Page 55 of Vital Blindside

The sun streams in from the slit in the middle of my curtains, and I wince when a headache springs to life in the centre of my forehead. I squeeze my eyes shut and call out, “Cooper!”

I’m not even sure if he’s still home. I don’t have the strength to try to find my phone and check what time it is, so I’m pretty screwed if he’s already off at school.

Shit. Work.

“Cooper!” I shout again and feel a jolt of relief when I hear a set of rushed footsteps slapping the floor in the direction of my room.

A moment later, my bedroom door is pushed open slightly, and Cooper’s head peeks through the crack. His eyes go wide when he sees me sprawled across the bed, dripping sweat and coughing up a lung.

“Are you dying?” he asks, walking toward me.

“Feels like it. But no. Don’t think so.”

“You look like you are. Should I call Mom?”

I shake my head. “No. But you can grab my phone for me, please. What time is it?”

“Almost eight. I was about to leave for school.”

Double shit. Eight means I’m missing Scarlett’s therapy session. My stomach sinks.

He rustles around in my nightstand before placing my phone in the hand I’ve flopped over on the sheets. The screen is way too bright when I lift it over my head and attempt to find her name in my call history.

“Let me help,” Cooper says before taking the phone again. “Who do you want me to call?”

God, he’s such a young man already. Pride hits me like a freight train as I smile at him like a loopy idiot.

His eyebrows pinch when he notices me watching him. “Stop looking at me like that. It’s scaring me.”

I want to laugh but think better of it. Instead, I croak, “Call Scarlett. Tell her I didn’t mean to just not show up and that I’m sorry. Then call Banks and tell him he needs to go to WIT ASAP.”

Brielle would have taken my absence as a sign to get the arena open and ready on her own, but there’s too much that needs to get done for her to do on her own until this afternoon when Banks is supposed to get there.

I watch through watering eyes as Cooper steps out of the room and disappears from view. A raspy breath escapes me before I throw my arm over my eyes and sniffle. This is a nightmare. It’s been years since I’ve gotten sick, and even then, I don’t remember it ever hitting me this hard.

It’s probably from being around so many kids yesterday. Kids are infection-spreading little buggers.

My curiosity sparks, and I begin to wonder how Scarlett is doing. Is she sick too? If she is, who’s taking care of her? I would love to think Amelia is, but something tells me that Scar might fight against that idea.

I must drift off to my thoughts because I wake a few minutes later to Cooper holding a tiny plastic cup of cough syrup to my mouth and urging me to drink it. I do, and after taking a couple of pills out of his hand and taking them too, I drop my head back to my pillow and fall asleep again.

SCARLETT

I double-check the address Cooper sent me and swallow past the nerves in my throat. The house in front of me is everything I thought it would be.

Tall peaks, large windows, and grass as green as it is in commercials. There’s life spilling from every chip in the sidewalk and a ball-sized dent in the garage door. The porch is small but in perfect condition. Actually, the entire house is in perfect condition. It’s well cared for, well-maintained.

A hockey net is tucked beside the back gate, between his house and the fence that separates Adam’s yard from his neighbours. There aren’t any flowers or shrubs, but there’s no need for them. The house is warm and welcoming as it is.

The deep-blue-coloured front door opens, and Cooper waves at me anxiously. I lock the doors of Mom’s car before tucking the keys away and jogging up the sidewalk.

“Hi, SP,” he says, grabbing my hand and guiding me inside. “Dad’s in his room. I gave him the medicine you told me to, and he fell right asleep.”

“Good.” I nod before pausing, looking at him curiously. “SP?”

“Yeah, it’s short for Scary Spice.”

“Wouldn’t it be SS, then?”

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