Page 64 of Owned By The Cowboy
I check my phone. Seven-fifteen. The kids need to be up and getting ready for school, lunches need to be made, and I feel like death warmed over.
I try to get out of bed and immediately regret it. Whatever this is, flu, food poisoning, some kind of plague, it’s not messing around.
“Mama?” Nia’s voice carries down the hallway. “Are you awake?”
“Coming, baby,” I call back, but my voice comes out as more of a groan.
I force myself to stand, grab my robe, and make it about three steps to the door before I have to sit back down. This is not good.
“Ma?” This time it’s Jaylen. “Annalise can’t find her math folder.”
“Check the kitchen table,” I try to yell back, but it comes out as a pathetic grunt.
I hear footsteps in the hall, and then Nia appears at my door
“Mama, you look terrible!”
“Thanks, baby. That’s exactly what every woman wants to hear.”
“No, I mean you look really sick. Like, maybe-you-should-go-to-the-hospital sick.”
“I’m fine, baby. Just a little under the weather.”
“You’re not fine. You’re gray.”
“I’m not gray.”
“You’re totally gray. And you’re shaking.”
I look down at my hands. She’s right. I’m shaking like a leaf.
“Okay, maybe I’m a little sick. But I can still…”
“No.” Nia crosses her arms, sounding way older than fourteen. “You’re going back to bed. Now.”
“But you guys need…”
“We need you to not pass out on the kitchen floor. I can handle getting everyone ready.”
“Nia, you’re still on crutches.”
“I can make cereal and find math folders on crutches. And Jaylen can drive us to school.”
“Jaylen doesn’t have his license yet.”
“He has his permit. And it’s just like five blocks.”
“That’s not how permits work, baby.”
“Then I’ll call Grandma.”
I’m about to argue when a wave of nausea hits me, and I have to put my head between my knees to keep from throwing up.
“That’s it,” Nia says. “I’m calling.”
“Don’t call Grandma. She’ll panic and…”
“Fine, I’m not calling Grandma.”
