Jeffrey clutched his stomach, barely restraining himself from letting out a groan. He was feverish he knew, or at least he thought he was. Maybe he wasn't. Really he was in such a groggy state he couldn't tell. His mouth was dry and tasted acidic, and his throat felt constantly on the verge of seizing and heaving up all the contents in stomach. He clutched fiercely at the strap of his backpack, his teeth gritted. He forced his eyes to focus, and he did his best to shove down even the thought of puking.
The train, it came down the line with a thundering impressive entrance. The whole platform vibrated and shook under the rumble of its engine and it's endless line of swaying cars. In Jeffrey's I'll state it felt like the whole world was swinging back and forth, and he was a little thrown off. Was double vision how he normally saw things? He really couldn't remember. Suddenly he was on board the train and sitting down, but he couldn't remember how he got on there either. All he could notice was how painfully shrill the squeal of the train's wheels setting in motion were, or how the train's horn bellowed out with sonorous low boom that he could feel rattle through his chest.
Jeffrey could feel himself slipping off into a comatose-like sleep. He shook himself twice, but that upset his stomach more, and so when the third bout of zoning off engulfed him, Jeffrey succumbed to the pressure and slumped off.
...
Skye wrinkled her nose thoughtfully as she ran her eyes over her notes again. That last calculation didn't make sense, which meant the entire beginning and middle was wrong, or the professor hadn't finished it correctly. She was inclined more towards the latter, since she had written the first part of it.
Skye was so engrossed, that the feeling of the train coming to a halt and the sound of its destination blaring through the speakers, startled her. She quickly shoved her notebook and pen in her backpack, and made to leave her car. She paused at the sight of the young man with rumpled brown hair still sleeping in his seat. This was the train's final stop; so, he had to get up now.
Skye hesitated. The conductor would take care of him, she told herself. Another part of her head-it sounded a lot like her sister, Rosalind- told her it was her responsibility towards another human to wake him up. Skye grumbled to herself, but went over to the boy and shook him gently.
"Hey, Hey. You might want to wake up."
The boy opened a pair of red-rimmed eyes, and stared up at her in bleary confusion. He looked terrible, and Skye was just wondering to herself if the poor guy was sick when he promptly keeled over and threw up on her shoes.
Yup, definitely sick then.
...
"You, Stranger, owe me a huge one." The strange blonde girl grumbled, slinging Jeffrey's backpack over her own shoulder and grabbing his arm as he almost toppled over, "C'mon. Let's get you home, where do you live?"
"Mmghblugdv." Jeffrey attempted.
"I swear, you should consider wearing a 'if lost return to:' tag. Let's go, give up your address."
"Roxbury." He said a little more clearly, grimacing at how disgusting his mouth tasted, "Akron street. You don't need to help, I can get there."
"No offense, but you're walking around like a zombie, and with half the grace of one too. Also you slept through your train stop, you got money for a taxi?"
Groggily, he dug around trying to find his wallet. Finally finding it in his back pocket he pulled it out and opened it. And stared at, squinting fiercely. For two minutes. The stranger sighed and took the wallet from him.
"Jeffrey Tifton, 'ey?" She read his license and then counted his money, and double-taked, "Why the heck do you have two hundred in cash? The bank-robbing business that good?"
"I threw up on your shoes."
"And you should be grateful that they're freakin' old, and that I'm used to such treatment." With that ambiguous statement, the girl stuck two fingers in her mouth, gave a shrill, sharp, peircing, whistle, and waved a taxi over.
"How'd you do that? That was amazing. Really loud and painful, but amazing." Jeffrey clutched his head.
"I learned it from my sister's boyfriend's older brother." She ushered him into the taxi, "C'mon let's go."
"Roxbury, Akron street." She told the cabbie.
"Why are you doing this?" Jeffrey was leaning over holding his head, "This seems a little above common human courtesy."
"No idea." The girl was scanning her notes again, " I guess I just feel sorry for you, and my sisters would kill me if I left someone in a state half as bad your's."
"I feel like I'm gonna puke."
"Hey, not in the taxi!" The cabbie called back.
The blonde dumped everything out of Jeffrey's backpack and handed it to him.
"There you go. I'd recommend trying to avoid using it." She told him, "Relax, focus on something you like. Like music."
"I'd like to avoid talking, so no vomit comes out." Jeffrey gritted his teeth.
"Good by me." The girl reached into her bag, and then tossed Jeffrey a stick of gum, "That'll take out the gross taste."
