“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” she promised. “Do you think you can make it back home now?”
“I think so.” I did feel a little better after throwing up. We both got back in the car, and I ended up falling against her, which is where I stayed until I got home. I made it to the bathroom just in time to start vomiting again. I’d had food poisoning once after eating clams at the Red Lobster near the mall. All in all, I think I might have preferred to go through that again.
Not only did I feel awful, but my head seemed to just flop around on top of my neck, and the dizziness wouldn’t stop. I felt like I had gone on a merry-go-round at top speed for ten minutes, only the dizziness didn’t seem to be getting any better. If anything, it was getting worse.
Mayra knelt beside me and pushed my hair off my forehead. I couldn’t stop throwing up long enough to thank her. Once I completely purged everything out of my body, I tried to collapse on the floor beside the toilet. Mayra wouldn’t let me though. She hauled me back up by one arm and dragged me to my bed.
Lying down made the spinning worse, but at least it was more comfortable. I also didn’t think I had anything left to vomit. Mayra crawled in beside me, and I nudged my face against her shoulder and brought my finger up to—finally—poke the fish.
“I don’t feel good,” I told her for the twentieth time.
“I know, baby.”
“I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”
“I know.”
“Why do people drink that stuff if it makes you feel like this?”
“I don’t know, Matthew,” Mayra said. “Just close your eyes and try to go to sleep.”
“I don’t like this.”
“I know. Hush.”
“Everything is spinning around,” I told her. “It won’t stop. Will it ever stop?”
“It will stop,” she promised. “Just go to sleep, and when you wake up, you’ll feel like shit in a whole new way.”
I couldn’t really fathom that it could get worse, so I closed my eyes and passed out.
Lose.
Chapter 17—Cookies Aren’t the Only Things That Start with “C”
Even before I opened my eyes and saw the dark of night outside my window, I knew I hadn’t slept long. For one, my head was still spinning about as much as it had been, and my tongue felt gross. From the hallway just outside my room, I could hear Mayra’s soft voice.
“…he had no idea,” she was saying. “No one is confessing to giving it to him, anyway… I couldn’t leave him by himself…he was such a mess…yes—the whole gamut…no, I did not…not a drop, I swear…”
I didn’t hear any other voices and figured Mayra was talking on the phone. I wanted to get up and brush my teeth, but I was afraid if I moved my head at all, it just might fall off and roll across the floor. It occurred to me that it might pop off even if I didn’t move, and I had a random thought about dying with unbrushed teeth. I tried to roll over and groaned.
“Oh, I think he’s awake. I should go…oh, yeah—good idea…”
Through blurred vision, I saw her standing in the doorway to my room with her cell phone in her hand.
“I didn’t want you to worry…in the morning, but don’t expect it to be early…you too, Dad…bye.”
I closed my eyes again, not daring to keep them open in case it made my head worse. I felt Mayra sit down on the bed next to me, and I reached out to her.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“You don’t have to be sorry.”
“Are you in trouble with Henry?” I asked.
“No,” Mayra sighed. “He’s probably calling the cops to head out to break up any party that is left over, but he didn’t sound like he was mad at either of us. He won’t be too happy if he finds out who gave you spiked punch, but I don’t think he’s going to blame you.”
“I was thirsty,” I said. “I didn’t know what was in it. I thought it was just—”