Baby's Breath

Chapter 9: sick

Boy did I sleep like a boulder, I even felt like one. Any longer in bed and I would've made a super indention. It was the phone that woke me up.

"Jess, I take it you (you're) not going to school?" There was no franticness coloring Mom's voice, but concern.

"What?" I blinked at my clock, it said 7:30. "Crap!" The floor squeaked under my sudden weight and I trembled for my clothes. "I don't know if I can make it in five minutes. I'll see if Jules will take me. Sorry." I hung up and ran from my room without getting dressed. "Jules!" I shouted from the top of the stairs, ignoring my pounding headache.

"He just left, sweetie." Mom was in the kitchen cleaning up by the sounds of the water and dishes.

"Mom, the bus will be here in five minutes and I'm going to miss it!" Panic, though preposterous, made me emotional. I couldn't understand it myself why I would worry over missing it. Mom would either take me, or let me have the day off. She was cool like that. "I'm going to be tardy."

"Judging by the sound of your voice, you should just go back to bed."

Go back to bed? I blinked. I'd never thought of that. My panic abandoned me so quickly to relief that I was left feeling faint. "Really?"

"It's okay, Jess, I already called you in when I saw that you'd missed pancakes."

"Pancakes?" I echoed and saw the stack under the cake cover. My stomach protested, angry that I'd neglected it. "Is it too late for breakfast?"

Her eyes sparkled and she gave me a warm smile. "Never."

After eating eight pancakes, two cups of milk and a glass of orange juice to chase them down, I was back in bed. In the eerie darkness of my trapped with people-chasing-me-to-kill-me dream, I finally found a door to escape through. As I wrapped my hand around the cold handle, my killer stepped through another door and cocked his dreaded gun. A harsh knock sounded on his door and we both turned to it, confused. No one ever knocked in these dreams. Again, the door sounded. It felt as if I was suddenly sucked from a straw and spit out onto my bed. Drool leaked down my cheek and my room was dark.

The knock came again, but with an irritated voice this time. "I know you're in there. C'mon, open up."

Locked in dreamland and murderers, I didn't recognize the voice. "Who is it?" My head darkened with haziness from being awakened from a deep sleep.

"Seriously?"

"Audra?" I blinked, recognizing the surroundings of my bedroom. "Come in."

"Sheesh!" She barged through the door, a tray in hand and slapped the light switch on. If I was a vampire, I would've covered my face with a cowering hiss. "Here, I brought up dinner. Are you feeling any better?" She plopped on my bed. "You look terrible."

"I'm glad you came when you did. He finally found me, just when I was about to try a door. Probably locked, knowing my luck." I picked at the spinach and nuts.

"What're you talking about?" It didn't take her long to start pigging down her food.

I watched her with fascination for a few seconds. "My dreams. They've been pretty scary lately as well as intense. I'm always stuck in a place where either it's impossible to find my way out, or I'm trapped inside with a bunch of murderers after me. What do you think it means?"

She let go a whistle, but kept her eyes fast on her food. "Talk about stress. Whatcha stressing over?" She chewed off a chunk of shiny chicken that made my stomach turn. Was that grease?

Was I stressing out? I had no idea I had been. I chuckled at its simplicity; I would've never guessed. "I dunno, maybe . . . drowning?" Sarcasm laced my last word and I glared at her, but I had forgotten all about it and was not going to tell her. "But, of course, that's no big deal, is it?" To show my point, I went against my finicky appetite and tore through my chicken. It felt slimy and flavorless. I spat it out. "My food suddenly tastes disgusting."