The next day I wake up alone, the apartment eerily silent as I get ready for school. I take the bus, and there's a whooping five kids on it, including me. That flu must be getting worse.
As we set up our desks in Physics, Alycia tells me Matt never met up with her like he was supposed to.
I pull the funny card. "So no condoms were used?"
It gets a chuckle, but she rolls her eyes and goes, "C'mon, this is serious!"
"Oh, I'm sure he's fine, love. You'll see him later today and realize you were overreacting."
As a whole two more kids pop in the room, my eyes peer to the door and Alycia pokes me in the rib with the eraser end of her pencil. "Look who's baaack!"
I slap at her pencil, making it drop to the floor. "Oh, stop. You know she's not my type."
Her name is Rhea, one of the girls in many of our classes. Tall, blonde, and beautiful, but personality extremely lacking. We went on a few dates and I never felt a romantic connection, but she didn't seem to understand that. Even now, she gives a small wave and flirtatious wink. I respond with an awkward wave of my fingers.
"She seems to think otherwise." Alycia teases. It's my turn to roll my eyes.
"As if."
The class goes on as normal. Some boring lecture on cathodes begins and Alycia moves to the side with a group of her other friends. They crowd around a single phone, all watching it in a mix of shock and wonder.
"Ladies, am I confiscating phones today?" Mrs. Pruelle, our teacher, asks. I don't think they even hear her.
"Guys..." I scooch over to them and poke at Lauren's shoulder, the one holding the phone.
She shoes my hand away. "Yeah, yeah, just one more second."
My eyes go to the screen and I furrow my brows in confusion. It's of the highway shooting last night.
The video is of a man who seems to be hurt aggressively biting a huge chunk out of a cop's shoulder. The injured one lies on the ground, bringing the cop down with him. The cop pushes him away, screaming. He runs from the man, though the man gets up and starts a limping chase to the surrounding officers. Scared, some of them shoot in attempt to stop him. He goes to his knees, but somehow he's still moving.
"It's not real. It can't be real." Alycia says, sounding bored.
"Seems real to me," another friend, Tanya, replies with wide eyes glued to the phone. She's obviously terrified.
"Watch. Here's the new reel." Lauren pulls the phone closer. With one last shot to the head, the man finally falls over. Dead.
"Boom! Killshot, bitches." Lauren says. Tanya puts a hand over her mouth in shock. Alycia rolls her eyes. I'm inclined to agree with the latter movement. Videos like this are made all the time on the internet. It's all fake.
Alycia goes to her own phone. "Matt's not texting me." She says, concerned.
A hand pulls up next to the phone. "And you're not texting him. Give it up, Alycia." Mrs. Pruelle; she snuck up on us. Whoops.
Alycia immediately pulls the device close to her chest defensively. Before Pruelle makes another comment, our principal's voice rings through the intercoms. "Good morning again, students. The district has decided that today will be a half-day. I repeat, today will be a half-day. When the bell rings, proceed to your buses in a calm, orderly fashion."
Calm, orderly fashion? Since when does someone say that on school announcements?
Madison pops into the doorway, pulling Alycia aside for a moment. I look over to them, worried. Unannounced half-day, "calm, orderly fashion," highway shooting?
Eh, just another day in LA. Probably.
"Tina, c'mere." Madison waves me over, and I follow the motion.
"Yeah?"
"When the bell rings, I want you and Alycia to go to my house, okay?" My heart swells at the motherly affection.
"But… My apartment—"
"Just to be safe. Your parents are out of the country, I'm sure they'd be just fine with you staying after all this craziness, right?"
I think for a moment and give a heavy shrug. "Yeah, I guess."
"What about Nick?" Alycia asks.
"You two will be there in case he comes back."
"When he comes back." Alycia corrects.
Madison gives a grim smile. "When. Yeah."
The bell rings and Madison waves us goodbye as she walks out the classroom, and the two of us head to our desks. Alycia haphazardly shoves her binder and pencils into the large pouch of her backpack, whereas I put my items in neatly.
"He run off again?" I ask somberly, referring to Nick. She hadn't told me anything.
"He always does." Alycia huffs, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.
"But he always comes back." I offer a small shred of hope. She doesn't comment as we head to the buses.
Originally, I believed we'd follow Madison's plan to go to her house via bus. The only issue is that Alycia gets on the wrong one.
"Alycia, we're four. Not seven." I point to the number on the bus. A strong, dark seven is written on the yellow metal.
