“Why not?”
Everly glanced over to Mrs. Henney, who was looking at us like we’d committed some sort of a crime or something. When Everly’s gaze swung back to me, I felt like I’d been hit with something. It made me stop for a bit and think. Was this just a physical reaction to a pretty girl? Or something more?
“I’ve already told you I have youth group.”
I had to blink, because suddenly Everly was out of focus. Her big blue eyes wavered a bit, and my stomach rolled. Okay. I could deal with this. Sometimes my vision goes a little wonky. It doesn’t happen that often, but the headache that had followed me around all day should have been warning enough.
I was an ace at acting as if everything was good. I took a moment. Shit. My stomach didn’t feel so hot. I took another moment.
“So I’ll come,” I finally managed to say.
“To church.”
I waited as the wave of nausea finally rolled away and then breathed out nice and slow, toying with my laptop case as a distraction.
“Yeah, to church. I’ll come.”
“You won’t like it.”
Okay, I was starting to get annoyed. That, coupled with the fact that all of a sudden, my head felt as if it was being ripped apart from the inside out, made my voice a little sharp, but shit, what was her problem anyway?
“How do you know what I like?”
Heat surged through me, and I had a weird moment when I felt as if I was standing outside my body. My mouth was dry, and I reached for the water bottle on the table beside my laptop.
Except my hand didn’t do what I wanted it to. I stared at the water bottle, trying to figure out why I couldn’t get to it. I’m not real sure how long I did that, but suddenly I felt Everly’s hand on my arm.
She was talking to me but it sounded like she was talking from far away, like when you’re in the city and just getting off the subway at night. If you shout, the walls make it seem as if your words can fly anywhere.
I tried to tell her that I felt like shit. I tried to grab the water bottle. I tried to tell her that I’d go to her stupid youth group meeting because for most of our study session, all I’d thought about was getting her alone. Which was kind of defeated by the whole youth group thing, but a guy would take what he could get.
But none of those words came out. My mouth was still dry, and my vision was really starting to freak me the hell out.
She leaned in real close, and I could smell that light summery scent that was all Everly. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t understand what she was saying, and I banged my knee against the table. Once. Twice. And as my anger increased, a third time.
God, I was hot.
I was hot and pissed and scared.
What the hell was happening to me? My skin felt too small for my body, and my brain felt like it was going to explode. Saliva was pooling in my mouth which (A) was gross, and (B) freaked me out more than the vision thing.
Mrs. Henney was in my face now, the bottle of water I wanted in her wrinkled hands. She offered it to me. I saw the bottle floating in the air like an astronaut, just drifting in front of my eyes. Why couldn’t I grab it?
Then I was fading. Going away somewhere dark, and the last thing I remember thinking was that Everly was going to see something I was pretty sure would be the most uncool thing ever. And that maybe I was dying.
And that totally sucked.
Chapter Six
Everly
It was Saturday morning, and I had the kitchen to myself. Mom was off to yoga class, her neon yellow pants still burned into my retinas. Seriously, no female over the age of ten should wear that color. I don’t care if your butt is tight, it’s just kind of wrong. But my mom was all about sunshine and happy, or at least the appearance of sunshine and happy, so yellow was her color of choice lately.
She’d done a drive-by, kissed the air near my cheek before grabbing her water bottle, and was gone. Dad was in his office, working on his sermon for tomorrow (thank God, because it was too early to play pretend), and Isaac was still in bed.
I’d been up for a while and had been sitting in the same spot at the table, staring into a cup of cold coffee, wondering what Trevor was doing. Was he still in bed? Was he okay? Was he still as freaked out by what had happened as I was?
My stomach rumbled just then, and I thought that maybe I should make myself something to eat. Something adventurous like a poached egg or French toast. On second thought, both of those choices seemed like too much work. Bagel and chocolate spread it was.