Khalíd and Manuel are standing over Eric as he plugs his Atari into the wall. Mary has her back to the coffee table and sectional, her arms folded at Judith.

"I live around here," Judith answers with a questioning tone. "What're you doing here?"

"My friends live here, and I'm on the team, so I gotta practice too." When she doesn't respond, Mary draws her lips between her teeth to discreetly lick them, and she huffs. "So – how long are you gonna be here because we need to focus."

"I didn't realize that I was such a big distraction," she says monotonously. Jerome descends the stairs with his short dreads weighed down by his conditioner and water.

"She's not leaving until Jerome makes her. I think they're a thing," Xavius says from the kitchen. He slams the fridge door shut once he's put the food away, and he returns to the sofa. Jerome stands between Mary and Judith.

"Really?" Mary's voice rises as a smile creeps onto her face. Khalíd and Manuel turn to look at them along with Eric. The sudden attention makes Judy's face glow red, and she catches Jerome's gaze with hers, longing for him to say something. "When did this happen?"

"We're not dating," he says with a calm rolling of his eyes, contrary to what Judith expected. Eric turns his head forward, finishing up what he's doing. "She's just here chilling with me."

"That's a lie," Xavius continues, and Jerome glares at him, Judith gives him pleading eyes, and the others gaze with wonder. "I saw you two dancing in his room to, um, what was it called – ah, Tears on my Pillow! The slowest and saddest song I can think of."

"Aw, how romantic," Mary sarcastically fawns with her brows lowering and her hands against her chest. "I'm so glad you're over David. I told you Jerome is much better arm candy."

"He said we're not dating," she reminds her, her voice a pitch louder. Her heart is pounding like a drum in a marching band, but she doesn't understand why.

"Yeah, well, what do you say?" Judith glances up at Jerome for help, but when the loading screen appears on the television, he walks toward his friends. Mary snickers and sits next to Xavius on the end of the sectional facing the crowd.

"Yes! I finally got it set up," Eric cheers before darting upright. He claps his hands together, turns to them with a smile, then asks, "So, who's first?"

"The amateurs can go first," Mary says while leaning forward so her elbows can rest on her knees. Her hair is in a crimped ponytail that lays across the left shoulder of her floral blouse. "So, Manuel, Khalíd, Eric, Jerome, then me."

"No fucking way are you the best player," Manuel yells, looking her up and down with contempt.

"Wasn't I the one who beat Jerome's score like three times?" Jerome walks toward Judith's bag and sits in her place. She strolls toward him, stepping between the arguing pair.

"Please," Khalíd scoffs. Judith sits to the left of Jerome. "Just because you barely beat his score two or three times doesn't mean you're the grandmaster of Space Jungle."

"Keep doing that shit, acting like you're above us, and I'm done," Manuel says, ending the conversation. They walk toward the couch, but only Khalíd and Manuel can sit, leaving Eric standing at the end looking at the occupied seats.

"Okay, well, Khalíd can go first, then Manny," Eric says before taking Khalíd's seat when he stands up. Khalíd unzips the bag on the coffee table, removing a cube-shaped controller attached to a cord.

He carries it to the Atari, kneels in front of it, then hooks it into the front. They watch him calibrate it, and then when he's finished, a bubbly jingle plays from the television. He sits with his legs crossed and his back slouched.

Once he chooses his character – a lion – and his weapon – a tank – he begins the round with them watching in silence. After a few minutes of evading and shooting asteroids, his right hand's thumb rapidly taps the big red button above the joystick. He's booted out of the game when one as large as a quarter crushes his character.

"For fuck sake!" He tosses the controller at his feet after typing in his initials – KAJ for Khalíd Asad Jafari, stands up straight, then walks toward his friends, and Manuel rises from his seat. He glances at Mary, noticing the smirk teasing her lips. "Don't say shit."

"Can you stop talking to her like that? You're being rude, and for what?" He sits between Eric and Judith, then glares at her when she scolds him.

"Who the fuck are you talking to," he asks, challenging her. Jerome rolls his eyes as the two grow heated, and Mary leans back in the seat with her arms across her chest.

