Fake Home Chapter 2

Maybe it was the half hour I'd spent freezing outside. In the middle of the night, I came down with a raging fever.

My whole body ached like I'd been run over by a car.

I curled up on a rusted old folding cot, wrapped in a thin blanket, and gritted my teeth until dawn.

It was the weekend, and the house was unusually lively.

My brother, Tyler Mapes, had just won the city basketball championship, and the whole family was celebrating.

The smell of cooking drifted from the kitchen, the roar of the range hood mixing with my parents' laughter.

By noon, the food was on the table.

Tyler cheered and ran over, while Cassandra snapped a flurry of photos of the spread with her phone.

I braced myself against the wall, fighting off wave after wave of chills, and dragged my heavy feet into the living room for a glass of warm water.

The table was crowded with seafood.

Steamed snow crab, garlic butter scallops, and a heaping pot of spicy Cajun crawfish, glistening red.

I stared at the pot of crawfish, and a chill settled in my stomach.

Everyone in the family knew I was allergic to shellfish. It broke me out in hives every time.

And on top of that, I was running a fever. I couldn't handle anything spicy right now anyway.

My father popped open a bottle of beer, about to pour Tyler a glass, when he turned and spotted me.

His brow furrowed, displeasure written all over his face.

"What's with that face? It's a happy occasion, and you just have to come in here looking like a wet blanket?"

I couldn't help coughing. My throat was so raw I could barely get words out.

"I have a fever. Is there any fever medicine in the house?"

My mother spooned some crab roe into Tyler's bowl, then turned to me and pinched her nose in disgust.

"How do you go and get a fever out of nowhere again? You're always causing some kind of trouble.

"Stay away from the table. Don't go giving your germs to your brother. He has midterms next week."

She pulled a twenty out of her pocket and tossed it onto the coffee table.

"We didn't make anything bland today. Go buy yourself a bowl of noodles downstairs.

"Take a walk outside after you eat, and don't come back until your fever's gone."

I stared at the bill for a couple of seconds.

I didn't pick it up.

I turned and walked straight out the door.

It had started drizzling outside at some point, and the wind cut straight through to the bone.

I hailed a cab alone and went to a community clinic nearby.

My temperature came back at 102.56°F.

As the nurse hooked up my IV, she couldn't help muttering, "Your fever's this high and you're only coming in now? No family with you?"

I shook my head and watched the cold liquid drip steadily into my vein.

My phone buzzed.

It was a message from my boyfriend, Eddie Davis.

[Kitty, what are you up to this weekend?]

I stared at the screen, my eyes stinging, and typed back one-handed: [At the clinic, getting an IV.]

Less than twenty minutes later, the clinic's glass door swung open.

Eddie strode in, still damp from the rain, carrying an insulated food container.

The moment he saw how pale I looked, his brow knit tight, and he hurried over to sit beside me.

"How did you end up with a fever this bad? Where are your parents?"

I leaned against his broad shoulder and closed my eyes.

"They're busy."

Eddie didn't press for more. He just unscrewed the container and poured out a steaming bowl of chicken and rice soup.

He blew on a spoonful to cool it, then carefully brought it to my lips.

Warmth finally spread through my stomach.

My phone screen suddenly lit up. It was a photo Cassandra had posted in the family group chat.

In it, the four of them were gathered around a huge two-tier cake, all smiles.

The message right under it read: [Our happy family weekend!]

I looked at the photo for a moment, then tapped my finger lightly on the screen.

I left the group chat.