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Jack came to a hockey stop next to me. “Hey, Josie, y’alright?”
I winced. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound too convincing. Not feeling well?” He backed away from me and held his hands up in innocence. “Sorry, I can’t get sick right now. I have a hot date later tonight.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “You think you can manage the rest of the shift alone? I’m really not doin’ so great.”
“Yeah, get out of here. Hope ya feel better soon, J,” he said, patting me on the back.
I muttered out a thanks, but even forming words made my head hurt. I walked back to our locker room in a complete fog and stipped off my skates as quickly as I could.
On my way back to my apartment, I tried to keep my head super level, because it felt like the whole sidewalk was swaying.
My phone started ringing, and I quickly fished it from my pocket. I pulled my jacket tighter because it suddenly felt twenty degrees colder.
“Hey honey,” my dad said, “what do you think about ribs from B’dubs tonight?”
“Uh…” I held my head and stopped walking. “I don’t think I should come.”
“Josie?” his rough voice was alarmed now.
“I’m fine,” I reassured him, but my own voice sounded like it was coming from underwater. “I just think I’m getting sick. The damn second grade flu. It should be over after 48 hours if that’s what this is, but I really hope I didn’t pass it to you and mom already.” I felt like crying, which was alarming in and of itself because I never cried.
“Don’t worry about us, sweetheart,” he replied. “Can you make yourself some soup? Rest up. I’ll tell your mother. You need anything?”
“No, I’m good. I’m just gonna try to sleep it away.”
“Okay, I’ll check in later, good?”
I swallowed hard. “Okay.”
“I’ll be banging down your door if you don’t answer,” he warned in his hoarse voice.
“Oh I know,” I chuckled, then winced from the pain in my head.
________
Changing back into my pj’s, I experienced full body chills, which pretty much told me that I had a fever. I slipped on some fuzzy socks and wrapped myself in a heavy blanket before marching into my new tiny living room. I turned on an episode of Gilmore Girls and then laid on the couch to sleep.
I’m not sure how much time had passed when my phone woke me up, but it was definitely dark outside and I hadn’t kept any lights on. My TV screen only gave off a light glow because it now read the ‘Are You Still Watching?’ message. I frantically fumbled to find my phone and made the unfortunate mistake of getting up too quickly, completely forgetting I was in fuzzy socks on this new slippery hardwood floor.
I slipped off my feet and my head hit the corner of my coffee table on my way down. I let out a frustrated groan and laid there flat on my back, completely ignoring my phone now.
I reached up to gently touch where I smacked my head, and my fingers came away feeling slippery.Great.
All of two minutes later, there was a pounding on my door. How the hell did my dad get here so fast? Maybe he’d been on the way here?
“One minute, please!” I yelled, then winced. My head was pounding worse than it had this morning, and now I wasn’t sure if it was from smacking it or the flu.
I ripped off my fuzzy socks before gingerly padding over to my kitchen. I threw on the lights, blinking hard against the starch brightness, then grabbed a paper towel to hold against my bloody forehead.
My dad chose that second to start banging on the door again. The man really needed to learn some patience.
“Please stop,” I practically begged on my way, and he must’ve heard me because he did pause.
I took the paper towel away from my forehead for a second and was shocked by the amount of blood. Jeez. The sight of this would send my dad into a tizzy of child-proofing my apartment.
The pounding began again, so I reached for the knob and swung it open… then stood completely still, shocked.
