Jacob Wilder didn't come to school today. Mama's worried that I made him sick for real, yesterday. She says she doesn't know what that would mean for us. I didn't tell her that I said, "Curse Jacob Wilder," in my head and in this journal. She doesn't need the extra worry. Mama made me eat too much salt again just in case I needed to offer some kind of spiritual recompense for him to get better.

I vomited again. 

My chest feels funny, like I ran too fast, and someone is sitting on top of me.