Jeffrey took it and stuck it in his mouth, and chewed slowly. He peered at his companion as if completely seeing her for the first time. She was really pretty, easily the prettiest girl he had ever seen, and she looked like she didn't care a bit that she was. Her brow was in a perpetual state of creased thought, or maybe that was just her frowning at her notepad. She looked intriguing.
"How'd you know I like music?"
"Jew's harp, harmonica, recorder, ten different CDs, one fat book on modern jazz, one pencil with a treble clef shaped eraser, and a backpack with the Beatles on it." She threw a thumb gesture at the contents of his backpack that she had strewn on the seat between them, "No idea why I came to that conclusion."
Jeffrey snorted, and promptly regretted it as his stomach gave a twist.
"So...what's a music enthusiast such as yourself doing, wandering around Boston with a doozy case of the flu?" She asked absently, erasing something, "Aren't you musicians supposed to have frail constitutions or something?"
"Class? I didn't want to miss it." Jeffrey said wincing.
"Right, silly me. Of course school is worth dying for."
"Well, when you put it that way I guess I sound dumb." Jeffrey massaged his temples, "I hate to ask for anything else, but you don't have water by any chance?"
"Knock yourself out." She tossed him a water bottle, only filled halfway with water, "Don't worry, my mouth didn't touch it. I just had to use it to put out a Chemistry project."
"You teach? You look young." Jeffrey took a sip of the water.
She snorted.
"Me teach Chemistry? God no. Me and Chemistry have a very ironic relationship when you consider its name."
"You take Chem, then?"
"No. Never. There was just a fiasco in the hall at my college involving some kid who thought there was no possible point to using the lab. Normal stuff when you go to a school for geniuses and geeks."
"There's a difference between those two?"
"One memorizes facts, the other knows those facts and applies them to everything, then uses those applications to discover new things."
"Sounds like music."
"Sure." The blonde snorted.
"I'm serious. I use chords, notes, music theory, the roots of music, and then I blend them all to discover new sounds." Jeffrey groaned as the taxi took a sharp turn.
The girl was frowning thoughtfully.
"Huh."
"When you think about it everything's connected...and." Jeffrey stopped queasily, and hurriedly rolled down his window.
The girl smiled sympathetically, and Jeffrey noticed how it complimented her bright blue eyes.
"You might want to save the Buddha talk for when you can speak without gagging."
Jeffrey grunted in confirmation, too sick to nod or say a word. He sat there and watched the dry-witted girl studiously write. He zoned out staring at her without realizing it.
"If you take a picture it'd last longer." She remarked without looking up.
"What?" Jeffrey asked dully.
"You're staring." The girl told him.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to. It's just when I close my eyes I feel sick. And when I look out the window everything's rushing past and I feel sick." Jeffrey apologized, "I was just trying to focusing on one thing. I'll look at something else."
"Good idea." She said dismissively.
Jeffrey tried to look anywhere but at the blonde girl with amazingly blue eyes, but that didn't work. She was way too fascinating.
"What's your name?" he heard himself ask dimly.
"Skye." She said abruptly, "Now, shush."
"Just like your eyes." Jeffrey said with a flash of brilliant realization. Skye looked at him in amusement.
"Dude, you're freakin' delirious, but, yes, just like my eyes. Blue eyes, blue sky."
"That's poetry." Jeffrey mumbled, feeling his eyes droop.
"Sure." He heard Skye snort as he dropped off. He wasn't sure if the next part was a piece of a dream, but he felt like he heard himself mutter, "You're really beautiful."
Skye felt touched by the pathetic words that fell from the ill boy's mouth. He was slouched over against his side of the car, hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, and his mouth hanging open. His whole face was contorted into one similar to a sad puppy. He reminded Skye of a little five year old. He was kind of adorable in a helpless way. Skye shook her head at that thought, and returned back to her notebook with a little smile. She didn't look up until the taxi came to an abrupt screeching halt, in the tradition of all cabs.
"Akron Street." Blared the driver, "Pay the fare, Sistah."
Skye woke the slumbering invalid and dragged him and his effects out of the dingy yellow vehicle. Carefully, she counted out the exact amount for the fare from Jeffrey's wallet, and set the cabbie off with a wave.
"Okay, Tifton." She straightened him as he almost toppled over, "Which of these beauts is your's"
"That one. No wait..." Jeffrey squinted, "It's the one right next to that one that looks exactly the same. Wait, did it just...move?"
