Dear diary, it’s just a cough.

Seriously, why is everyone getting so worked up over one cough? There wasn’t even any blood in it. I just drank some water a little too fast after breakfast then suddenly Mum was barrelling towards me, pressing her hand against my forehead and shooting worried glances at Dad. Danny was confused too. They offered me a shrug and went on with getting ready. I wasn’t allowed out of the kitchen for another ten minutes of Mum fussing over me.

If that wasn’t enough, Mum cancelled this afternoon’s tutoring session and would’ve stopped me from going to school too if Dad hadn’t stepped in.

“Maybe she’s fine,” he said.

“What if she isn’t? We can’t risk her getting sick.”

“I’m not getting sick,” I insisted. “I just choked on the water.”

Mum shook her head. “That was a cough. Don’t lie to me, Emma. Do you feel anything scratchy in your throat? Does your chest feel okay? Have you had a runny nose lately?”

“I’m fine. My throat’s a little sore because of choking on water, but that’s it.”

“Have you been taking your medicine?” Dad asked.

“Yes.”

Dad turned to Mum. “Maybe it was just the water.”

And then my body betrayed me. I coughed again. It felt like an after effect of the water, but I knew it was pointless to argue that. Mum was already calling the school and telling them that I was sick. I tried to make eye contact with Dad and silently reason with him, but that second cough turned him to her side. He started boiling the kettle and pulled out honey and ginger. I barely got a sound out before Mum was whisking me away to bed.

“This is silly. I feel fine.”

“I’m not risking you wearing yourself out and getting worse by going to school. You can complain all you want, but you won’t change my mind. Now make yourself comfortable. I want you in bed for the rest of the day.”

I went to argue that I was perfectly capable of going to school, but I stopped myself when I caught her eye. Mum looked scared. It doesn’t make sense because there really wasn’t anything wrong, but she seemed to believe it. Dad did too. It’s like they both think two little coughs are enough to kill me. I can’t remember them looking this way before, not to me. There was a trace of that when they announced we’d be moving here, but that was directed at Danny.

Mum nodded to herself and left my room. I awkwardly climbed into bed. When Dad came in, holding a steaming mug, I was already bored. But the look in his eyes too, that half-hidden fear, it kept me from complaining. I wanted to ask just why they had that look, but then I finally realised. They didn’t want me to see how scared they were. Whatever was making them act like this, they didn’t want me to know about it. I doubt they even realised that their fear was showing.

Which brings me to the question, just how many times have they acted like this before and I haven’t noticed? I can’t remember the last time I was sick. I’ve always thought I just had a strong immune system or something? But maybe they’ve noticed the little coughs and acted before it got worse. Or they’re both paranoid about me getting sick and it’s just a parent thing. Actually, that makes more sense. This is just a paranoid parent thing.