“Thanks.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Not too much. Just feels weird with all these tubes.”
“I didn’t know,” she says, standing up and walking over to the side of my bed.
“Know what?”
“That it would be so . . . hard.”
I give a short laugh, but abruptly stop, clutching my stomach at the quick stabbing pain it caused.
“Did you think it would be like going to the dentist or something?” I say. I don’t tell her the hard part is only just now starting. Let her try spending her days eating three tablespoons of food for each meal.
“Why do you always act like I’m so stupid?” Briella asks.
Of course, now it’s all about her. Even with me lying in a hospital room stuck full of tubes every where. I don’t have the energy to argue with her. I punch the button in my hand and lean back on the pillow, closing my eyes.
“You’re not stupid,” I say in a monotone. Eventually, I hear her move away from the bed and go back to the chair.
“You’re lucky you don’t have to take finals,” Briella says from the chair. “I wish I could miss the last five weeks of school.”
“Good grades make a lot of things possible. You should try it,” I say, with my eyes still closed. “Besides I think finals would have been a lot easier than this.”
“For you, maybe.”
I open my eyes and look over at Briella. She has her English book open now, and she is staring down at a blank notebook page, twirling a pencil around in one hand.
“What’s your grade?” I ask.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“It can’t be that bad. You’ve paid me to write almost every essay.”
“It wasn’t all essays. There were some stupid in-class tests over the readings. You couldn’t take those for me,” she mumbles. “Summer school’s bad. Mom is going to kill me.”
“Can you save it with your final?” It feels good to talk about something besides the surgery. Something normal outside these hospital walls.
“I could, but I won’t. I’ve never brought my grade up by a final. I’m not so good at tests. Besides, I have this big essay due next week even before finals.”
Her shoulders slump, and she looks so dejected I almost take pity on her. Then I remember. It’s Briella.
“You didn’t come here just to give Rat a break, did you?”
“What do you mean?” She gives me an “I don’t know what you’re talking about” look, and I know I’ve nailed it.
“You’ve got to be kidding, Briella. Look at me,” I yell across the hospital room. “You want me to do your homework now?”
“Don’t get so excited. It’s no big deal. Honestly.” Briella rolls her eyes at me and slams her book shut. She scribbles angrily on the paper in front of her.
“She’s only glad you’re alive because of what you can do for her. She doesn’t care about you.”
Evidently, Skinny survived the surgery, too.
Chapter Nine
Five days after the surgery, someone knocks on my bedroom door.
“Come in.”
“Hey.” It’s Rat, followed closely by Roxanne. She has a yellow tennis ball in her mouth and her tail is whipping around like a helicopter. She loves Rat almost as much as she loves food. Which is saying a lot.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” I ask him.
“I called and told them I was going to have the flu this week.”
“But you will ruin your perfect attendance record.” Rat hasn’t missed a day of school since we all had chicken pox in first grade.
“It’s okay. Principal Watson has decided not to give out the certificates. He doesn’t want to reward kids for doing what they should do.” His blond hair is sticking out on the top of his head like he just ran his hands through it. But it always looks like that. “I’m exempt from all my finals anyway.”
I always forget about the perfect grade-point combination that results in the exemption prize. I’m usually close, but not perfect. Apparently, the only way I get to skip finals is with a major doctor’s excuse and tons of extra work.
Roxanne’s brown head pops up over the side of the bed. She has the tennis ball in her mouth and a hopeful look on her face. While I watch she carefully opens her mouth and lets the tennis ball roll across the bed toward my hand. I ignore her.
“So you’re here?” I have to admit I like the idea. I breathe in a deep sigh and feel myself relax.
“Somebody had to get you started on the right track.” He slides his backpack off his shoulder and perches on the edge of my bed. “Charlotte and your dad had to go back to work. Ugly One and Two are at school. Who else?”