"I'm talking to you," Judith answers loudly. Manuel kneels in front of the screen and lifts the controller in his hands. He sifts through the options listed. "Stop disrespecting her for no reason!"

"Can you two niggahs shut up," Xavius hesitantly asks. He chuckles nervously when they shoot him a black look, slinking into his seat as if the heat of their glares melted him.

"Tell your girl to step off, 'Rome," Khalíd orders him after rolling his eyes off his youngest brother. Manuel stops to watch the scene unfold.

"Jerome doesn't own me, nor does he control me!" Judith's stomach begins to rumble and turns from the Ipecac mixing in her bloodstream.

"Okay, let's just calm down." Eric chuckles and thrusts his palms at them in a stop gesture. "'Rome, please say something. This is technically your house, and I don't wanna overstep as a guest."

"I'm – no. She can handle herself, it seems, but if she needs my help, she can ask for it," Jerome says before crossing his arms and leaning back into his seat, staring through the arch.

"I'm fine," Mary assures her with a nervous chuckle. Her face is flushed with embarrassment at the two bickering on her behalf. Judith opens her mouth to speak to her, her eyes squinting from disbelief. Mary and Khalíd share a glance. "This is why I don't have female friends: too much drama."

Everyone but Judith and Jerome laugh. She jolts to her feet, and they watch her cross Jerome and Eric's legs, stroll around the oak-colored oval table, then speed walk to the bathroom next to the kitchen.

"Back to the game," Khalíd says, taking a deep breath. He nudges his chin upward at Manuel, who turns around at the gesture. "Pick your character."

Judith stands in front of the sink in the small bathroom and sits her trembling hands on the edges. She stares at her face, her dark browns lowering onto the visible pulsations of her heart pounding.

Her body jerks forward with a gag that makes her eyes grow wider. Her tongue and the sides of her mouth salivate as the rumbling sends acid shooting up her throat. Her stomach shoves dark brown fluid out, and it projectiles onto the sink's bowl when she gags once more.

"Are you okay," Jerome asks from the other side of the door. He leans against it with his ear so close that he can hear her incessant retching. "Are you decent?"

"Yeah." She steps aside as he pushes the door open, stepping in and shutting it afterward. He stares at the mess with surprise and confusion, then his expression softens when he sees her damp face. Her shoulders jerk forward as tears pour down her cheeks.

Jerome walks around her, sits on the toilet lid, and motions her closer with his right hand. She staggers toward the tub and sits on the edge, her eyes watery and blurry.

"What's going on," he asks, taking tissue from the dispenser. He hands it to her, and she squeezes it in her fist, her head hung with her quivering lips agape. She sees flashes of her father's face, then her late brother's.

"A lot of things," she vaguely tells him, sniffling back her sadness. Her head begins to ache as if multiple rubber bands were constricting her skin, and he hears her stomach gurgling. "For starters – I, uh, I want to protest – on campus."

"And the thought of it's making you sick," he asks, chuckling dryly. Judith shakes her head no then watches herself pick at the tips of her fingernails. "Then what's going on? Did you eat something bad?"

"I just told you that I wanna protest, and you're stuck on me vomiting?" She scoffs incredulously then rolls her eyes. He draws his brows together.

"Hey, don't do that," he scolds her as she shakes her head. "I can only focus on one thing at a time, so it's not that I don't care. If you're sick, I wanna know so I can help. Also, this is my mom's bathroom which means that if she finds anything out of place, or in this case puke in her drain, she'll give me hell."

"I, uh, have kidney disease," she admits, then takes a shaky breath. She doesn't look at him, so he bends his neck to put his face in front of hers. "I'm sorry, okay? This is hard for me."

"I can imagine so." Jerome repositions his head, his voice soothing her nerves. "When did you find out?"

"After the crash, so – maybe a week or two ago," she uncertainly says, and he nods his head. "They say it's just the beginning as if that's supposed to make me feel better."

She feels a twinge of pain on the left side of her chest, and her eyes grow wide, her hands clutching at her heart. Jerome watches her with a confused gaze that shifts to worry when he sees her face.

