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“Hey, why aren’t you at school?” he asked. “Was it because of yesterday?”
I groaned again. “Nope.” My sore throat made even my short answers painful. “I didn’t have any visions today.”
The concern in his voice became more obvious as he sighed and asked, “You okay?”
I had to think about how I felt for a second. “I’m kinda okay, just a bit sick. I’m hanging up now. Bye.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Can I see you?”
I paused, sighed, and said, “Nope.” I ended the call and left him hanging on the other side of the line. It didn’t take long for me to fall back asleep.
The next time I stirred in bed and snapped my eyes open, Mom—in her maroon work suit—sat beside my bed and held my hand.
“Gray?” I asked in a hoarse voice, recalling him being the last person I talked to before passing out. “Is he okay?”
Mom frowned, ignoring my question. “I’m going to work. Will you be fine by yourself?”
“I’m okay. I think I have enough energy to take out the trash.” I forced a smile. “Eomma, I’ll be fine,” I said more convincingly. “Don’t worry.”
“Forget about the trash. I’m your mother, and I can’t help but worry about you.” She looked away as the corners of her mouth dipped into a bigger frown. “Did I ever tell you the story of when you had just turned a year old … I made you choose between a microphone and a stethoscope. You chose a stethoscope,” she said. “Years later, you told me you wanted to be a doctor.”
“Eomma, I’m not dying. It’s just a cold. I’m still going to be a doctor. Now go to work and stop worrying,” I whined. “It’s so cringey.”
“Fine, fine, I’ll go,” she resigned. “You never listen to me anyway, you brat. Don’t make me regret it, you understand?”
I nodded as she made her way to the door and left.
After half an hour of feeling like I was dying and breathing in water, I managed to get out of bed, swaddled myself with an extra jacket and a pink bathrobe. Once my body felt warm enough, I headed to the front yard and tossed the kitchen trash into the dumpster despite my mom telling me to forget about it. I wasn’t a very good listener.
Across the street, something white and red grabbed my attention—the red-eyed white wolf, the one who gave me an umbrella as if he knew what I was going through.
And maybe he did. Just like now. He was hiding behind a tree, almost as if he knew he wasn’t supposed to be there.
I took a quick step forward, wanting to pet him, but stopped when he retreated.
The wolf immediately jumped off a fence and disappeared before I could gather the energy to chase after him.
“He seems really worried about you but won’t admit how he truly feels, don’t you think?” a familiar voice chimed out of nowhere.
I turned around and met a glowing Cole in his solid-colored V-neck shirt, skipping classes again.
What he said didn’t make sense, but I didn’t dwell on it like I normally would. The fact that Cole was standing right in front of me was already enough to ruin my mood. I walked away and tried to ignore him.
“I noticed you and Gray are getting closer,” he started, and I immediately swung around to glare at him. “Are you guys dating?”
“No, no, and no,” I answered at warp speed. Yesterday’s kiss crossed my mind. In some television shows, when two people kiss each other, it automatically means they’re dating. Me and Gray? Our relationship was indescribable.
Cole furrowed his eyebrows, asking for further elucidation.
“We arenotdating,” I clarified. “It’s not possible.”
“Is it because you’ve been friends for too long, you can’t see each other as anything more than that?”
“It’s too late.”
