My mom is prattling on and on about all the research she’s done on tropical mono, and how nice everyone in our apartment building has been and how Mrs. Thompson even made her a green bean casserole, but I only hear every other sentence. I’m thinking about what I just said. I want to pull the curtain open and find out what Flora thinks about everything I said. If she’s even thinking about it, or if she’s back to thinking about Joey. Or maybe she’s thinking about who she’s going to invite to visit her. She told Joey there wasn’t anyone, and she hasn’t mentioned anyone to me. But everything I said about her is true, so surely there must be someone in Brooklyn who thinks the same thing and wants to see her.

My phone is on the tray next to my bed, and I see that I get a text message from Kelsey, but … I don’t bother picking up the phone.

But my mom sees my phone light up. “Kelsey? I didn’t know you were texting with her.”

“Mom!” I snap. I don’t feel like talking about Kelsey right now, when Flora is only a few inches away.

“She’s friends with Lucy, the girl you study with? She’s one of your Snapchat friends too, right?” My mom has my Snapchat friends list memorized.

“Yeah, something like that.” I try to change the subject quickly. “So, did Mrs. Thompson say how her dog is feeling? She took him to the vet last week, didn’t she?”

“Well, why is she texting you?”

“Mrs. Thompson?”

“No! Why is Kelsey texting you?”

“I don’t know. She’s probably just seeing if I’m feeling okay. Our hashtag is trending,” I say weakly.

“I don’t know what that sentence means.”

My phone lights up again, and my mom cranes her neck to read the message. “The letter c, the letter u, the number 2, and morrow. See you tomorrow? What’s going on?”

“It’s no big deal, Mom. What is a big deal is Bugle! Is he feeling better?” I say, desperate to change the subject.

“Oliver,” she says in a warning voice.

I sigh. “She’s coming to visit, yes.”

My mom gasps. “You didn’t ask me first? I’m your mother!”

“I asked the hospital,” I say in a small voice.

“Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to come.”

For once, I actually agree with my mom.

“Even if she’s in a hazmat suit, what if this thing is more contagious than originally thought? Could you live with yourself if someone else got sick? And I don’t like the idea of sharing my visiting time with someone else!” Then she whispers, “And what about Flora?” But my mom has never been a quiet whisperer, and our hospital room isn’t very big.

“She’s allowed to have visitors too,” I say, playing dumb.

“That’s not what I meant. Do you think it’s a good idea to have a girl visit you?”

I wish I knew what Flora was doing over there. For once I wish Joey would come back.