I don’t remember making it back to my bed, but I woke up fully clothed with my face smashed into my pillow, just on the verge of drowning in the lake that was my snot and drool. Very appealing, I must say. Oh yeah, and my phone was ringing.

I gave myself a good heave-ho and rolled off the bed. Instead of catching myself, as per normal, I landed in a heap with a thunk. Déjà vu anyone? This time, however, I was able to avoid knocking myself out, though I did come very close to a rogue track racing spike chillaxing upside down. I collapsed onto my side with exhaustion. Freak. At least I hadn’t landed on the mess from last night.

Okay, first things first… I needed to find my tissue box and befriend it. Two, I needed to figure out what the heck day it was. And three, I needed to figure out how to move. All of which seemed impossible at the moment but hopes were high that morning for this girl.

And yet the phone was still ringing. I reached out a desperate hand, feeling around on the carpet for the familiar shape. It sounded close. There! I snagged it, its cool surface a welcome to my burning skin. I dragged my arm back and put the phone to the side of my face not pressed into the carpet.

I let out a croaky, “Hello?”

“Sawyer? Girl, you sound terrible! Are you okay?”

My brain tried to catch up with what I was hearing. If my assumptions were right, it was one of my best friends.

“Sarah?”

“Yeah.” She sounded surprised and wary. “Is everything okay?” I heard keys jangling through the phone. She and Jordan, my other best friend, shared an apartment. They were polar opposites of each other but somehow they got along famously. Sarah was all pastel yellows and pinks and Jordan was bold blacks and reds all the way. Sarah was pale, tall, thin and liked to wear flowery dresses, while Jordan was of average height with dark skin, but a complete powerhouse of a sprinter and wore only sports attire. And somehow I was a weird middle piece of old t-shirts, tan skin, messy hair, and flannel shirts. Peace, yo.

“Um, yeah. I guess? I’m just feeling like crap today. I think I caught some kind of bug.” More like a friggin’ elephant.

“Oh no! Do you want me to come over? I could make you some of that vegetable soup you love.” I could practically see her long yellow-blonde hair swish as she was halfway out her apartment door.

“No, no. It’s... fine. I’m fine.” Goodness, gracious, my head still felt like it was about to explode.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, Sarah. Thanks though.”

“Okay,” she replied, skeptical and hesitant. I managed a small smile. She continued, “Well, we have some big tests today and yours are with the Three Diablos. It’s still 7 a.m. but they’re not until ten. So make sure you’re ready in time. I was actually just calling to see if you wanted to get together and do some last-minute studying in the library, but from the sounds of it, you could do with a nap.”

My mind stuttered through this new information. Oh, yeah. End of semester final exams. Those were happening.

“Heh, yeah,” I answered calmly. “How could I forget those tests? I guess I’ll see you there.”

“Do you want me to pick you up? It wouldn’t be any trouble. I’m already heading out the door.”

“No, no. That’s like an extra twenty minutes for you to drive. I’ll be fine. I’ll be right as rain in a couple hours after a little napperoo.” Napperoo? Seriously, this sickness was a doozy.

“Okay, then,” she said clearly unsure, but not going to fight me on it. “Well, I’ll see you soon! And don’t be late.”

“You know me. I’m never late.” I smirked, well, as much as I could with my face smashed into the carpet.

“Yeah. Right. More like precisely when you mean to be or whatever that wizard quote is that you use all the time.”

“It’s Lord of the Rings, and I’m disappointed you don’t even know Gandalf’s name.” I blinked the stars from my eyes. “I’ll see you in a few.” I hung up.

I did not see Sarah in a few.

I must’ve passed out again, ‘cause light was streaming in through my window. Groaning, I squinted around the room, spotting my watch lying next to my track practice clothes, just a foot away. It held the answers to all my questions.

Now, you may wonder why I didn’t just grab the phone that was still lying on my face. My answer? Never question the actions of a sick person. They don’t even know what they’re doing.

With a lot of grunting, I managed to drag my body across the floor. Goodness gracious. It was probably the hardest thing I’d ever done. And I’d been through some horrendous practice workouts. My limbs were like tree trunks, and just about as immovable.

After minutes of struggling, I finally reached my watch, coming to the decision that this sickness was a major douche-canoe. It was ruining my morning and I didn’t appreciate it.

I froze, my eyeballs bugging out.

“Shit!” I belted out, throwing me into a coughing fit. Full panic mode set in as I shot up into a sitting position, adrenaline fueling me with an untethered amount of power.

It was Thursday.

It was 4:30 pm.

And it was Thursday.

Not. Freaking. Good.

None of my professors would give a crap if I was sick. All they cared about were results and I had just missed the biggest exams of the semester. They were literally the only way to pass the classes. Say adios to my good grades.

But no. I could not. Give. Them. Up.

I lurched to my feet, grabbed my keys, and swung on my still-zipped backpack, not having bothered to empty it the night before. Thank goodness today was an on-your-own day for indoor track practice. If I missed an official practice, I’d really be in for it. Not to mention the concussion. Should probs go talk to the trainers about that one.

My vision went a little wonky as I stumbled down the hallway, stars and specs winking in and out of focus. I suppressed a shiver and headed for the door. Maybe it was my concussion, maybe it was me being sick. Who knows? Certainly not me! Thankfully by the time I got out the door, the cold air cleared up the dizziness.

