That Night

Chapter Thirteen

My alarm went off way too early on Monday morning, beeping incessantly in my ear as I struggled to roll over. My shoulder was crying out in pain, so all I could do was lie back and cringe as the beep, beep, beeping assaulted my ears.

"Dash?"

My mom knocked softly at the door before cracking it open and peering inside. When she saw I was still in bed, she entered the room.

"Aren't you cold, sweetie?" she asked, noting that I had thrown off my shirt at some point in the middle of the night, which was a difficult feat considering how badly my shoulder hurt. I'd also wiggled out of my pajama pants, leaving me in only my boxers, but she couldn't see that as I was still under my comforter.

"Hot," I mumbled, too exhausted to form a full sentence.

She sighed, pressing the back of her hand to my forehead. She quickly pulled away when she realized I had been sweating all night.

"Are you feeling sick?" she asked next, probably thinking I had a fever.

"No, just got hot," I said again, growing irritated with all her questions that early in the morning.

My body was all out of balance. I had practically slept all weekend on account of the sleeping pills the doctor prescribed me when I finally admitted to not being able to fall asleep the past week. Whether it was the pills or the excessive amount of sleep, something was making me burn up last night.

"I'll bring you a glass of water," she said, turning towards the door.

"It's fine," I replied. "I have to get up anyway."

"Dash, you're staying home today," she told me, walking back to gently push me down into bed.

"I really shouldn't –"

"I already called and told the office you won't be there," Mom interrupted. "The doctor said it would take a few days for your shoulder to stop hurting, and I can tell it's still bothering you. I really think you should take another day to rest and keep it relaxed."

I sighed and gave in, not sure why I was arguing about staying in bed longer. Despite sleeping all weekend, my body was still sore and fatigued.

"Now I'll go get you that water," she said with a triumphant clap of her hands. "You stay in bed. I'll be right back."

She then left the room and closed the door behind her.

I rubbed my eyes, willing them to stay open while I waited for the much-needed glass of water.

Part of me had wanted to go to school that day to confront Harrison about what he did, finally tell him everything that had been bottle up inside me the last several months. But the other part of me was glad to avoid school that day. Harrison wasn't the only one out to get me anymore – all of my teachers were ready to start a petition for my expulsion, as I hadn't turned in a single assignment in over a week. Though I knew I would have to catch up eventually, I hoped that my injury would give me a few extra sympathy days to get everything done.

My mom returned shortly with a glass of water and a muffin. I immediately chugged the water until the cup was empty, suddenly feeling extremely dehydrated.

"Dash –"

"Did you make this?" I asked, taking the warm muffin from her and holding it up to my nose to enjoy the sweet scent of cinnamon. I couldn't remember the last time my mother had baked, if she ever had at all.

"Yes, I did," she said with a laugh as I finished it off in two bites. "I'm glad to see you have your appetite back, but please don't choke."

I wiped my hands together, carelessly letting the crumbs fall into my lap. I then settled against my pillow, ready to fall back to sleep.