“So I’ve been in touch with your teachers. They said they want to work with you on a schedule that supports your health needs,” my mom tells me during her next visit. Her last visit.

I think that my health needs include not having schoolwork mentioned while I’m still in the hospital, but I keep my mouth shut.

“And maybe we should think about hiring a babysitter for Randy while you get back on your feet.”

Randy. I miss my cousin. I miss taking care of him.

“Can I think about it, Mom? I feel like taking care of him again would probably be the thing that makes me feel the most normal.”

“Sure, of course, honey.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I say. “For everything.”

My mom hugs me. I still haven’t gotten used to hugging someone in a hazmat suit. I kind of feel like I’m hugging a giant pillow.

She pulls back, looks at me, hugs me again. “I’m going to miss you so much,” she says.

“Me too.” I’m trying and failing not to cry.

She tries to brush my tears away, but her giant gloves feel clumsy against my face.

“I’m so sorry,” I say.

“Honey, I told you, don’t apologize for getting sick. It’s not your fault. I’m the one who still feels guilty.”

“Please, please don’t feel guilty anymore, Mom,” I beg. “Please.” The guilt I feel for everything I’ve put her through bubbles up my body and hurts more than any of the aches I had while I was sick.

My mom gives me a worried look. “Are you sure it’s okay that I’m going back?”

“Yes,” I say, fighting the tears. I feel my bottom lip quivering and I bite it so hard I’m afraid I’ll taste blood.

I hear Kelsey leave, which means my mom will be leaving soon, leaving me in quarantine. And I’m going to see my dad’s new wife, who I supposedly shouldn’t hate. Because she invited me to visit them, not my own father. Who basically ignored me the entire time I visited him. And somehow when they leave I’ll just go back to Brooklyn and back to school like none of this ever happened, like I’m the same Flora I always have been and always will be. Except now I’m diseased and poisonous and no one will want to touch me with a ten-foot pole.

And Oliver will be here through it all, with his girlfriend by his side. His girlfriend, whose intentions I’m still having my doubts about.

I bite my lip again, think I actually taste blood.

My mom is wrapping her pillow arms around me again, and I don’t know why we’re both trying not to cry. We’re doing a terrible job at the “trying” part.

“I love you so much. I’ll talk to you every day. Every day! You’ll be sick of me by the time you get home.”

“Never,” I say, and I mean it.

“Remember everything we talked about with your dad and Goldy, okay?”

I nod, wiping my tears.

She gives me one last huge hug, and then she leaves. She removes her hazmat suit and throws it in the bin. Then she comes around to my window and puts her hand on the glass.

I put my hand on the glass too, but already she is so far away from me.