Page 38 of On the Bright Side
I lean to the right and vomit again. Smaller chunks this time, added to the mess.
The door creaks open, but I don’t dare open my eyes. I’m glad my parents have found me. Dad says something, but I’m not processing anything. I think my mom left the room.
It’s liquid this time, warm and stinging my throat on the way up.
Mom is back with a warm towel. A water bottle. And a bucket. She puts it in my lap for me.
More liquid. My eyes squeezed so tightly shut that all I see are red swirls. They spin. My brain spins. Everything is spinning.
Finally, it seems like my body has nothing left to give. I peek to find Dad offering me the water. My vision is still moving.
Despite sitting absolutely still, the world is still moving around me. I’m not in control of my eyes.
What is happening to me?
My hands shake and struggle to hold up the metal bottle. I drink in slow, small sips with my eyes closed, still swaying. I’m about to drop the water when my dad grabs it.
“Honey, what’s going on?” my mom pleads, and I finally register what she is saying. “Are you sick?”
No shit.
My head lurches forward. Welp, there goes the water. Sloshing around in the bucket. I couldn’t even keep it down.
“Let’s go to the doctor,” my dad says without hesitation. That’s how I know something isreally wrong. He loops his arms around me, helping me stand. I force a swallow to try to prevent more vomit.
Since I’m only in shorts, Mom runs to my closet and grabs a shirt.She lifts my arms, sliding the soft tee over my head. She attempts to be gentle, but with my eyes closed, I feel so pushed around.
We get to the bottom of the stairs somehow. Then out to the car. Which might as well be a roller coaster. I clutch my seat belt to my chest. My head ducked down, too heavy to hold up. Every single turn. Start. And stop. Makes me sick.Sick, right into the plastic bag one of my parents must’ve given me.
We get to Urgent Care. Mom checks me in. Dad grabs a wheelchair. Too many bumps. The ramp winds so much.
We must be inside now. “We have to wait awhile,” my mom says, patting my arm.
“Don’t.” No one touch me. I can’t handle any movement.
I’ve never been so out of control of my own body.
When will this stop?
I just need it to end.
Chapter Seventeen
Ellie
I’ve been messingwith my hair all morning, not sure exactly how I want to wear it. I’m in a flowy summer dress paired with a cardigan, but I’m questioning this outfit, too, and there’s no time to change it. Jackson will be here any minute now. We decided on nine yesterday. And he seems the type to be punctual.
I pull open my bedroom window curtain and peek outside, but no EasyRide has pulled up to the house yet. Maybe there was a delay? And how much is he spending on all this travel? I should’ve just offered to pick him up, even if he lives out of the way.
Sitting on the couch, I distract myself with my phone, not wanting to seem too eager should Jackson catch me looking out the window. I need to play it cool. It’s only 9:05; I’m sure he’ll be here any minute now.
I bite my lip and send Jackson a quick text asking for an ETA at 9:15.
By 9:37, there’s still no response.
Maybe Jackson didn’t even want to go to the museum. I was the one who brought it up. He must’ve thought hehadto offer just to be nice. It makes sense if he’d rather sleep in or do something more interesting with his morning. Still, it’s so rude to make a plan and not follow through. And not a single text to cancel?
But he’d seemed excited, right?In a dorky, cute kind of way. The boy who blushed head to toe when I read his lips isn’t the type to ghost me, right?
