My Brother's Best Friend

Chap. 5

Thirty minutes before we had to leave for school and I was the only one ready.

That was unusual.

I put a bagel down, reaching into the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water.

I seriously needed to buy my own carton of orange juice and milk.

Parker was next to join me in the kitchen, pulling the orange juice out of the refrigerator and slugging some down.

"Enjoying the show?" he asked, once he was finished.

"Just observing how cavemen live," I answered, rescuing my bagel from the toaster.

He rolled his eyes, putting a bagel down for himself. "Has Emmett come in yet?"

"Come in from where?"

Parker sighed. "His morning run Emily, has Emmett come back yet?"

"He should've."

"It's like talking to a brick wall," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "Yes Emily, I know that he should've. What I'm asking you is if he has."

"I don't know Parker; I'm not Emmett's keeper."

He jogged back towards Emmett's room, calling out for him.

I slathered my bagel with peanut butter, taking a seat at the counter and glancing up at the clock.

There's no way Emmett could still be on his morning run.

"He's not in the apartment," Parker said, coming back into the kitchen.

My heart began to pound a little harder.

And then I heard the lock on the door.

The door opened and Emmett came stumbling in, coughing and wheezing.

I dropped my bagel to the ground, jumping to my feet.

But Parker was already three steps ahead of me, tossing Emmett's inhaler towards him.

Emmett caught it and stood up as straight as he could under the circumstances, taking a puff from his inhaler. He waited 60 seconds, and then took another one.

"Why didn't you have your inhaler on you?" Parker demanded.

Emmett, clearly in distress, waved him off.

"You're a fucking idiot, that's why," Parker informed him.

I bent down and picked up my bagel off the floor, tossing it in the trash before grabbing a yogurt out of the refrigerator.

Over the next few minutes Emmett's breathing became less labored, and then he slipped over to the couch, lying down and letting out a groan.

I went over and sat down on the ground next to him, rubbing his back.

"You should've had your inhaler," I informed him.

He didn't answer.

"When's the last time you saw Dr. Hartman?"

Still no answer.

"He saw Dr. Hartman right before school started," Parker informed me from the kitchen.

"What did he say?"

"He sent him to Jacksonville for testing."

"Wow," I said, looking back at Emmett. "So I guess our weekly phone calls weren't so informative after all."

He still didn't answer.

"What did the tests say?"

Emmett turned his face to look at me. "They confirmed that I have asthma."