Page 103 of Rules

Giving up on the third degree, she joins us on the floor, and the three of us work on our Spanish. It’s one of the only classes, except for homeroom, that we have together. And since Señorita Rodrigues is a hard-ass, always giving us some project or pop quiz, we have to take this seriously.

I’m not sure how long we’re at it. We’re covering past tenses at the moment, which are confusing as hell. Jeanette and I are in the middle of a heated discussion on whether we should usepretérito imperfectorindefinidowhen the doorbell rings, waking up Lola from her slumber.

“That’s the delivery guy,” Lia says as she jumps to her feet to get the door. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“I seriously think thattuvieramakes more sense in this sentence,” I insist, but Jeanette is already shaking her head no.

“It’s a description in the past. Something that’s been going on for a while… It just seems logical to puttenía…”

“The food’s here,” Lia says loudly, interrupting our discussion. She puts the plastic bag on the coffee table between us, forcing us to finish for now. “If I hear one more conjugation, just one, my head will explode.”

“I guess a dinner break won’t kill us,” Jeanette agrees, closing her books and pushing them to the side so they’re not in the way as I do the same. Lia tears into the bag and takes out little white boxes.

“I wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for, but we had a craving for Chinese so…” Lia says, opening the boxes.

I grab one, along with a pair of chopsticks, but I don’t get a chance to even open them before Jeanette stumbles to her feet and runs from the room.

“What the…” I ask, looking at a wide-eyed Lia, but she’s left just as speechless as I am.

Jeanette’s loud footsteps echo down the hallway, and soon after, a door bursts open, and the loud bang gets me moving. I jump to my feet, not even giving a second glance to the food I leave behind as I hurry after her, Lia’s softer footsteps following behind.

It doesn’t take us long to find her, the sound of puking a clear giveaway. I feel my own stomach rumble uncomfortably, but I don’t let it stop me.

Getting to the little bathroom at the end of the hallway, we find the door open. Jeanette is slumped on the tiles, her body leaning over the toilet.

The intense smell of puke has the bile in my stomach rising, and I have to take a step back because it feels like I’ll be right there next to her if I don’t. Lia, on the other hand, rushes inside and falls down to her knees next to her. She reaches for Jeanette, one of her hands pulling her hair back as the other moves soothingly over Jeanette’s back as she heaves into the toilet.

“Jeanette, are you okay?” Lia asks.

But how could she be?

Jeanette’s hands are gripping the toilet seat, knuckles completely white. And I know that if she wasn’t holding on for dear life, her arms would be shivering just like her body is.

When she’s done, she pulls back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

After taking a few moments to collect herself, she slowly gets to her feet with the help of Lia. “Yeah… just feeling a little queasy. That’s it. I think it’s a bug or something. I’ll just…”

As she talks, she moves toward the sink. Turning on the water, she takes a small sip, rinsing her mouth.

“A bug?” I ask skeptically from the doorway, still keeping a safe distance. Usually, the smell of puke doesn’t affect me in the slightest; God knows I’ve been around it for a long-ass time, but my stomach has been rolling since I got here. “You were fine just a few minutes ago.”

“I’ve been feeling off the last few days. It just comes and goes…”

A small, almost panicked chuckle escapes me. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re…”

I stop mid-sentence, the words getting stuck in my throat as I look at her with wide eyes.

“Brook, seriously stop it. Can’t you see she isn’t feeling well?” Lia huffs, but neither of us pays her any attention.

Jeanette’s eyes pop out, her face growing even paler than before. She stumbles a little, but thankfully Lia’s holding on to her forearm, preventing her from smashing face forward.

“Jeanette?” Lia asks worriedly.

Jeanette opens her mouth, but only a sharp wheezing sound comes out. Her pupils are dilated, sweat covering her forehead.

“No, you won’t,” I say, stepping in the small space. The smell of puke is still lingering in the air, but I push back my own discomfort.

One of my hands digs into her shoulder, steadying her swinging body, while with the other I grab her chin and softly shake her.

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