“You're the one who was cheating on me.” Trying to calm down, I stuff my anger down as deep as I can get it. My stomach churns with it, but I don't rip the phone off of the wall. And I don't cry.
“I know,” he admits. “And I deserved to be treated like shit for it. But I've been punished enough, Mike. And you said you forgave me. I don't understand what you want from me.”
Taking a deep breath, I try to be kind while still being firm and not giving him a chance to think that maybe I don't mean what I'm saying. “I want you to have a very nice life and to stay out of mine.”
“Mike... I can't do that.”
“I mean it, Troy. Go away.”
My hand is shaking too hard to hang up the phone, so Warren does it for me, just before he wraps me into a tight embrace and whispers, “It's okay, Michaela.”
It's okay, Michaela....
The assurance sweeps over me, breaks the dam that was holding back my emotions. But I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to attack anything. The violence of suppressing my urges takes hold of my stomach, twists and won't let go.
Wrenching away from Warren, I lurch toward the nearest wastebasket. Oh, God. My entire body quivers as I vomit. I can't believe I'm doing this now, in front of Warren. If I wasn't being sick already, that would push me over the edge.
Sam's eyes are huge as I pull back. “Wow. I've been so upset I wanted to spew before, but I've never done it.”
I smile weakly. “Sorry.”
“You done with that?” she gestures toward the trashcan.
“I think so.” Taking a deep breath, I get a whiff of the can's contents and very nearly need it again.
“You should lie down,” the fox tells me gently, moving to take the mess away. Her hand gives mine a sympathetic squeeze as she leaves.
“What just happened?” Warren stares at me in clear concern. “Do you have a virus?”
Wishing my toothbrush wasn't a whole floor away, I laugh without heart. “No. I used to do that a lot when I was little,” I admit. “When normal kids would cry or throw tantrums, I puked. The first month of my parent's separation, I couldn't keep anything down.” I walk by him and head for the stairs. I'm sure I would be wearing a furious blush if my blood hadn't all drained from my face.
“You didn't throw up last week.”
I glance at him, wondering about the tone of his voice. There's a strange uncertainty, almost fear, in it. “I wasn't as stressed last week.”
Nodding, he follows me up the stairs, hovering behind me as though frightened I'm going to plummet backwards, break my neck, and be moderately inconvenienced for a few days.
“I'm fine, Warren.”
“You don't sound fine.”
My stomach heaves again in aftershock, keeping me from answering, but I thankfully manage to keep down everything that's left in me. Not that it's much.
Warren backs off when I go into my room, throw myself on the bed, and curl up into a ball. He stands in the open doorway, just watching me, worried and only slightly freaky.
“What is that?” he asks, his eyes narrowing on the stuffed animal I clutch against my chest.
“This is Leo.” I smile sheepishly. “He's been my best friend since preschool.”
The wolf grunts.
“You have to go to work,” I remind him. The revolting taste clinging to my mouth reminds me I had wanted to brush my teeth, but I don't feel like moving again.
“Yeah.”
He hesitates to leave though.
“I'll be fine,” I assure him. “It's just my nerves.”
Nodding, he nevertheless stays where he is.
“There's a building full of people who can help me if I need anything.” Although it is kind of sweet that he doesn't want to leave me.
“Right,” he grunts. “See you later then.”
“That is one of the strangest people on Earth,” I tell Leo a second before leaping up and dashing to the toilet to finish emptying the contents of my stomach. Ugh. Why am I still doing this? Didn't the first round calm me enough?
After I flush the most recent evidence of my emotional unrest, I grab my toothbrush and try to erase all reminders from my mouth. The girl looking out of my mirror hardly looks like me. Pale as a Gothic dream, she looks too vulnerable and frail to be me.
There's a knock on the door as I crawl under my comforter. “Come in,” I call out weakly.
“Mike?”
The voice I hear isn't the one I was expecting. “Hey, Tod. I thought you were Sam.”
He shuffles, looking like he's going to leave and take the tray of whatever he's holding with him.
“You can stay,” I tell him, and he smiles as he moves forward some more.
“The grapevine says you don't feel so well.”
I sigh. “For once, it knows of which it speaks.”
“Sorry to hear that.” The tray, which he sits on the bedside table, holds a teapot and a dainty china cup. “We made you some tea,” he informs me, somewhat needlessly. “It's ginger and mint,” he adds, more helpfully. “It's supposed to help with nausea. My grandmother swears by it.”
Sitting up, I smile with as much energy as I can put into it, which is remarkably little. “Well, if your grandmother thinks it will help...”
He pours some of the liquid into the little cup and hands it over to me. It radiates comfort, both with its heat and its scent.
