365 Days Alone

by Nancy Isaak

  Once again, Cherry scanned the area around us carefully.

  Then she motioned us in closer, whispering, “Peyton’s really upset. I didn’t catch much, but it’s over some ‘big lie’. She said that when ‘everybody found out’…”

  Cherry suddenly stopped talking.

  Sue and Rachel—the twins—had just come out of the theater. We waited for what seemed like forever for them to cross to the far side of Driver Avenue and head toward Chumash Park.

  The moment they were gone, however, Jay turned back to Cherry. “What did Peyton think would happen when we found out whatever?”

  “Peyton said that we would revolt,” Cherry confided, her eyes shining with excitement. “She said that it would be a freaking revolution!”

  FEBRUARY

  JOURNAL ENTRY #19

  Five days until Valentine’s Day!

  It’s so unfair.

  * * * *

  Jay won’t stop teasing me about the ‘Secret Valentine’ that I gave Jacob Riker last year. It wasn’t anything special, just a heart that I drew. On the back, I wrote that it was from his ‘secret admirer’. During homeroom, I stuck it through the slots of Jacob’s locker.

  He found it at lunchtime.

  I know, because I was talking to Jay across the walkway. (Well, we were pretend-talking. What we were really doing was Jacob-stalking.)

  When he pulled the card out and realized that it was a valentine, Jacob immediately looked around. Our eyes met for, like half a second, but I’m pretty sure he figured out that it was from me because he smiled.

  Of course, stupid Brandon Keretsky had to come along right then and rip the valentine out of Jacob’s hand. Then it de-evolved into stupid boy-stuff, with Brandon running off with the valentine held above his head and Jacob chasing him.

  This year, I was kind of hoping that I would get my own ‘Secret Admirer’ valentine from the boy that I love.

  Guess that’s not going to be happening.

  So unfair!

  OH, AMELIE

  Even without boys, we girls had one thing we could all look forward to on February 14th. Because it was also Yazmeen’s 18th birthday, the Council had decided to give our community a combined birthday/Valentine’s Day party.

  Sophia was in charge of the refreshments and—a few days before the big event—she asked me to meet up with her in the kitchen. I had assumed that it was to help with the party-preparations.

  Sadly, I was mistaken.

  “You need to talk to Jude for me,” a frazzled-looking Sophia announced, as soon as I came through the door. She stood—hands on her hips in front of me—as if barring entry.

  “About what?” I asked, unable to stop myself from peeking over Sophia’s shoulder. There were dirty dishes everywhere and the garbage cans were overflowing.

  A bucket of soaking beans was on the floor near the stove; live flies were buzzing above the beans—dead flies were floating on the scum of the bean-water.

  Frankly—the kitchen was a pigsty.

  And Sophia wasn’t looking much better.

  The tidy, clean girl I had once known had somehow turned nasty.

  Her hair was greasy and so was her skin. There were yellow pit stains on her blouse and I didn’t even want to guess what the dark spots were on her pants.

  Sophia moved to her left—trying to block my view—and shook a finger at me. “It’s bad enough that Jude is going to hell, but Lily is just a little girl!”

  Oh crap…religion.

  I looked around quickly, hoping that there might be someone nearby who could save me from a conversation that I really didn’t want to have. Unfortunately, Sophia and I appeared to be alone.

  “Um…Sophia,” I finally stammered. “I’m not really sure what you want me to do here.”

  “That ‘girl’ is your friend,” she barked. “So, you tell Jude that Lily needs to be going to church.”

  “Church?” This was getting so confusing.

  “Church?!” Sophia looked insulted. “The mass that Reena and I lead every Sunday in the theater.”

  “Oh, of course,” I mumbled. “Sorry…I forgot.”

  I didn’t forget…I didn’t even know there was a Sunday mass.

  “So, will you tell her?” asked Sophia. “Because she’ll listen to you. You tell that ‘girl’ that Lily’s immortal soul is at risk!”

  What choice did I have—being confronted with ‘crazy’ like that?

  I lied.

  “Um…okay.”

  * * * *

  I eventually found Jude, Lily, and Shawnee just outside the room Orla and the Council had set up for a Medical Center. It was connected to the school’s Nurse’s Office and outfitted with a handful of emergency cots. Beside each cot was a pail to be used as a bedpan.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, the moment I saw the worry on all of their faces.

  Jude pointed inside the Medical Center. When I looked through the door, I saw that the cots were all empty—except one.

  “It’s Amelie,” said Shawnee, sadly.

  Lily began to sob. “She’s really sick!”

  * * * *

  Even though the Council had set up the Medical Center soon after our community had assembled, it had never been used for anything more than disinfecting scratches and putting on bandages. The worst medical emergency that we had experienced so far was when a 9th grader was stung by a bee and had a slight allergic reaction. That had been treated with a couple of antihistamines.

  But now—we had our first true medical emergency.

  And it was Amelie.

  * * * *

  A few hours previously—just after lunch—Peyton had dropped Amelie off at our house. Peyton had a Council meeting to attend, and it had become routine for Amelie to spend those times with Lily and Shawnee.

