A thousand reads! Thank you! So so much!

*unedited*

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“So, who are you going to the museum with?”

I turn to Rick, stretching. My phone sits beside me on the bed side table and I can’t help but look at it.

“You remember that?”

He looks offended—as if doubting his is the most serious offence ever committed. “Of course I do. I’m not dumb.”

I ruffle his hair, getting off the bed. I’m thankful that I’d slept in long pants because otherwise I’d be frozen right now. Last night had been the coldest night of the month. I don’t know the temperature but I’m just glad I’d been warm enough. Having Rick cuddling up to me had helped—the extra warmth something only a person could give.

I smile at him. “I know you’re not dumb. You’re the smartest in your grade.”

He runs his hand through his bed hair, yawning. “I am, aren’t I? So who’re you going to museum with?”

“You’ve asked that already.”

He glares at me. “And you didn’t tell me.”

“Someone.”

“Is he the reason you keep looking at your phone?” he asks, eyes sparkling with knowledge that a ten-year-old should have.

“No,” I lie.

He sees right through it. “You are. I’ll tell mum and dad.”

I smile sadly, staring at him. He still had child-like innocence that I didn’t have at that age. It had been killed. “Fine. Yes.”

He smiles, like he’s won a prize. “So it is a guy?”

I roll my eyes, rubbing sleep out of my eye. “You’re too perceptive for your own good.”

He frowns. “What does that mean?”

“Don’t worry. It just means you’re too smart.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he glares. “It better. Matt says his sister makes him look stupid because she lies to him about what words mean.”

I laugh. “It’s the truth. I promise.”

He frowns, not convinced. “Okay . . .”

With a smile, I sit down next to him, throwing my arm over his shoulders. He doesn’t complain when I pull him against me. “When did you get in here last night?”

He shrugs, resting his head on my shoulder. I ruffle his brown hair, way too long than it should be. He refuses to cut it though, since apparently, it’s “in style.” “I don’t know.”

“Did you have a nightmare?”

His silence gives me my answer. With a sigh I pull him closer, kissing his hair. “You wanna talk about it?”

He doesn’t say anything and I wait. He’ll talk eventually.

Finally, he speaks. “I had a nightmare.”

“What about?” I ask carefully.

“You. I woke up and Aunt Amie said that you were gone. And I called the hospital . . . but you wouldn’t talk. You weren’t there.”

I wipe the tear away before he can see it. “It was just a dream. That’s it.”

For now, I think, dreading the day. I shake away the thoughts.

“I was scared,” he admits, his voice tiny. “I didn’t tell dad because he doesn’t get scared. So I shouldn’t.”

Kissing his hair, I whisper, “It’s okay to be scared. Dad gets scared sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh.”

Silence takes over and I just hold him.

*             *             *

Eventually, my phones beeps. I hesitate at jumping straight for it, conscious of Rick.

“Is it him?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

I shake my head. “No! He’s just a friend. And I’ve only known him for two days.”

“People in my grade have boyfriends.”

“Those relationships don’t count. You’ll see one day.” Not that I can talk. My track record is as dismal as they come. Never been kissed. Never kissed. Not one boyfriend. Add cancer to that list. Yeah, not a good track record at all. I don’t know the first thing about a serious relationship.

My phone beeps again and Rick sighs. “Answer it.”

“Yes sir,” I quip as I grab the phone.

He frowns. “Huh?”

I shake my head. “You’ll get it when you’re older.”

I grab the phone, checking the messages. James’ number flashes on the screen and I have to smile.

Opening the texts, I read them, my eyes moving so fast I barely understand the words.

I’ve worked out times. How does next weekend work for you? Someone would have to drive us because I don’t think you can go on a train. Mum offered but if it’s not okay with you my brother can take us.

I read the other one, wondering why there’s two.

               My brother agreed. Whoever you’d rather go with just tell me.

I type back, aware of Rick’s eyes on me.

Sure! I’ll have to check with my parents and see what I have next weekend. I should be free. And I don’t care who drives us.

“Does mum know you’re going with him?”

I sigh. “No. That’ll be the hard part.” Especially considering I’d been in a coma a few days ago. I won’t be able to go anywhere any time soon.

*             *             *

There’s yelling when I walk into the kitchen, mum angrier than I’ve ever seen her before. She paces the kitchen—more of a stomp than anything.

“That’s all you can say? Are you kidding me? My daughter was in a damn coma!”

I look at dad, leaning against the kitchen wall looking on worriedly. “What’s going on?” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. She answered the phone, and then . . .” he points at Mum, “. . . this started.”

“Who’s on the other end?”

“I don’t know that either.”

“She almost died and that’s all you have to say for yourself? I could sue you!”

Sue?

“You’ll be lucky if your school is still running when I’m done with you!”

I blink in surprise. Mums one of the gentlest people to exist. She doesn’t yell. She doesn’t threaten. I can’t help but feel bad for the person on the other end.

“Screw your job! You won’t have it for much longer!”

“Dad,” I whisper, knowing he’s the only one that can get through to her at this point. “Do something. She’s about to trample the floor. There won’t be any left.”

“You think I haven’t tried that? Trust me, I have.”

I shake my head in frustration. “Try again.”

He sighs. “Fine. It won’t work though.” Focusing his attention on mum, he says, “Anna. Calm down.”

She completely ignores him—it’s like she can’t even hear him.

“You really don’t want that to happen, trust me. I’ll break the pedestal you sit on before you can blink,” mum snaps.

“Dad.”

He shakes his head. “Won’t work sweetheart.”

I sigh and with no other choice, watch the train wreck crashing in front of me.

“Unprofessional? I didn’t kill someone’s daughter!”

There’s a pause on the other end.

“Fine. You want a meeting? I’ll give you a fucking meeting,” mum snaps, before throwing the phone at the wall. It smashes to pieces but I ignore it.

Hearing her swear catches me off guard but I focus quickly.

Squeezing her hands into fists, she turns, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Guess what?” she asks evenly—though I can hear the barely contained rage in her voice. “We have a meeting with the principal.”

It dawns on me then, and I feel like an idiot. She was talking to the principal about me. About the incident that had caused my coma—and almost death.

A meeting. With the principal. Yeah, that won’t end well. At all.

Guess now isn’t a good time to ask about the museum, I think ruefully, shaking my head.

With a sigh I grab my phone out of my pocket.

               May have to raincheck. Something came up. I’ll keep you updated.

Then I hit send.

Paranoid, I type another message.

               I’m not blowing you off, I swear! I still want to go.

Now, the odds of being able to go just got worse. Great, I think, just great.

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~ Littlemissflawed