Page 35 of Life and Death
I let my eyelids fall shut again. “You were right.”
“I usually am—but about what in particular this time?”
“Ditchingishealthy.” I worked to breathe in and out evenly.
“You scared me for a minute there,” she admitted after a pause. The way she said it made it sound like she was confessing a weakness, something to be ashamed of. “I thought that Newton girl had poisoned you.”
“Hilarious.” I still had my eyes shut, but I was feeling more normal every minute.
“Honestly,” she said, “I’ve seen corpses with better color. I was concerned that I might have to avenge your death.”
“I bet McKayla’s annoyed.”
“She absolutely loathes me,” Edythe said cheerfully.
“You don’t know that,” I countered, but then I wondered. . . .
“You should have seen her face. It was obvious.”
“How did you even see us? I thought you were ditching.”
I was pretty much fine now, though the queasiness would probably have passed faster if I’d eaten something for lunch. On the other hand, maybe it was lucky my stomach was empty.
“I was in my car, listening to a CD.” Such a normal response—it surprised me.
I heard the door and opened my eyes to see the nurse with a cold compress in his hand.
“Here you go, son.” He laid it across my forehead. “You’re looking better,” he added.
“I think I’m okay,” I said, sitting up. Just a little ringing in my ears, no spinning. The mint green walls stayed where they should.
I could tell he was about to make me lie back down, but the door opened just then, and Mr. Cope stuck his head in.
“We’ve got another one,” he warned.
I lurched off the cot to make room for the next victim and handed the compress back to the nurse. “Here, I don’t need this.”
And then McKayla staggered through the door, now supporting Leann Stephens, another girl in our Biology class. She was currently sallow green. Edythe and I drew back against the wall to give them room.
“Oh no,” Edythe murmured. “Go out to the office, Beau.”
I looked down at her, confused.
“Trust me—go.”
I spun and caught the door before it closed, floundering out of the infirmary. I could feel Edythe right behind me.
“You actually listened to me,” she said, surprised.
“I smelled the blood.” Leann wasn’t sick from just watching other people. Much less embarrassing, I thought.
“People can’t smell blood,” Edythe contradicted.
“I can—that’s what makes me sick. It smells like rust . . . and salt.”
She was staring at me with a wary expression.
“What?” I asked.