"What the hell," his mother yells from the living room. Commotion can be heard from the living room, which they assume is his friends rushing to leave the house with their stuff. They stare at the door. "Xavius, I thought I told you not to let Jerome bring anyone into this house!"

"I tried, but," she cuts him off before he can continue. Jerome stands to his feet, ushering her upright. She grips the back of his top, her vision turning dark.

"But nothing; I don't wanna hear it! Jerome!" He steps out of the bathroom with her under his arm. Everyone's gone and Mary left him small boxes of candy on the coffee table.

Xavius glances at his brother, then at his hands, but her eyes remain locked on them. Her face is red, and he notices her jaw shifting as she grinds her teeth.

"Mom, before you get upset," he begins, and Judith grips him tighter, each breath exiting as a wheeze. "I need to get her to the hospital; she's sick."

"No. Take her home like you were supposed to do, and," she begins, but she's interrupted by the look on Judith's face. Her eyes roll upward, then her cheeks puff with fluid that expels at her feet. Judy leans forward, pulling him to the floor.

***

"I found this in her bag," Jerome tells her doctor with a quarter of Ipecac left in the bottle in his hand. Judith is awake, and her arms are crossed over her gown-covered chest. Though his voice is soft with worry, she's glaring at him at the foot of her bed. "I don't know if it means anything, but it had more in it the last time I saw it."

"Miss. Jefferson, have you been drinking this," Doctor Carver, the tall white man who diagnosed her, asks, but she doesn't answer. When she veers her head to the left, he sighs, then returns his attention to Jerome. "Thank you. I'll check her blood for traces of this, and if it confirms what I already believe, then we'll know how to treat her kidney disease."

"Thank you." He watches him leave the room, and Jerome looks at her when the door clicks shut. He walks toward the left side of her bed so her eyes can meet his. "How long have you been --"

"Why would you give that to him? Matter of fact, why would you go through my stuff," she yells her questions at him, and he quietly stares at her with confusion on his face.

"What do you mean?" He speaks with his hands flailing in front of him, emphasizing her condition. "You passed out in my arms, and I couldn't wake you! Who in their right mind wouldn't? I know you can't be sick all the time and have to have that stuff to vomit. No, you're addicted."

"I'm not addicted to shit," she spats, her lips curling as she fights back vengeful words.

"Judith, don't curse at me, okay?" She rolls her eyes at him. "I only did it because I care about you, and I don't regret it."

"You care about me," she repeats with a humored scoff and a smile on her face. Jerome furrows his eyebrows. "That's rich. We're not even a thing according to you."

"Man, what're you talking about now," he asks, and when she looks at the door, his shoulders drop, and his mouth hangs open. "You're upset at me for telling them you're not my girlfriend?"

"Upset is an understatement. I'm livid." He shut his mouth, and his expression shifts to neutral as he sits in the chair next to her. "I hate uncertainty, okay? I'm not a mind reader, so the least you can do is be real with me instead of making me feel like we're one thing, then telling your friends that we're something else."

"You're unbelievable," he mutters, and her heart skips a beat; her mother told her the same thing during their fight. "I only said that because I thought it was what you wanted."

"So you lied to please me," she asks, narrowing her eyes at him. He draws his lips into a line and shrugs. "David lied to me countless times, so what makes you think I want that again?"

"Don't compare me to him!" He jolts to his feet and bites his lips. She watches his face glow red, and if they were in a cartoon, she knows steam would pour from his ears. "What do you want from me? Just say it so we can – so I can go to this match without you on my mind."

"Wow," she says through incredulous laughs, and he groans while running his hands across his face.

"I didn't mean it like that, Judith," he tries to speak over her, but it's to no avail. "You know what? Forget it. I don't care; you can stay mad. All I do is try to be as gentle with you as possible, afraid of hurting you like he did, but it's like walking on eggshells, and I'm done."

He storms toward the exit, and her heart sinks. He wraps his fingers around the handle, but before he can tug, she says, "Wait."

"What?" Jerome glares at her over his right shoulder, his anger not subsiding despite the sadness evident on her face through her frowning mouth.

"I – I'm sorry," Judith tells him, and he doesn't budge. Her eyes moisten as her figurative storm cloud approaches. "Please – sit, and I'll explain everything."