"They don't appreciate the attention Jason pays you." She giggled. "They'd prefer you weren't his favorite."
Ugh. Jason was a tangle I'd yet to sort out. He was intrigued by me, but I was into Chance. Awkward. Double awkward. I doubted Hannah would be so nice if she knew I was infatuated with her boyfriend.
Hannah sensed my discomfort, though not its source. Thankfully.
"Ignore them," she said. "Those three are narrow and petty and rarely meet anyone outside their own privileged circle. They're dreadfully immature."
"But not you. You've been great. And believe me, I appreciate it." I hesitated. What the hell? "This year has been tough."
"I hope I'm not like them!" Hannah laughed, flashing perfect teeth. "But it's easier for me. I have Chance."
"He seems very nice." Neutral as Switzerland.
"We're in love. Someday we'll marry." Again, the flawless pearly whites. "Chance and I are meant to be."
"I'm happy for you both." Most of me meant it. Ninety percent. Seventy-five.
The bell rang.
I made a few more dabs at my hands and face.
"How do I look?"
"Beautiful." Hannah took my arm. "Let's leave together. The terrible trio won't start in again."
We walked out side by side.
And smack into Jason and Chance.
"Tory, you all right?" Jason pushed off from the wall.
The day had already been too much. I couldn't control my body, had no idea when it might betray me next. The last thing I needed right then was Jason Taylor.
Disengaging from Hannah with an arm-squeeze of thanks, I lowered my head and set off down the hall.
"I'm good! Thanks!"
I didn't look up until I hit the nurse's office.
CHAPTER 41
Nurse Riley viewed my tongue. Checked my pupils. Stuck a thermometer into my mouth.
Though she poked and prodded her best, none of my symptoms reappeared. My vitals came up perfectly normal. Baffled, she gave me two Tylenol and released me back to class.
Her failure wasn't surprising, since I didn't tell her the truth. I couldn't share what had really happened. How I'd lost control.
Second period was in full swing. AP British Literature. Handing over my pass, I took my seat between Hi and Shelton. Both looked relieved to see me.
Mr. Edde, a tall and gangly Hispanic man with an eight-inch Afro, was discussing the merits of iambic pentameter. I tried to concentrate on the lesson.
"Tory." Whispered. "Tor!"
I slid my eyes right. Hi's new phone lay nestled between the pages of his book. Without looking down, he typed a message.
Oh so casual, I slipped my cell from my purse. Powered it on.
Hi's text held a link.
Click. A chat room flashed onto my screen.
I glanced up. Mr. Edde was death on cell phones. He'd already confiscated a dozen that semester.
The gods were smiling. After instructing the class to read a chapter on seventeenth century poetry, Mr. Edde rounded his desk. A moment of scrutiny, then he sat, tipped his chair back, and focused on a crossword puzzle.
The room quieted. Feigning absorption in John Milton, I turned my attention to cyberspace.
Two avatars lurked. The image of Napoleon Dynamite was Hi. Shelton was represented by the Abominable Snowman eating a giant robot. Don't ask.
My own avatar--a gray wolf done in black and white--was the only other character present.
Hi had already posted.
Napoleon: Where did you go? You freaked me out!!!
Moving ever so discreetly, I replied.
Wolf: Nurse. Kept quiet, but something's wrong with me. Bad!
Napoleon: Me too! Not just flu. Weird things.
Snowman: I'm worse. Going crazy!
I glanced to the left. Shelton's foot was tapping like he was playing Rock Band on expert.
To the right. Hi's jacket was off, his top button undone. He was wheezing like an ancient and scratching his arms.
Hope packed up and headed out the door. My illness wasn't isolated. We'd caught something together. Something nasty.
I typed fast, watching Mr. Edde with one eye.
Wolf: Need to meet. Today. Bunker. Not a word until then.
Fingers danced on both sides of me. Willing Mr. Edde to stay engrossed in his puzzle, I dropped my eyes.
Snowman: Too sick. Getting scared. May tell Mom.
Napoleon: No bathroom in the bunker. Problem.
I felt a prickle of irritation. Didn't they realize the source of the illness? We couldn't tell our parents. Not with Karsten watching.
My fingers flew across the screen.
Wolf: Must talk first, sick or not! In private. Bunker. After school. Super important.
Wolf: Say NOTHING! Not even to each other!
Mr. Edde lowered the front legs of his chair, a sure sign he was retiring the crossword. Conversation over.
I dropped my cell into my purse. Hi slipped his into his front pocket. I raised an eyebrow. Well?
Hi ran both hands through his hair, pretended to pull it out. Then nodded.
Shelton squirmed, frowned, dipped his chin curtly.
All aboard.
Now to get through the day. One class at a time.
A light breeze meandered the marina, carrying with it the scent of salt water, hydrangeas, and diesel fuel. On the harbor, sails flashed white in the afternoon sun.