"I want to see Matt first." She answers nonchalantly, getting on the first step.
"Alycia!" I hurl out, but she doesn't turn back. Weighing the pros and cons of going to her house alone, I step on seven. I can't stop the sinking feeling in my stomach as the engine roars to life and the bus shakes out of the parking lot.
The bus drops us off about ten minutes from Matt's house. He lives close towards the beachside, and it's a decent warm day, so the small walk isn't taxing. As we hop off the bus and it rolls away, Alycia offers me an earbud. I take it, standing close so we can share the music.
Normally, LA streets are alive and bustling with people, even during the day while most are at work and school. Today the only other inhabitants are a couple skateboarders on the sidewalk. It's odd. Far too slow for my liking.
When we reach his house—which I'd only been to once before, for a Halloween party—I immediately sense something wrong. I pull away from Alycia, dropping my earbud in the process, and furrow my brows at the front door ajar. If someone was home, they'd close and lock it behind them. Oh, no.
Alycia haphazardly balls the earbuds and shoves them in her pocket. She pulls through the door, and her feet pound the elegant stairs as she stalks up them. To the left of the staircase, a black coffee table is knocked over, with the dirt of a potted plant littering the tiled floor.
"Alycia—" I start, voice trembling without my consent.
"Matt?" She calls from the top of the stairs, walking down the small hallway to the left. I bound up after, taking two at a time to reach her.
It's quiet. Too quiet for Matt.
I take a right at the top, to the small living area. Another table knocked over, and a vase full of bright flowers. Not only that, but a chair and tall lamp pushed over.
"What the hell happened here?" I whisper, the silence in the room tense. Alycia's eyes dart around the space, desperate to know the answer. I can almost pinpoint the moment her blood pressure begins to spike.
"Matt?" She calls out again, going into the open kitchen and walking briskly through the other side. I follow not far behind, hoping we can find him. Or some answers.
We turn through the open concept hallway again, reaching the other side of the house, to where the couches are. On the ground, we find Matt, his raspy breathing filling my ears. His deep black skin is nearly ashen, and sweat pours from his forehead. Good lord, what happened to you?!
"Oh, my god." Alycia breathes, and runs over to him. She drops to her knees at his side. "Baby? Can you hear me? Are you okay?"
More questions fly out her mouth at lightning speed. It's almost like he's too sick to respond. Bloody hell, it looks like he contracted the plague, or something worse.
"Tina, help me get him up." She commands, and I try to grab at his other side.
"C'mon, Matt. Let's get you to bed." Alycia says soothingly. Together (with much effort on my side; my arms are like noodles,) we pull him off the ground and manage to weakly limp him to his room and onto the large bed in the middle. At Alycia's request, I call 911, but the damn line is busy. So she goes to call his parents.
"Vegas trip." He mutters out, voice raspy. He coughs immediately after, sounding like he's in the process of hacking up a lung.
But Matt's right; Alycia gets nowhere with the call. Neither pick up. He lets out a low groan of pain so we readjust him in hopes of making him more comfortable, but each touch just seems to hurt. Once he settles Alycia pulls her phone out of her pocket.
"Dammit." Alycia mutters.
"What?" I ask, standing from my side of Matt. The damn bed's so big, and I am far too short. I barely come in at 5'2".
"I just missed a call from mom." She rips the earbuds out of the phone and presses Call Back.
It rings for a total of 0.2 seconds before Madison pick up. "Mom." Alycia breathes into the phone receiver. Her voice sounds so pained.
A few seconds pass by, probably of Madison yelling at Alycia for not being home like she asked. I mentally wince; I'm gonna have to apologize for that, too. I'm supposed to be a good influence.
"No, I can't." Alycia whines. I leave the room to grab a hand towel and thermometer from the bathroom, pouring cold water into the fabric.
I look over to Alycia as I put the wet washcloth on Matt's forehead, whispering, "What's she saying?"
She holds a finger up to shush me and I nod, putting the thermometer under Matt's unmoving tongue. My eyes glaze over to her as she suddenly jumps from her spot.
"What?! No, I can't!"
Her voice drops a few octaves. "He's sick. He's really sick... It's Matt... His fever's like—" I pull the thermometer out of his mouth and show her the numbers. "103."
"We had to move him from the ground, he can barely walk. It hurts when I touch him—"
My hand gently compresses the washcloth on his forehead, hopefully offering some form of comfort. His eyes move to mine. I've never seen them so desperate. The chocolate orbs plead with my olive-green ones, but I can't tell what they're pleading for.