To my knowledge, vision is key to bike safety, but I still made a beeline for the bike rack and fumbled with the lock. The letters looked more like squiggles, but I managed it. Thank you, muscle memory.

I got on my bike, wiped my nose with my sleeve, prayed, and let out a cough that could wake the nation. What were the odds that I could get to campus before all the professors left at 5 pm? Mmmmm... not likely, but was I gonna try my gosh darn hardest! You bet your bottom dollar! Or penny, whatever you’ve got. I won’t judge.

I could tell this probably wasn’t the best idea about two pedal rotations down the road. I had questionable vision, an airway half blocked by phlegm, and what felt like a fever to top it all off.

Only plus?

It was literally all downhill from here. Yay me. *three thumbs up*

.                                                     .

Well, turns out that one cannot bike two miles in twenty minutes while sick and expect to make it anywhere on time. When I finally did struggle onto campus, it was quiet and security had already locked all the doors to the buildings so I couldn’t even go in and leave a note of apology. It was probably a good thing everyone skedaddled ‘cause they would’ve run away screaming if they heard my hacking, phlegm-filled lungs heaving me into the parking lot.

I did peek through the doors to see if anyone was around to let me in. But other than a few muffled voices and moving shadows through a distant doorway, no one was close enough to hear my pounding.

That bike ride back, though. Hoo. I almost died like three times. Though according to my fuzzy memory, it was entirely that black sedan’s fault. Mr. Fancypants needed to get his license checked.

What I did remember clearly was walking, if you could call it that, back into the apartment. I briefly checked my phone to see if there was anything important. There were a few unread messages and a bunch of emails, but I didn’t have the energy to care. Heck, I didn’t even bother with the light switch, despite it being dark outside. I simply flopped onto my bed with eyes near closed before I even hit the covers. Touchdown!

.                                                     .

I blinked my eyes open. It was still dark, but my head felt a little clearer. My fever had possibly exited stage left. But wait, we haven’t had Act II yet.

That ever existent drool pool was there of course, but my nose had at least slowed down with its leaking. I attempted to shift a bit, but my limbs were too busy being cement blocks. My mind began drifting off again as I vaguely heard some noises in the kitchen. In my groggy state, I guessed that Kyle must’ve just got back. Either that or we were getting robbed. If so, they could have it all. The most valuable thing I got was an unopened box of vanilla wafers.

My mind became more muddled as sleep dragged me further down to its murky depths. The sounds of someone moving around kept getting closer. It was odd. It almost seemed like they were in my room. There’s no way it was Kyle, he’d never been in my room. Even when I offered to host a get-to-know-you movie night back when I first got here, he flat out refused to step foot in my room, so we were forced to sit on the kitchen floor ‘cause the living room was full of all his crap.

I was jolted awake by a heavy bag-like object landing on top of me, knocking what little air I had right out of my lungs. I flailed, shoving the bag off the bed and once I could suck in some air, started yelling or screeching, depending on your interpretation.

And then the potential robber started yelling too. Pretty soon we were both just yelling. I bolted up, which was a bad idea because the dizziness knocked me right back down. What had been in that bag? A bunch of hammers?

I heard the intruder’s hand smacking the wall hopefully in search of the light switch. Turns out he was because the room flooded with light in an instant, and, once my temporary blindness went away, I realized something was very wrong.

“What the hell are you doing in my bed?!” It was Kyle. And he did not sound happy. Actually what he sounded like was pissed off, and if he’d had a hammer in his hands and not in that bag of his, I would’ve had a hole in my head by now.

I inched upright and tried to let out a nervous laugh, but it caught on some phlegm so it turned into a coughing fit.

“Sawyer, what the hell are you doing in my room? Why are you in my bed?” he demanded. He was super mad.

Woo hoo hooo. I would have started laughing if I hadn’t bruised my ribs just about coughed my lungs out.

“Look, Kyle,” I held up my hands out in a calming gesture, but he simply stood there with his arms crossed, murder clearly etched on his clean features. I didn’t know he could look so deadly. Now, I knew we weren’t the greatest of friends, but he seemed way madder than necessary. “I’m really sorry for this,” I said hoarsely. “and, honestly, I have no idea how I got here so it’s not like I can even give you an explanation.” My nerves kicked in. “Did you know that your bed is super comfy? Well of course you do, you sleep in it every night, it almost feels like you’re floating. It’s so soft, oh, but maybe you’re the type of guy that’s too hard core for beds and just sleeps on the floor, I’m actually quite the fan of the floor myself, especially if it has carpet on it, though hardwood isn’t so—”

“Sawyer!”

I flinched at the sudden loudness and peered nervously at him from my half-closed, watery eyes.

His tone softened a touch. “I know you’ve been sick, but you can’t be in my room. And you definitely can’t be on my bed.”

I lowered my head and muffled a few sad, wet coughs.

“Sorry Kyle. I just—I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” I slid to the floor and took a few shaky steps towards the door, but didn’t make it any further before my legs gave out on me and I tumbled to the ground. Lucky for me Kyle caught this sad sack of potatoes before it could hit the floor.

I pushed away from him after regaining my footing, the situation pissing me off. “Dude, I’m fine. I can get to my own bed.” I left the room without even a good night. He didn’t deserve one.

The only reason I made it to my room was because the walls were gracious enough to let me lean on them. I'd have to pay them back later. Maybe they'd like a good scrubbing. Lord knows they needed it.