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Springtime. I’ve always loved the spring. And today’s going to be perfect. It’s the senior trip today. Time to get myself up and out of bed.
Ow.
I sit up in bed then look at the clock. One? That doesn’t make sense. It can’t be night. The sun’s out. But I’d never sleep in. Not today.
And why does my head hurt so much?
“Mom?” I glance around my room. Something’s missing. I guess the clock could be wrong. Where’s my phone? That always has the right time, except I can’t find it.
“Mom?”
I’m dizzy when I try to get out of bed. I don’t understand any of this. What about my senior trip? Mom wouldn’t have let me miss it. And what about Chris? He was going to come over hours earlier. We should be at the cabin by now. Everyone else is already there waiting for us.
I open the door to the hallway, blinking. My eyes aren’t used to this light. I look down and wonder how I ended up asleep in my clothes.
Oh, no. I’m sick. I’m going to throw up. Got to hurry.
That’s so disgusting, but at least I made it to the bathroom on time.
“Mia?”
I scream when the shower curtain pulls open. I ran in here so fast I didn’t realize I wasn’t alone.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “It’s me.” My brother Marco. What is he doing home? He peeks his head out from behind the shower curtain. “Hand me the towel.”
I’m too confused to ask any questions, and I simply do what he says.
The next thing I know, Dad is at the door, his phone in one hand. “Everything okay? What’s going on?”
“I startled her,” Marco says, stepping out of the shower. Even with his towel wrapped around him, I’m a little weirded out to see my brother like this. I keep my eyes on the toilet bowl where I just emptied my stomach.
I still have no idea why either my brother or my dad are home. Marco never stops by anymore, and Dad should be at work. None of this makes sense, and I’m late for my senior trip. “Where’s Mom?”
I study the worried expressions that pass from my father to my brother then repeat, “Where’s Mom?”
Dad’s about to say something but Marco steps forward. “Hey remember, you got kind of sick right before your camping trip. You told Mom she should go so everyone else could have a good time, but you weren’t feeling up to making it.” He gives a sympathetic frown. “Sorry, Mimi.”
It’s a nickname he hasn’t called me in years, but it doesn’t feel as awkward as I would have thought it might to hear it from him again.
“What are you doing home?” I ask.
He smiles then tousles his wet hair. “Mom felt bad about leaving you for the weekend, and Dad’s got work to do, so I said I’d come by and keep you company.”
“Oh.” I guess it makes sense. Funny that I don’t remember any of it though.
“How you feeling?” my brother asks.
“My head hurts.” I look over to where Dad was standing, except he’s gone. Strange. Wasn’t he right there just a second ago?
“Yeah, the doctor said it might.”
“I went to the doctor?” Suddenly I feel dizzy. Marco reaches out for my arm, steadying me when I nearly lose my balance.
He gives a little chuckle. “You really are out of it, aren’t you?” He gives me a smile, then says, “Hey, let me get dressed and then we’ll watch a movie. Once you’re feeling better, I’ll drive you out to the cabin and you can join your class for the rest of the trip.”
Something doesn’t feel right, but I can’t quite place it. Maybe it’s the fact that my brother’s being so nice to me when we haven’t seen much of each other in years.
“So Mom left without me?” It doesn’t sound like something she’d do.
“She didn’t want to,” Marco says, “but you were so worried about everyone else being disappointed that you begged her to go.”
“I did?”
Marco laughs again. “That’s my little sis. Always so selfless. And humble enough you don’t even remember when you’ve done it.”
Pain pulses from between my temples. “What am I sick with anyway?”
Marco shrugs. “Some kind of 24-hour bug. Headaches, vomiting, disorientation. You seriously don’t remember Mom taking you to the doctor?”
I shake my head, and he laughs at me again.
“Meet me downstairs,” he says, “and I’ll find us a good movie. Just let me get dressed first.”
A few minutes later, Marco comes downstairs, drying his hair with a towel. He tosses it onto Dad’s recliner then plops down next to me on the couch. “And how’s my favorite little sister?”
“My head hurts,” I tell him, and I’m not sure if that’s because of this 24-hour bug I have or if it’s because I feel so disoriented. I remember getting really sick when I was in second or third grade. Turned into scarlet fever. I was at a gymnastics competition, told Mom I didn’t feel well, and the next thing I remember I was home taking lukewarm baths and having Mom stick a thermometer under my tongue every half an hour.
“Want some pain meds?” Marco asks. “Doctor says the over-the-counter stuff is fine.”
“Yes, please.”
He gets up, and I’m surprised at how attentive he’s being. It’s not as if my brother and I don’t get along. We just don’t interact much at all. He comes home on holidays, and that’s about it. I honestly can’t remember the last time he sat down to watch a movie with me.
He hands me two pills and a cup of water. It’s tepid, and I wince drinking it down. “Throat hurts,” I croak, handing him my cup.
He nods. “Doctor said it might.” He sets the glass on the coffee table. He’s lucky Mom’s at the cabin or she’d rip into him for forgetting to use a coaster. He kicks his shoes up beside the glass, points the remote at the TV, and asks, “Well, Mimi, what are you in the mood to watch?”