"I tried. It's-it's busy… His parents are in Vegas, they're not picking up."
A few seconds of silence occur, and Alycia begins to call out to Madison on the phone. "Mom? Mom!"
"What happened?" I ask, taking the washcloth back to the bathroom. I pour more cold water into it and set it back on Matt's forehead gingerly.
"They're coming to get us." She tells me. Alycia grabs Matt's hand, holding it tightly. "She wants me to stay away from him."
"I would say it's sound advice." I try to reason. "You don't want what he has."
"But I can't just walk away from him. He's just sick. He's not gonna hurt me." She clutches the hand closer to her chest, kissing his knuckles.
He may not, but his immune system might.
I'm resting my side against the wall near the open door when Madison and Travis barge through.
"Alycia," Madison says the second she walks in, "move away from him."
She's curled up beside Matt, gently pressing the washcloth to his forehead. "What's wrong with you?"
"People are getting sick, it could be contagious." Madison reasons. Tried that already, love.
"If he has it, I have it."
"Alycia, can I talk to him? Please?" Travis asks.
She gives a small huff of indignation at the request, but stands up from the bed and pulls aside to the wall.
"Hey, Matt." Travis starts, and leans down to the bed's height. "Where are your folks?"
Matt manages a weak, "They should be home soon."
"They're driving home today." Alycia mentions.
"When did this start?" Travis asks, though he turns his head to address the question more towards Alycia.
"He was supposed to meet me at the beach yesterday, and… never showed up."
Matt begins another coughing fit, and it sounds dry in his throat. Travis grabs the glass from Matt's nightstand and holds it over his shoulder to Alycia.
"Alycia, would you…?" Travis refers to the glass. With a roll of her eyes, she takes the glass and heads to the kitchen.
"I'll, um, I'll follow her." I say to Madison and Travis. Madison gives me a gratuitous nod, and I scamper through the hall after my friend.
It's not long before the glass is filled and we make our way back to Matt's room. We hear the end of a conversation, with Travis whispering, "It wasn't like this. Get the girls."
"What're you talking about?" Alycia asks, concern in her words.
Madison takes a few steps back, going towards us and the door. "I'm gonna call 911 from the car."
"Okay, good. I'll wait for them."
"No, go outside." The response is quick.
"Mom!"
They both talk at the same time. My poor ears can barely keep up.
"Alycia, please listen to me," is overlapped by, "Why the hell are you doing this?!" Which is mixed with, "Don't do this right now," and, "Are you psychotic? He's sick!"
Alycia pushes past her mom and Travis and goes back to Matt's bedside. Her voice sounds so small and hurt. "Do you want some water?"
Madison would have ripped Alycia from his side if it wasn't for Travis. His hands go to hers, holding them tightly as he whispers, "It's okay."
Matt shakes his head to Alycia, a feat for his very weak body. And when he begins to speak, I'm astounded. I haven't seen this much activity in him all day. "Listen to me. My parents will be home soon. You know I'll be fine. You know that."
Alycia shakes her head. "No, I'm not leaving you." Her hands grasp at his tightly. "I love you."
Matt breaks out into the weakest smile. His hand goes to the middle of her forearm, tracing a spiral drawn in marker. "I love you, too. That's why you gotta go. Okay? You gotta go."
She doesn't move from her spot, but Matt presses again. "Go."
Alycia leans down, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. His hand goes around her shoulder, rubbing chaste circles to get her moving.
I go to Alycia, my hand gently touching her other shoulder. "C'mon, it's time to go."
She slowly rises from her spot, turning so she doesn't look at me when we go out the door. I hear Madison softly thank Matt for getting her to move.
Travis and Madison follow behind us as we go down the hall, down the stairs, and outside. It's quiet; not something normal with the Clarkes. Though, in this situation, nothing is really normal, is it?
Nick is outside by the truck, waiting for us. He's sporting a baggy pair of pants, a white and yellow striped shirt, and a pale, puffy jacket.
"Hey." I say. Alycia wordlessly passes him, hopping into the truck and flinging the door shut behind her. My eyes glaze over her as she stuffs earbuds in and turns the music up.
"Hey." Nick responds.
"Nice outfit." I note, pointing to his geriatric couture.
"Not mine."
"No shit, sherlock." He stole them. Only explanation. It was probably either that or a Johnny from the hospital.
Madison and Travis open the front door to the house, and Travis tells us to pile in. This is gonna be one hell of an awkward ride.