“So, other than the vomiting, how's your day been?” Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he watches me investigate the tea. The sip I take is calming, soothing. “Sam said you were somewhere with Warren,” he digs unabashedly.
Motioning him to sit on the edge of the bed, which he does with only slight embarrassment, I tell him the basics of what happened. “He wanted to know if I'd ever been boarding, then if I wanted to try it. Then, when I said sure, he was all, 'Now?' And next thing I knew, I was skipping school to learn how to snowboard.”
Tod makes a noncommittal noise. “The falling isn't so bad. But the getting up's a bitch.”
Bitch... Troy said I was a bitch.
“And the hopping,” I reply in a rush, not letting myself think about my ex. I think about snowboards instead and about how snowboards don't come with poles like skis do, so if you need to start moving from a stop, you have to do it with a series of annoying little jumps.
Frowning at the panic in my words, Tod adds, “And the way you have to fiddle around with the bindings before and after every lift.”
We nod, both convinced boarding is fine, but in no way superior to skiing.
Tod shifts. “But, anyway... The big bad wolf decided to teach you?”
The big bad wolf? Have I called Warren that out loud, or is it just an obvious thing to call him?
“Yeah.” I hold out my cup for a refill. The brew's helping. “Except he wasn't acting like the big bad wolf most of the time. It was like at Denali's last weekend. He was nice, friendly... Likable even.”
“And it was his idea to go?” he verifies.
“Completely.” I narrow my eyes at my friend, who won't look back at me. “What do you think's up with him?”
“I don't know. But something is.” He shrugs. “That wolf business maybe?”
“He said the last few weeks have been weird,” I acknowledge.
“So maybe he's just stressed over something.”
I frown at my beverage. “He didn't want to talk about it.” The last of the tea slides down my throat, and I hand the cup over. “Thank you. I think it's helping.”
“I'll send Grandma your thanks.”
Smiling, I laugh softly. “Do that.”
“So...” Tod watches me as I curl around Leo. “The guy on the phone...”
My eyes close. “Not someone I enjoy discussing.”
“But Warren knew who he was?”
I look at Tod, taking in the details of his expression. He doesn't seem hurt by the observation, or jealous that Warren knows things he doesn't. It was just a fact.
“He sor
t of witnessed my last Troy-related breakdown,” I admit. Swallowing, I decide continuing to bottle up as many things as I have been probably isn't healthy. Witness my stomach's recent rebellion. “Long story short, Troy and I went out for about half a year. Then he started seeing someone I hated behind my back.”
Tod scowls. “And you're still willing to talk to him?”
“Not really.” I sigh. “I just took the call so I could tell him to leave me alone.”
“Good.”
His vehemence strikes me as odd. “Funny you of all people would be so upset on my behalf.”
“What do you mean?” He squints at me, then rolls his eyes as he figures that out on his own. “Lyly's never cheated on me. She always breaks up with me before...” He ends the sentence without finishing it, taking a deep breath and making me feel guilty for bringing up his sometimes-girlfriend. “It's a fox thing, Mike. My parents are the same way. They've been together forever, but Dad's only around a few months every two years or so.” He smiles a little. “You may have noticed the spacing between my siblings.”
“And your mom is okay with it?” I ask, confused by the idea she could be.
He shrugs. “She was. About four years ago, he showed up, and she wouldn't let him in the house.”
I snort. “Good for her.”
Tod's eyes narrow at me. “Don't judge him by human standards.”
“You know, I'm getting so tired of people using their animals as excuses for bad behavior.”
Sighing, Tod looks at the carpet. “You just don't understand. Your animal doesn't speak to you yet.”
I open my mouth to argue.
“I'm going to dinner,” he cuts me off as he stands. “Do you feel well enough to eat anything? Or do you want me to bring you something?”
Considering my condition, I try to decide. “I think I'll come with you. If the smells make me sick, I don't need to be eating.”
With a sharp nod, Tod grabs the tea tray and leads the way out the door.
We make it only a few yards before being attacked by a shrill demand. “What are you doing?”
In response to the shrieking, Tod stops, gazing calmly down at his erstwhile girlfriend. “Going to the dining hall.”
“You were in her room!” Lyly yells.
Tod's eyes shift to me for half a second. I slink toward the wall, wishing there was room to easily get around the couple and continue on my way. “Yes,” he says simply.
“You were in her room!” The declaration is even louder this time.
“Yes.” This response is just as calm as the last.
“Alone!”
Tod sighs. Yes, he was in my room unchaperoned. That isn't against the rules here unless the door is closed, which is wasn't. “Do you have a point?” he asks, still calm to the point of being eerie. She sputters at him. “No? Could you get out of the way then? You're blocking the entire hallway.”
