I awoke to the sound of rough coughing. Wiggling to extricate myself from the cocoon of blankets, I flicked on the light. There was Johnny, sitting upright beside me, unable to end a violent coughing fit. When his enormous black eyes registered me, they filled with such sincere remorse that I would've laughed if I hadn't been so concerned. For a while I just sat there beside him, rubbing his back. However, when a few minutes had passed, and he was still hacking his lungs out, I scrambled out of bed.
When I made my way to the kitchen, I filled up a tall glass with water, and returned to the room Johnny and I shared. Johnny was still fighting to stop coughing, but now my mom was standing next to our bunk bed, decked out in her old lady nightgown, talking to Johnny in a low, soothing tone. I handed Johnny the water and he managed a soft, grateful "Thanks" before eagerly gulping it all in about six seconds. Mom looked at him. "Johnny, I don't think you're going to school tomorrow." She said gently, before feeling his forehead. "You don't have a fever now, but it's likely that you'll run one soon. Anyway, I don't like the sound of that cough." My mom seems to think she's a doctor sometimes. It cracks us all up, but she actually isn't the worst person to have around when you're sick. Johnny looked at her, seemingly embarrassed. "I'm so sorry I woke you up." Then he turned to me. "I'm so sorry, honey." He seemed like he was about to cry. I just hugged him, refusing to take his apologies the least bit seriously. Although my mom loved him almost as much as she loved me, and logically, she probably should more (Johnny treats her a million times better than I do,) he couldn't seem to shake the feeling that he was some kind of burden to us.
Mom just beamed at him, and gave him a laugh to let him know that she, too, found his apologies worthless. "Johnny, don't ever say you're sorry for being sick. Now try to get some sleep. You'll get better sooner." With that, she patted his arm, then returned to her room across the hall. Johnny gazed at me again, but before he could say anything, I held his lips together with my thumb and index finger. "It's fine. Now are you going to be stupid and give me some apology you know I won't listen to anyway?"
He shook his head resignedly, so I released his lips, right in time for him to begin coughing again. When he was finished he started to say, "I'm really s-" but the look I gave him must have been so threatening he quickly finished with "sleepy." I kissed his cheek. "I know, sweetie. Just try to relax and go to sleep. I'll be right here." Then he grinned at me, and the shock of his paper-white teeth against his tan skin caused me to feel like I was melting. Even though we had been dating for more than two years, and he had lived with my family and I for many more, Johnny still made me feel like that. "I love you, Olivet." He was still smiling at me. "I love you so much." I beamed back at him and said, "I love you too, Johnny." I really did. After that he curled up with his arms wrapped around me, clutching me tightly like a little kid with a teddy bear. Soon enough his breathing was slow and heavy. I closed my eyes, hoping I'd be tired enough to fall back asleep easily.
There was going to be a quiz tomorrow in Math that I needed to do well on, because I was in danger of getting a B, which would mess up my perfect 4.0 GPA. Not that I'm uptight or anything. I just spend a large quantity of my time worrying about schoolwork and what I need to do to continue getting my straight A's. Everyone in the gang thought I stressed too much about my grades, especially Johnny and Soda, the latter being the greaser closest to me after Johnny. Even Ponyboy, who got the same kind of grades I did, thought I worried too much. Whatever. I wasn't as bad as Darry.
Johnny was always really proud of me for bringing home the report cards I did, but I knew that no matter what kind of grades I brought home, he would still love me more than anything in the universe. As much as I loved him.