“I certainly hope so.”
“And I won’t do anything like that ever again, I swear.”
“Good. Don’t. One more thing. I’m very upset with how you treated Nicole.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You told her she wasn’t in our family. But she is, and I need you to apologize to her immediately.”
I couldn’t believe this. Mom and Nicole were supposed to hate each other. Or, if not hate, then at least resent. I mean, D’Aulaires’ was full of stories about how Hera treated Zeus’s girlfriends. Like how when Hera found out Leto was pregnant, she ordered every country on earth to banish her. And how she tricked Semele into asking Zeus to reveal himself, causing Semele to burn to cinders. And how she punished Echo by taking away her ability to speak her own words.
Hera was badass. Scary. But she was Zeus’s wife, so you could understand her jealousy. Empathize with it, almost.
Versus Mom sticking up for Dad’s girlfriend, which made zero sense.
But I promised to apologize to Nicole anyway. The truth was, my stomach was still feeling sort of squirmy—and at least part of that had to be from guilt. Nicole was a good person, and she didn’t deserve how I’d treated her.
As soon as I logged off Skype, I went into the living room, where Nicole was watching the movie Alien. I sat on the sofa about a foot away from her, but she held out one arm for me to snuggle next to her. So I did, even though every time that movie was on, I switched the channel.
“Nice ears,” she said, not taking her eyes off the TV. “It’ll be fun to get new earrings once your holes are all healed. Are you hungry?”
“Not really. My stomach is feeling weird from all the junk I ate at the mall.”
“Well, junk food with friends is important. Once in a while, anyway . . . as long as it’s not behind your parents’ backs.”
“I know. I should have told them about the mall. And the earrings. And sorry I said that stuff to you before—”
“Shh, girl,” Nicole said. “This scene is gross, and I want to watch.”
* * *
The next morning I woke up feeling I’d been trampled on by a giant centaur. When Nicole called me downstairs to breakfast, I could barely move. Everything ached—even my fingers. Also, everything felt fuzzy, a million miles away. And when Nicole presented me with what she’d cooked—puffy French toast with cinnamon butter and sliced apples—I just stared at my plate, trying to remember what was so great about food.
“You don’t like it? I could make you something else,” she said, already opening the fridge door.
“No, it looks delicious. I’m just not super-hungry this morning. I think that shake I had at the mall upset my stomach or something.”
Nicole frowned at me. “Still? You said your stomach felt weird last night. Maybe you should stay home from school.”
“No!” I nearly shouted that at her, so I cleared my throat, as if: throat malfunction. “No, I can’t. We have a math test today, and I need to tell my English teacher which god I’m choosing for this project—”
“Listen, Norah, everything is secondary to your health.”
“My health is great.” I took a giant forkful of French toast to prove it. “Hey, this is yum. Thanks for making it, Nicole.”
She narrowed her eyes as if she could tell I was full of it. So I had to keep eating, even though my stomach protested Nooo, stooop.
* * *
I wasn’t lying, at least not about the math test. As soon as I saw Griffin right before first period, I could tell he was nervous about it, so I tried to cheer him up.
“I’ve been sketching krakens,” I told him. “They look really cool. Want to see?”
His eyes lit up. “Yeah, I do. But first I should look over my notes, okay?”
“Oh, of course.”
“Can you show me at lunch?”
“Today?”
He nodded. Because of course he meant today.
“Sure,” I said, thinking: Eep. Now I’ll have to skip health class. After just promising Mom that she could trust me.
Here we go again.
EVIL BUG
Except that day I never made it to lunch. Or health.
I barely made it through math. Barely finished the test.
As soon as I got to English, I told Ms. Farrell I needed to go to the nurse’s office. “Oh, of course,” she said with worried eyes. She told Harper to walk with me, “just for company.” And I felt so awful I didn’t even protest.
Mrs. Donaldson looked me over, felt my forehead, and led me to Norah’s Cot. “Lie down,” she said softly. “I’m calling your mom.”
“You can’t. She’s in California.”
“Okay, your Dad, then.”
“He’s out of town. At a baseball game.”
She stared at me like Are your parents INSANE? So I explained about Dad’s work, and how Nicole was staying with me overnight. Mrs. Donaldson asked for Nicole’s phone number, and for a minute I was a total blank. Then I remembered it was programmed into my phone, which I just handed to her.
She called Nicole. I was feeling so woozy I can’t remember what happened, how long I was asleep, or how much time things took. But the next thing I remember, Nicole was sitting on the edge of the cot in her black going-to-work pantsuit, looking at me with a weird expression.
“So I guess you really hated that French toast, huh?” she said when she saw I was awake.
“No, no, it wasn’t that—”
“Come on, silly, I was joking. Let’s get you home now, okay?”
Harper brought my stuff from my locker, and somehow I made it to Nicole’s car.
* * *
The next few days were a blur.
I was sick. Not cancer-sick, germ-sick. The evil bug that had attacked me was from school, or the mall, or Aria’s car, or the hospital. Or possibly it was from my house, even my own bedroom. There was no way to know. And no way to stop more germ attacks from beating me, as long as my immune system was still “compromised.”
This is what Dr.