Taking a very jerky breath, she nods, moving aside to let Tod pass, which he does with a somewhat majestic air.
But as soon as he is by, she jumps in front of me. “You stay away from him, you stinky harlot! You're stupid and you're ugly and you smell like a sewer! You're not half-good enough for him!”
The teapot crashes against a wall.
Lyly spins to stare at it, then to stare at Tod, who is wearing an expression of absolute fury.
“I'll grab a roll later,” I say hastily, running back to the safety of my room.
The door shuts on the sound of Tod yelling at Lyly, blocking most of the racket. The rest is drowned out by my renewed retching.
Chapter Thirteen
“It's Aliah?”
The fox in question sticks her head around the door, looking for confirmation that my bid to enter would be extended to her. “I brought some rolls? And a baked potato? And some broth? If you think you can eat any of that?”
One day, I would like to figure out why Aliah has such a distinct tendency to make even the most obvious of statements into questions. My initial assumption had been that she was nervous, but surely she shouldn't still feel shy around me.
“It sounds great,” I tell her. “Thank you.”
She tiptoes into the room, balancing a cafeteria tray loaded with the aforementioned items, a container of chocolate milk, and another pot of tea. The new teapot is metal, presumably a statement on the fate of the last one to get sent to my room. Which is totally not fair since I wasn't the one to break it.
“Sam and Tod said to tell you they had to leave early for the meeting?” Putting the tray down on the desk, she looks down at it as if wondering what she should do next.
“What meeting?” I get off the bed and walk to where she stands. My stomach cramps, but I don't feel too sick.
“Den meeting?” She looks surprised I didn't know. “Tod's the Father of our little den here, but it's just the kiddie den? He still has to report to the grown-up one every Friday? And let them know what's going on? It's kind of intrusive, but they only do it because they care, you know?”
I pick up one of the rolls and start picking at it as I sit on the end of the bed. “Do you all go?”
“Sometimes.” Shrugging, she leans against the desk. “I usually only go on holidays? But we're allowed anytime. Sam goes a lot. She's going to be our Mother when Tod graduates...”
Aliah pulls a hunk of hair over her shoulder and combs it with her fingers while I eat my bread. “I think my sister's going? But I don't know why?” She twists her hair, frowning down at the carpet. “She's always been uptight, high strung? But she's gotten really unbearable lately?” Her startling pink eyes look up to me. “Tod wouldn't tell us what started the argument today, but I've never seen him so angry with her before? You know why.”
Funny. Now she actually does want to ask a question, she made a statement.
I tear apart the last of my roll, focusing on it, rolling it into a little ball with my fingertips. “She was just jealous because he was spending time with me. It's probably good news for him when he calms down.”
“Oh.”
The syllable is mournful. She doesn't seem to think it would be good for them to get back together any more than I do. Maybe I haven't seen Lyly at her best, but if anyone isn't half-worthy of Tod, it's her. I don't care how gorgeous she is.
“So...” Aliah tugs her finger through her hair some more. “If you need me to take the tray down later, call me?”
“I'd rather you just stay. If you aren't busy.”
“You would?” The shock on her face makes me incredibly glad I made the offer.
“If I stay alone any more, I'm going to start moping.”
Her laugh is timid and shy, but still beautiful. When she smiles, her whole face changes. All of a sudden, she's at least as pretty as her sister. Not in Lyly's runway sort of way, but in a way that's much more genuine and valuable.
She doesn't say much as we sit in front of my television, but she looks comfortable and content. By the time the Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathon we stumble across is over, she's almost fallen asleep curled up on my floor.
Morning comes without me noticing, and I sleep until it's nearly lunch, not emerging from the shower until the kitchen is serving. In a sweatshirt that needs introducing to a washing machine and my most comfortable ratty pair of jeans, I go downstairs expecting it to be deserted.
It is not deserted.
The entire den, minus Lyly, sits in the dining room. And all of them watch me as I enter. Suspiciously, none of them have any food. Meals are made to order on weekends because so few people come into the hall, and the cook on duty today is sitting with the foxes, looking very relaxed.
They try to give me encouraging smiles, but the effect of all dozen of them doing it at once isn't exactly comforting. It's almost exactly the opposite.
My eyes rove over them, looking for a hint of what's going on and coming up empty. “This is like one of those dreams where you have the lead in a play, but you realize on opening night you've never even read
the script.”
“You're not the one with lines,” Tod assures me, nodding to one of the freshmen, who blushes a crimson to match his hair and stumbles to his feet. His sister hisses something to him, handing him a box and an urgent look. “You're doing fine, Nate,” Tod whispers, looking toward me.
Except, Tod's lying. Nate is doing nothing other than gaping at me. His eyes are frantic and his lines, whatever they may be, are clearly forgotten.
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