says, closing his laptop. “He texted me about it earlier.” I hand him the folder and he immediately opens it, ripping off the tape, then squeezing the small metal prong.
I stand there watching as he pulls a small stack of papers from the inside and flips through them.
“Great,” he says. “That’s everything.”
“Good. He said to tell you that he’d be back as soon as possible.”
A pinch forms in Satchi’s brow as he looks from me to the envelope. “Have you opened this?" he says.
“No sir,” I answer quickly as my blood runs cold.
“You’re in my engineering class this semester, aren’t you?” He eyes me curiously. I begin to feel lightheaded as a pressure builds in my stomach. “I take it you haven’t been receiving any extra help from your wonderful boyfriend have you?”
“No, I haven’t sir,” I say, clearing my throat. “Jordan takes his job very seriously. He wouldn’t give me any extra help even if I asked.” I chuckle, trying to downplay the tension.
“Good. This is next week’s lecture I had him reviewing for me. I was worried at first, hiring him as my assistant.” I try to smile as I listen but the pressure in my stomach is building. I swallow hard, trying to clear the knot in my throat. “Not exactly because of him specifically, but because he’s a senior. It seems that he has a handle on this subject, though. He’s really good.”
“I’ve known Jordan all my life,” I say, rubbing my sweaty palms together. “He’s always looked up to you and the work you’ve done at Crill. Like I said, he takes his job very seriously and he enjoys learning from you.”
Satchi rolls his lips into his mouth, pressing them into a hard line as he nods. We go silent and I take it as a good moment to grab Jordan's laptop and leave. The second I turn away, my head spins and my stomach lurches.
“Have a good day, Miss Teller,” Satchi says. But I can’t answer. My mouth waters and an uncomfortable heat rolls through my body. I sway and a frown appears on his face as I run over to his trashcan, drop to my knees, and begin vomiting.
18
XIA
Loud blaring comes from my nightstand. I don’t want to get up. This damn virus has knocked me on my ass for the last three days. I need to shut off my alarm clock. When I first came back home I set it to wake me every morning at nine thirty for my Monday, Wednesday, Friday course with Satchi, and for the last three days it’s gone off on cue. Instead of deprogramming the alarm, I just slap it silent until it bothers me the next time. Stupid, I know. Unable to take it anymore, I reach my arm out of my cocoon and smack the top of my clock radio, silencing the thing before I bury myself back under my covers.
Settling back in the darkness, I close my eyes, but then I notice something’s different. My head isn’t hurting anymore. I freeze, afraid to move, as if moving again will remind my body that it has been trying to kill me this week. Quieting myself, I do an inner scan of how I’m feeling. Headache, gone. Chills, gone. Queasiness, less. I actually feel like I could get up without dying.
Cautiously, I pull the covers down and peek out at the room. My eyes fall on the bowl of soup and bouquet of flowers that Jordan placed on my nightstand. He’s been over here a lot, even before he was totally well. I begged him to stay away, telling him he needed the rest too, but he didn’t care. The second he learned I was sick he jumped in his car and came over. The first night he slept here, and we took turns retching our guts out in the bathroom. By the second night, I thought I’d convinced him to go home. He was starting to feel better and I didn't want to re-infect him. But he stayed anyway, got up this morning, and went home to shower before class.
The sound of footsteps walking down the hall captures my attention, I look over to my door wondering if Jordan came back. Sliding my feet from the bed, I stand on wobbly legs and move to the doorway. Just as I open it, I see my mother’s form disappearing back into her room. My heart sinks as I hear the familiar click of her lock.