Chapter Eighteen

John whipped the sweat from his brow, the heat starting to make him light-headed. He'd never had a problem with heat before, since he'd spent every summer in long-sleeved shirts, but he'd never felt California heat.

Claire watched him for a moment, waiting for the worst. She knew it wouldn't be very long before he became overheated, and she knew that a seizure or passing out in a crowded Disney Land walkway would be too embarrassing for him to continue with the day. "Why don't we get you a t-shirt?" She asked, handing him a water bottle from her backpack.

He twisted the cap off, swallowing half of the water in the little container. "I'm-" He swayed slightly, grabbing onto Claire's shoulder to keep from going down.

Clarissa stepped up to the couple, steering John into the shade beside one of the gift stores. "Okay, no more choices on the t-shirt, we are getting you one." She pulled him inside of the shop, standing him right under one of the air conditioning vents to help get his temperature down. "Claire, go find him one that you think will fit." She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, dabbing it over the boy's face. "Honestly, how would you survive without us?"

Dominic chuckled, picking up a Mickey-ear-hat from the stack. "He's getting a little rusty." He looked down at the stitching on the cap, showing it to Amelia. "There you go princess." He pointed to the writing. "It says 'princess' perfect for you."

Amelia grinned, taking it from him. "Can we get it?" She asked, looking between Dominic and Brian. "Please?"

Brian smiled, showing his braces. "We can get it." He noticed Kaylie checking out a little bracelet on the display beside the counter. "But you have to be good."

Amelia nodded, placing the hat on her head and running off to help Allison with something.

Claire picked a couple shirts off of the rack, checking the sizes before walking back to her mother and boyfriend. "How about these?" She asked, holding them out for him to see. "I can't remember what size you are."

John shrugged, watching as Clarissa took the shirts from her daughter and stretched them over his back to check the size. "I've lost so much weight that I haven't been the same size since the first two weeks in April."

He felt Clarissa poke his shoulder points, measuring his width before moving to his length. She patted his back, making him stand up straight. "You'll get it back." She handed the shirt over to Claire, along with a twenty-dollar bill. "I'm sure of it."

John turned to look at her, knowing that they didn't want to hear the truth. "Mom, I'm not gaining weight like I should." He remembered that morning when he'd had his daily bought of nausea in the hotel room. "And I'm not going to. That drug, changed everything. Meth screws up your gut, it messes with your mind, and it'll make your body refuse to put weight on." He swallowed, knowing that a woman was watching them as he spoke. "I'm not going to get better, like you think." He whispered in her ear. "I'm always going to be a sickly kid. I can't get better, Joe and Rachel made sure of that."

She placed a hand on the young man's cheek, making sure he looked at her. "You will get better." She smiled, taking the new shirt back from her daughter. "Go put this on."

He nodded, taking the shirt into the bathroom to change. "Thanks Mom."