Eye of the Storm (Hudson 3)

anything. I see the pleasure in his eves, the pride he

has, the pride of an artist who created something so

beautiful all the world would congratulate him." She paused and then looked at me angrily. "Why don't you stay sick a while longer? You

won't have to go to school and worry about tests and

homework. You'll continue to be waited on hand and

foot, just as you like it. Huh?"

I shook my head.

"I know what. I'll help you stay sick," she said. "Water," I pleaded in a whisper. I'm so thirsty.

Please get me some water."

Her eyes brightened.

"Water? You want a drink of water? That's

good. I'll get you a drink of water."

She rose and went into the bathroom. I waited

to hear the faucet running. Just the sound of water

would give me pleasure, I thought, but I didn't hear

that. Instead, I heard the toilet seat go up and then I

heard her dip a glass in it and return.

"Here you go," she said. "Just drink this." I

shook my head.

"Please," I muttered through my dried lips. It

was painful just to separate them.

"You said you were thirsty, didn't you?" she

nearly barked, her voice so gruff. "Drink some of this

water." She smiled, "Maybe it will keep you sick a

little longer," she said. "Drink it," she commanded. I shook my head and then she leaned over and

brought the glass to my mouth. I kept it closed as she

poured the toilet bowl water over it, letting it run

down the side of my chin and onto the bed and my

neck. She squeezed my jaw, my mouth opened a little

and some of the water got in. I coughed and spit. She