  Usually, the three girls would chase each other around in the backyard for a while, before coming inside for snacks (typically oranges which we picked off the neighbors’ tree—thank you, California!). The rest of the girls’ time together would be spent kid-gossiping or trying on make-up that Amelie would bring from Peyton’s seemingly inexhaustible supply.

  This day, however—when Amelie was dropped off—Jude said that she hadn’t seemed like herself. The younger girl was too tired to play tag and fell asleep during the make-up session; her orange went untouched and she eventually started coughing.

  Because I had been called to the kitchen by Sophia, Jay and Jude were alone with the young girls. Cherry and Wandy had dropped Shawnee off earlier and were away somewhere, enjoying some private time together. They weren’t due to be back until sometime later in the afternoon.

  * * * *

  (It’s important to remember here that Jay not only wanted to be an astronaut/doctor when she grew up, but that her mother had been a pediatrician back in Pakistan. In that way, Jay had grown up with medicine in her blood.

  Whenever I was sick—it was Jay I would call first. She would diagnose whatever I had and then we’d go to her mother for confirmation.

  It was almost like a game we would all play.

  To prepare Jay for her future—at least, the one she hoped she would have.)

  * * * *

  When Jude told me that Jay had become increasingly alarmed by Amelie’s symptoms that morning, it didn’t surprise me. If anyone would have recognized that Amelie was in danger, it would have been Jay.

  So—even as Amelie’s eyes were rolling up in her head—Jay and Jude were racing down the middle of the road, carrying a bundled up Amelie toward the Medical Center.

  Meanwhile, Lily and Shawnee trailed behind, sobbing—terrified for their young friend.

  * * * *

  The Medical Center was empty when they arrived—not that it would have made a difference.

  Because Loran—the 11th grader the Council had put in charge—had no medical training. She was really only there to hand out Bactine and bandages.

  But—luckily—there were supplies at the Center—and medications. And
—while Jay wasn’t a doctor—she was absolutely the closest thing we had to one.

  Within moments of taking Amelie’s temperature, Jay realized that the girl was in serious trouble. Her body temperature had risen so high that she was burning up inside.

  At 105 degrees and rising—Amelie was in mortal danger.

  * * * *

  Right around the time that I arrived at the Medical Center, Jay had become frantic. She felt that it was imperative that Amelie’s temperature be brought down immediately. Even unconscious, it was obvious that Amelie was in terrible shape; she was pale and sweating, groaning as if in pain.

  “My mom says that a fever is the body’s way of burning off sickness,” Jay told us. “But then it gets to a point where the body can’t handle the higher temperatures. That’s when the seizures will start.”

  As if she had been listening, Amelie began to spasm. She made harsh, grunting noises, and her eyes rolled back in her head.

  “It’s time!” yelled Jay. “We have to cool her down now!”

  But that wasn’t going to be easy—because Jay had no way to lower Amelie’s temperature.

  Even if there actually were medicines capable of treating Amelie in the Medical Center, Jay didn’t know what they were—and Loran, of course, was completely useless.

  Plus, not having electricity meant not having air conditioning, or cold water—or ice.

  So, if Jay was going to bring down Amelie’s temperature, it was going to have to be with something pretty darn creative…and pretty darn quick.

  * * * *

  Most people would have given up.

  The Goddess of Victory went to work.

  My friend, this tiny little girl—all 5’1” of her—began barking out orders.

  —Lily was to go to the Foxes Compound to bring back Peyton.

  —Shawnee was to run to the cafeteria and grab as much water as she could.

  —Jude and I needed to pick up Amelie and carry her to the foul area.

  Jay, meanwhile, followed behind, bringing a large towel.

  Water…towel…foul area—it showed how much we trusted Jay that, confused as we all were, not a single one of us questioned her intentions.

  * * * *

  Jay had Jude and me lay Amelie down in one of the foul area trenches. (It was a smaller furrow that had just been dug, so it had never been used!)

  Then Jay laid the towel over top of the young girl, leaving only her head exposed.

  Shawnee, meanwhile, raced up with a large bottle of water. She had bumped into Sue and Rachel—the twins—in the cafeteria. They had come along, each carrying their own water.

  Jay immediately grabbed the bottle from Shawnee and began pouring its contents over the towel-covered body of Amelie, soaking her upper torso. Then Jay reached down, slid her hand under the towel and checked the shaking girl’s temperature.

  “She’s still burning up. Take off your shirts…quick!” Jay told us.

  Only Jude and I instantly obeyed.

  Shawnee and the twins merely gaped at Jay as if she was mad.

  “We need to get Amelie’s temperature down!” insisted Jay. “I think she’s having these seizures because she’s too hot. If we don’t lower her temperature, she could die.”

  Shawnee immediately ripped off her top.

  Sue and Rachel, however, slowly backed up, obviously uncomfortable by what was being asked of them. Moments later, they had disappeared completely—running back the way they had come.