Skye observed the white apartment complex, in which general direction Jeffrey was gesturing to. She tugged him along.
"You're seeing double, c'mon what's your apartment number?"
"MusicRawks." Jeffrey mumbled blearily, trying to wake up completely, "With a 'w'."
"Very helpful." Skye said sarcastically, "Where's your key?"
"I was going to ask you that?" Jeffrey blinked at her in confusion.
Skye groaned and pinched her nose.
"You know what? I'll just ring the doorbell."
"Great idea!" Jeffrey said queasily. He was leaning against the porch rail and giving Skye a frail thumbs up.
"I'm delighted you approve." Skye jabbed the doorbell agitatedly.
"Yes?" A grizzled old lady with a mustache answered the door.
"I was going to ding dong ditch and leave this helpless infant on your doorstep, but I thought it would be rude. He doesn't belong to you, does he?"
"Jeffrey?" The old woman looked at the boy Skye was jabbing her thumb towards.
"What's the matter with you?"
Jeffrey looked directly in the woman's eyes...and then turned and puked over the side of the porch.
"Just the flu. He'll be fine." Skye waved dismissively, "Can you take him off my hands?"
"I'll go get his roommate Jeremy, and he'll take care of the poor boy." The woman shut the door in Skye's face.
"A very nice...woman?"
"Yeah, don't let the lip hair fool you. I honestly can't look at her face without feeling sick." Jeffrey retched again. Skye stepped farther away.
"Good idea, I doubt she cared for those flowers anyway."
"Sarcasm?! From you?!" Jeffrey mumbled sarcastically, "Who would have believed it?"
"Wow! I'm really feeling the gratitude for hauling your sick butt all the way back here."
"Great. I'm really really glad you do." Jeffrey flashed his best fake smile, which was a grimace as his stomach lurched.
"Oh, c'mon. I have nothing left to puke up." He groaned and leaned over the rail.
"Great and not at all disgusting to know." Skye was busy looking at a cell phone, when Jeffrey looked back at her.
"Hey! My phone has that exact same music note case!" He exclaimed.
"Really? What a coincidence! Because this is your phone." Skye said disinterestedly.
"What? How'd you unlock it?" Jeffrey took a step towards her so he could snatch it away, but ended up only shakily grabbing the rail again for support.
"MusicRawks? I hear it's your apartment number too." Skye told him without looking up.
"That's not my apartment number." Jeffrey was confused.
"No, but that's what you think your apartment number is when you're only half-awake. Seriously, dude, you're not completely there when you're just woken up; though, that could be your flu too."
"No, that's just normal. Can I have my phone back, please?"
"Relax, I'm just putting my number in it. You should be fine waiting here, and I've really got to get going. I have a thing. Text me that you made it out alright." Skye slapped his phone into his hand, "Have a good one. Well as good a one as you can fighting that flu."
With that she sauntered down the stairs and started off.
"Hey, wait. I didn't thank you!"
"You're welcome!" She waved, walking backwards.
"But what if I don't see you again?"
Skye halted on the sidewalk in front of the apartment building, and cocked a surprised eyebrow while she peered up at Jeffrey.
"I only just met you today."
"Right. And I know I probably look crazy-"
"Delirious." Skye agreed.
"-but um...I think you're terrific. A little sarcastic perhaps..."
Skye raised both eyebrows in surprise and pointed to herself in disbelief.
"Me? Sarcastic?"
"Okay, a lot sarcastic." Jeffrey was able to muster a grin, "I-I just, you seem really cool, and I'd like to hang sometime. Maybe, you know, when I'm not feeling the urge to vomit all over your feet. I'm still really sorry about that. Maybe I could pay you back with coffee or something?"
Skye mulled over his proposition for a little bit, and then shrugged.
"Well, you do have my number. Who knows? Crazier things have happened."
Jeffrey looked hopeful.
"So I'll text you then? Maybe work it out?"
"Sure." Skye shrugged and then began to back up again, "Now, I really have to get going, there's a thing...I really gotta run. See you 'round. Maybe."
"See you." Jeffrey gave a small wave, clutching the rail carefully.
Jeffrey watched her disappear off of his street, her blonde ponytail bobbing with every step as she jogged away.
He still felt sicker than sick, but he couldn't help himself from smiling a little and looking down at the new contact number in his phone.
"Skye Penderwick." He read out loud, and then read the last name again, liking the way it rolled off his tongue, "Penderwick."
Maybe the flu wasn't all that bad after all.