The crowd dispersed into smaller groups as everyone dug in on the amazing spread prepared by Kimbay. There were people scattered throughout the mission hut, and on the porch outside. Gotswanna was entertaining a small group of villagers outside the hut, singing some song about maggots with his Adungu. Connor decided that he didn't want to know.
He spotted Poptarts by the food, scooping himself some meat stew. Connor strode over to his mission companion and tapped on his shoulder, "Hey, can I talk to you for a second?"
Poptarts shrugged, "Sure." And they made their way back to their room.
"What's up?" Poptarts sat down on the bed while stirring his stew.
"Have you spoken to your parents recently?" Connor asked.
"The last time I called home was a week ago. Why do you ask?"
Connor filled him in on what happened with his parents, and also Kevin's situation. Poptarts listened with a sympathetic frown, "That's awful. Is he alright?"
"What do you think? Anyway, you should probably call your parents."
"Well, my parents can get pretty uptight at times but they certainly aren't half as bad as Mr and Mrs Price. But yeah, I guess I should call them tonight," Poptarts took a slurp of his stew, "Oh my this is amazing. You gotta go try some."
—
When Connor returned to the party, the food, including the amazing stew, was already gone. He blew out a breath of disappointment, man, he hadn't even touched anything yet.
Suddenly, a hand holding a full plate of food appeared in front of his face. The hand was attached to none other than Kevin Price.
"You can have mine," Kevin offered.
"Nah, you should eat. I'll just go make myself a sandwich or something."
"I've already had enough. I'm not that hungry anyway," Kevin shoved the plate into Connor's hands.
"But you barely ate breakfast," Connor pointed out.
"The flu is still kicking my ass, but I'll live," Kevin smiled, "Hey, umm thanks, for this."
"Well, I barely did anything. Poptarts was the one who gathered everyone, and Kimbay was the one who cooked all these wonderful food," Connor looked around the room, "Where's Elder Cunningham and Nabulungi?"
"The lovebirds went for a walk. Hey, I'm gonna go back to my room, I'm kinda tired," Kevin rubbed at his eyes, "Think it's okay for me to leave my own party early?"
"Hmm, I'll let you have a free pass this time," Connor talked around the food he was chewing, "Why don't you head on back, I'll bring you some water so you can take your medicine,"
Kevin nodded his thanks before walking away.
Connor wished that he could see Kevin smile like that every day. Even he knew that it would be a tall order, but a boy can dream.
—
Connor rapped twice on the wooden door.
There was no answer.
He knocked again and put his ear to the door, listening intently.
Still nothing.
"Kevin?" He opened the door and poked his head inside the room.
Kevin was already sleeping soundly in bed, the covers pulled up to his chin even though it was a blazing hot afternoon. Connor reckoned that Kevin's 'kinda tired' was a major understatement, if he managed to fall asleep in the two minutes Connor took to get the water.
He was glad that he also grabbed the newly-purchased thermometer from their first aid box.
"Kevin, wake up."
Connor unwrapped Kevin from his covers, which Kevin clung to tightly, "Nooo."
"It's really hot, Kevin. This will only make your fever worse," Connor managed to wrangle the covers away from Kevin and dump it on Arnold's bed.
He unwrapped the packaging for the thermometer and turned it on, "Here, put it in your mouth."
"Ew, no," Kevin shrunk away from the thermometer, "Did you even wash it?"
"Why do I need to? It's new," Connor said matter-of-factly, "I think you have more germs in you than the thermometer right now."
"Please just go wash that," Kevin coughed.
"Fine," Connor conceded. It was apparent that Kevin was not going to put the thermometer in his mouth until it was thoroughly cleaned.
—
Connor picked out the correct number of pills from the small bag, as they waited for the thermometer to finish its job.
Kevin mumbled something garbled around the thermometer in his mouth.
"Stop talking, or it's going to take even longer."
When it finally beeped, Kevin pulled the thermometer out of his mouth. "Oh," Kevin frowned as he read it, "It's in Celsius."
"What? Let me see," Connor snatched it from Kevin, "Thirty-eight point five. Is that above a hundred? Normal temperature is like a thirty-seven, right?"
