Page 10 of A Very Beary Christmas
Chapter 5
Chloe
“What did she do now?” my father asked, opening the door to find the sheriff standing with me. Despite the fact that it was still early afternoon, his words were already slurred.
I fought the urge to hide behind the sheriff’s big legs.
Silently, I cursed Carly Johnson, the fourth grader who had come into the bathroom while I was throwing up. I had begged her not to tell, but the little tattletale ran to the school nurse and had told anyway.
The nurse had taken my temperature and said I needed to go home. I had told her my father was working and asked if I could just stay in her office until the end of the day. I had promised I would be really quiet and wouldn’t moan or throw up anymore, but she had just looked at me funny and said I was too sick to be in school around other kids and should be home in bed.
She hadn’t been able to get in touch with my father. She had even used the emergency number on my information card, only to discover that the line was no longer in service. Then she had called his work number, unaware that he had been fired. She had called the principal, who in turn called the sheriff.
Dread and fear combined with the aches and nausea I was already feeling, and I knew that whatever happened next, it wouldn’t be good.
“Chloe didn’t do anything,” Sheriff Perkins said. “Your daughter is sick, Mr. Lewis. The school has been trying to contact you.”
“Lost my phone fishing,” my father easily lied. I had seen him toss it into the lake after the social worker called, wanting to know where we were and how I was. “Been meaning to get a new one.”
I kept my eyes on the ground, but I could feel my father’s glare. He didn’t like when people came to the trailer. Especially authority figures.
“You sick?” my father asked, directing his words toward me.
I shuffled my feet, knowing that whatever I said, it would be the wrong thing to say, so I just nodded.
An awkward silence followed before the sheriff cleared his throat and said, “The nurse said she’s running a pretty high fever. You might be wanting to see Doc Evans in town. He’s good with kids.”
My father grunted noncommittally. I wouldn’t be seeing any doctor. They asked too many questions.
“Thanks for bringing her home, Sheriff. Sorry she was a bother.”
“No bother, Mr. Lewis.” I felt the sheriff’s large hand on my shoulder. “Go on inside, Chloe. I need to talk to your daddy for a moment.”
No!I wanted to cry out, but that would only make things worse. So, I went into the trailer, knowing that as bad as I felt, I was going to feel a whole lot worse very soon ...
I awoke with a start just as my father’s fist was about to make contact. Because everyone knew I had been sick and had expected me to be out of school for a while, my father didn’t have to be as careful about not marking me that day. By the time I went back to school a week later, no one was the wiser. Sam had come by the trailer a few times when my dad hadn’t been around, but I couldn’t have answered even if I’d wanted to.
Feeling much like I had that day so long ago, I shivered, huddling into an even tighter ball beneath the covers. My whole body was shaking. I couldn’t get warm. It didn’t help that my hair was wet and my skin slick with sweat.
Eventually, nature’s call forced me out of bed.
The moment I stood, the room swam and my stomach lurched sickeningly. Despite my limited social interactions, I had somehow managed to pick up the flu.
My muscles protested with every step. How much of that was due to all the snow shoveling I had done and how much was due to illness, I didn’t know, but it didn’t really matter. I was as dizzy and weak as a pup either way.
As I took care of business, I briefly debated whether I should heat up some soup or not. What was that saying? Was it feed a cold and starve a fever, or the other way around? I didn’t know. At that moment, I didn’t even care. Just the effort involved in my short trip to the bathroom had wiped me out.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to the bear in my painting. I had promised him I would finish his wintry forest cave home today, but I didn’t feel up to it. He would have to be content with the partial scene until I could see straight. “Maybe tomorrow, okay?”
He stared back at me with those big, kind eyes, and I knew he understood.
I crawled back into bed, hoping that the fever-induced dreams would take me somewhere more pleasant than the last ones had.