  “Okay,” Jay ordered the rest of us, “you need to surround Amelie. It’s cold in the ground here, but we’re going to make it even colder. We’re going to make old-school air conditioning—straight out of the olden days. I’m going to pour water over the towel. You guys flap your shirts up and down over Amelie. We want to create enough of an air current that it begins evaporation and cools her down.”

  Following Jay’s instructions—we circled Amelie’s hole, swinging our t-shirts above her spasming body.

  * * * *

  I could only imagine how it must have looked to the Foxes (and their Protection Detail), when they raced around the corner a few minutes later. Three half-naked girls waving their shirts over a large ‘pee-hole’, in which Jay was standing, pouring a bottle of water over a towel-covered, spasming Amelie.

  Orla made it only halfway to the hole before she stopped, hand to her mouth in horror. Tray, however, pulled out her gun—anger distorting her features.

  “No, Tray…stop!” It was Peyton who yelled, rushing forward to stand next to me at the edge of the hole.

  “What the hell, Peyton!” snarled Tray. “That’s Amelie down in there!”

  “But they’re helping her!” Peyton leaned down on her knees until her eyes became level with Jay’s—who was still standing in the furrow. “Please tell me that you’re helping my sister,” Peyton begged. “Please!”

  “We’re trying to lower Amelie’s temperature,” explained Jay. “It was the only way I could think of to cool her down. It’s something my dad told me once—of how they did it back in Pakistan, in his village. Putting someone in the ground and pouring water over top of them.”

  “Evaporation,” murmured Peyton—getting it.

  Tray’s response, however, was an unimpressed snort.

  Jay ignored her, concentrating instead on Peyton. “It’s just like we learned in Science class. ‘Evaporative cooling’—for water to be changed to a vapor, it needs heat, which it’ll take from Amelie’s body! And increased wind current accelerates evaporation. So if we do it right and it works, it should bring her fever down.”

  Surprisingly, Peyton must have understood, because she immediately took off her shirt and joined us—increasing the air current around Amelie.

  Down in the hole, meanwhile, the spasming of the young girl’s body lessened. Then, finally—it stopped.

  After a few more minutes, Jay pulled back the towel and placed a thermometer in Amelie’s mouth. The young girl’s body was wet and covered in dirt—but her temperature was finally down and her eyes were fluttering open.

  She gazed half-lidded up at her sister and smiled weakly. “Hey, Peyton.”

  Then…Amelie closed her eyes and passed out again.

  * * * *

  Two hours later, an exhausted Jay joined Jude and me.

  We were sitting on the floor just outside of the Medical Center, and Jay slid down the wall to sit between us. Through the open doorway, meanwhile, we could see inside to where Peyton—leaning over Amelie’s sick bed—was rearranging the younger girl’s covers.

  “How’s Amelie doing?” I asked.

  “Her temperature is back to normal,” Jay yawned, “but she’s still really sick.”

  “What is it?” asked Jude.

  “I don’t know,” Jay admitted. “She’s running a fever, she’s nauseous, feels weak all over. Those symptoms are usually because of some infection or something. But then Amelie’s also got these big bruises on one side of her waist—kind of like she’s been beaten.”

  Jude’s face darkened. “Is there a chance that she was…I mean, beaten?”

  Jay shook her head. “I don’t think so. Amelie seemed honestly shocked to see them on her body. So did Peyton—which makes me believe that the bruises are happening internally.” She sighed, frustrated. “I just wish my mom was here. She’d know.”

  “Is there a book that you can look in, maybe in the nurse’s office or the school library?” I suggested.

  “Orla had the Detail bring all the medical books they could find to the Center. I’ve gone through every one but—whatever Amelie’s got—I just don’t know enough to figure it out.”

  “Yet,” I said, patting Jay’s hand. “You just need a little more time.”

  “What about Loran?” asked Jude—meaning the 11th grader who was assigned to the Medical Center. “What does she think is wrong with Amelie?”

  Jay leaned her head back against the wall, frowning. “Loran’s too scared to go anywhere near Amelie…afraid
she’ll catch something.”

  “Do you think what Amelie has is contagious?” My thoughts had gone to Lily and Shawnee, thinking of how close all three girls had become.

  “Well, that’s another thing I just don’t know!” Jay’s frustration was increasing. “But whatever it is—we need to be smart now. It’s gotta’ be gloves and masks for everyone going into her room from now on. And they gotta’ quarantine Amelie until someone figures out what’s wrong with her. I mean, it just makes sense. If something gets into this community—with what little medical knowledge we have—it could be deadly for all of us.”

  “You mean like the plague?” asked Jude.

  “No,” sighed Jay. “I mean like the flu.”

  * * * *

  Living in an industrialized nation in the 21st Century, American kids like ourselves generally didn’t worry about something like the flu. That was for third world countries like Somalia or Eritrea, where the medical systems were poor and the sanitary conditions even worse—where what was an easily cured sickness in our country became often deadly in theirs.

  Third world countries were where the flu was so dangerous, that it wiped out thousands of people around the globe every year.

  But not in America, and definitely not in one of its wealthiest states.

  No, in California—we bravely submitted to our annual flu shots and, if we did manage to get sick, there were always medicines and doctors and hospitals to save us.