Page 57 of SEAL'S Baby Surprise
“They are cute,” I say. “Maybe we should make a garbage dump kind of feeding station away from the residences. Give them a good reason to be somewhere else.”
“That might could work,” Pops says, scratching at his scraggly chin whiskers. “Just might could. Too bad it won’t work for human varmints. You look sharp, hear? I don’t see your big dog with you.”
“Left him to guard the girls,” I say. “I ruined the guy’s film. He isn’t going to be happy with me.”
“Heh, heh, heh,” Pops laughs, the sound like matches on sandpaper. “Serves him right, pesterin’ decent folk. I’ll keep an eye out, don’t you worry.”
“Thanks, Pops,” I say. And I mean it. Ark is a good watchdog, but he’s got a limited understanding of humans. With Pops adding a human element, the girls should be fine.
26
LEE
The next dayafter the crash, I don’t feel so great. My scrapes are scabbing over, pulling the skin tight. My bruises are bright purple, and I feel queasy and dizzy when I stand up.
Austin wants me to go to the doctor, but if I do that, they will want identification. I can’t. I just can’t.
Austin makes oatmeal for breakfast. He loads it up with raisins, cinnamon, and nuts. He’s gone to a lot of trouble, and I don’t want him to feel bad about getting bicycles for all of us. It isn’t his fault that stupid newsie was hiding in the bushes.
I try to force the stuff down, even though just the scent of the cinnamon rising off the bowl is making me want to hurl.
Normally, I love cinnamon. I mean, like, bring it on, the more the better. But not today. I just manage to put the bowl aside and run to the garbage pail before it all comes back. I think, maybe, it even includes lunch yesterday and my toenails.
Austin is with me in an instant, his arm around my shoulders, steadying me. I lean into his strength, trying not to heave again.
Oh, wow! Oh, no! Here I go again . . . not much left to come up this time. Maybe a toenail or two…talk about vomiting your guts up!
I lean into Austin. It’s the only way I’m able to stand up. He scoops me up in his arms, walks over and settles me in my chair.
He gently wipes my face and hands with a damp cloth. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the doctor?” he asks.
I shake my head, and then wish I had not. “It’s just being upset,” I say, willing it to be true. “I’ll be fine. I just need some rest.”
“Your bed or mine?” he asks.
“Mine,” I say. “I can get off it easier…just in case.”
“Good point,” he says. “I’ll put a clean bucket in here. You want some ginger ale?”
Right then, I don’t want anything except for the world to stop spinning. But I know that I need something in my stomach, or it will start rebelling just because it hasn’t been fed.
“Sure,” I say. “With ice cubes?” I add hopefully.
“Just got the ice a little bit ago,” he says. “I’ll put it in a thermal cup with a straw so it will all stay cold.”
“Thanks,” I say. I try standing up. The world spins around, but I try not to let on. If I’m not careful, Austin will hover all day. I really, really just want to lie down.
Austin steadies me without saying anything, and he doesn’t try to scoop me up. I wobble my way into the van and nestle into my narrow bed. “Audio book or music?” Austin asks.
“Book,” I say. “Documentary.”
I’m listening to a narrative about the origins of Egypt. The content is dry as the Sahara, but the reader has a lovely, baritone voice that will curl your toes just to listen to him.
His recitation of the ages of the pharaohs is like hearing Tom Lehrer sing the periodic table — only better.
After a while, I hear Mrs. Hubbard’s voice, then Mrs. Turner’s. Mrs. Turner slips in, sticks a thermometer paper on my forehead, and takes my pulse. She shines a light in each eye. “Lee,” she says, “I don’t want to be an alarmist, but when was your last period?”
“Don’ know, don’ care,” I mumble into the pillow. “Jus’ wan’ die.”
