Jessica Thompson as That Girl

XXX. Fever and Apologies

My gaze drops onto my toes. It's untrimmed and unpainted. Maybe Krista and I can paint our nails tomorrow.

"That's good," Krista said. "I'm glad things are working out." She laughs, "I was getting worried about you since you're always breaking girls' hearts left and right. Be careful or else one day, it may bite you in the ass."

I took a step back and walked towards the restroom. I'll pretend I've been sitting in here and I didn't hear anything.

Krista's head pops in, "Why are you sitting in the bathroom in the dark? I was about to grab the broom over there and smack you with it."

I stood up and hugged her.

She laughs, "What are you doing?" Krista pat my back.

I held her firmly, and when I opened my eyes, Brody came into view. He stood there at the end of the hallway. Our eyes hardly wave from each other. "Thank you."

Krista giggles, "What are you saying? Something wrong?"

Unlike earlier, some crushed my chest - leaving me incapable of thinking anything. There weren't any tears, and the screams didn't depart from anyone's mouths.

My body feels hot, and the temperature erupted. I should've worn my slippers or grabbed a sweater before I went downstairs.

Brody clenches his fists, but his gaze didn't waver.

I'm so selfish.

And amid the silence, only two broken words linger inside the house. "I'm sorry."

Krista pushes me back, forcing my attention to rest on her. "Are you okay? Are you sleepwalking or something?"

My sight flickers towards the space where Brody used to stand.

He left.

Krista felt my forehead. "Oh gosh, you're burning up." She took off her sweater and wrapped it around my body. "Let's go upstairs." She grabbed my hand and led me back into my bedroom. Krista laid me down and tucked the blanket around my body. "Wait here. I'll grab you some medications."

Waves of heat coursed through my veins.

"101.5," mom said. She exhales lightly, "I told you to dress warmer to the festival."

I wore three layers of clothes, and somehow, I still got sick.

A cold sweat glistened into a pale feature, and I coughed violently.

Mom smoothes her soft hand across my face. "I'll go get you some soup."

I shook my head.

"You're going to eat. You haven't eaten anything this morning." She left the room without allowing me to input another word.

Krista settled beside the bed and pouted. I smile, "Go and have fun." We made plans to hang out with a few other people at the festival. We're not particularly close to them, but it's not bad to hang out with other people once in a while.

Krista shook her head and pouted harder. "How can I go out and play when you're here near death." Why does everyone look and sound like I'm about to roll into my gravestone?