It was past 6:30 and Peter was still in bed. Darcy had called his phone more than six times. But, he didn't answer.
His bed was covered with used tissues.
He woke up and looked at the clock and realized how late it was but he didn't care.
His throat had a sharp pain in it every time he swallowed. He hit his head back on his pillow and started to cough hard.
His mom had been calling his name all morning so she finally walked to his room.
She entered.
"Peter Michael, why aren't you up already? You're going to be super late" said Mrs. H.
Peter coughed and in a hoarse tone said "Yeah, I'm up. I'm getting ready" then continued to cough some more.
"You look sick. But, I don't know if I'm buying it. Open your mouth, let me see your throat" said Mrs. H uncertain.
Peter opened, and she looked down his throat. It was as red as a tomato.
"Close" she said.
She then felt his head, which was burning.
"I'll be right back. Stay right here".
Mrs. H was still not sure if she should send him or not.
Peter was quite the actor, so she wasn't sure what he was doing.
As she walked away, Peter looked over at his phone.
He saw that he had 5 texts and 7 missed calls. They were all from Darcy.
The last one he read said, "Peter! Answer me. Why aren't you at school already? Get your butt here!"
Peter answered: "I'm really sick. Not playing this time. My throat is so sore that I can barely talk. I'm trying to talk my mom into letting me go back to bed".
He put his phone to the side and put his covers back on himself. He was freezing.
Mrs. H came back with a thermometer.