Kevin squeezed his eyes shut, "I can't count right now, Connor. Just give me those and let me sleep."
Connor was still staring intently at the numbers on the thermometer when the door swung open.
"Kev!" Arnold yelled, "I was looking for you, buddy- Oh hey! Elder McKinley!"
"Elder Cunningham, hey," Connor greeted.
"What's wrong with Kevin?" Arnold jumped onto his own bed.
"Nothing's wrong, I'm just tired is all."
"Ooo! Is that your temperature, Kev? Let me see!" Arnold made grabby hands at the thermometer, which Connor handed over.
"That's weird, Kevin! You're really cold!"
"It's in Celsius, Arnold," Kevin exhaled.
"Oh! That's okay, we can convert it back to the correct temperature! I'm great at math!"
"It is already correct, Arnold," Kevin said plainly.
"Really, Elder Cunningham?" Connor raised an eyebrow at Arnold's confession, "can you convert it to Fahrenheit for us?"
"Sure! How do I do that?"
"Multiply it by one point eight, and then add thirty-two," Kevin recited with a groan.
Arnold took a few seconds to think before enthusiastically yelling, "One-oh-one point three!" He then realised what the numbers meant ,"Oh Kev, you're sick! Again!"
Connor was impressed. He never know Arnold was good at math. Maybe Arnold could help him with doing their finances.
"You're really loud, Arnold," Kevin grimaced and held his head, "One hundred and one is not that bad."
"Point three!"
"Headache?" Connor's brows furrowed, "Maybe we should go get Gotswanna."
Arnold volunteered to go, "I saw him outside the hut just now."
"C'mon you guys, I can assure you there's nothing he can do. Now," Kevin held his palm out to Connor.
"Are you sure you don't need-," Connor dropped the pills into his palm when Kevin glared, "Okay, okay."
Arnold beamed, "Don't worry Elder McKinley! I'll stay here and watch Kevin sleep."
Connor glanced at Kevin, who didn't seem to care either way, "Elder Cunningham, I think we should leave Elder Price to rest. You can help Elder Davis and Elder Neely clean up the living room."
Arnold whined, "But I was already on cleaning duty last week!"
"Yes, both of you were on cleaning duty, but I only recall seeing Elder Price do all the cleaning by himself," Connor stuck his hands on his hips. Elder Cunningham was great at shirking his responsibilities. He once gave Connor an absurd excuse on how Nabulungi needed him to bring her puppy cat to the vet, in order to get out of his weeding duties. They didn't even have a vet in the village, not to mention the obviously made-up animal which Nabulungi never owned.
"That's because Kevin likes cleaning!"
"No, I don't!"
"Oh you so do!"
Connor put a stop to it, "Alright, Elder Cunningham, you will help with the cleaning up. To make up for all the cleaning you haven't done last week, and the month before, and the month before that."
"Fine," Arnold blew out an exasperated breath. He balled up the pile that was Kevin's blanket and wanted to lay it back onto Kevin.
"Nope, Elder Cunningham," Connor stopped him with his hand, "No blankets for Elder Price, he doesn't need to get any warmer."
"But I'm cold."
"You're really not, you're burning up."
"It feels cold to me," Kevin pouted, matching the expression on Arnold's face.
"Just try to sleep without them for now. Elder Cunningham, let's go clean up!" Connor's tone was final.
—
Connor sure missed the peace and quiet he was enjoying for the past three days. The three Elders assigned to cleaning duty were washing dishes in the kitchen sink, which was gradually becoming more of a war zone. Connor was sitting in the living room, listening to the loud bickering get louder by the second.
"You're making the floor wet, Elder Cunningham!"
"See, if you weren't hogging the cloth, then I wouldn't have made the floor wet."
"Get your own cloth!"
"You get your own cloth!"
"These dishes aren't even dry yet, Elder Cunningham! You can't put them in the cupboard when they're still wet."
"Do you even know how to dry dishes?!"
"Aww! You stepped on my toe!"
"That's because I slipped, because the floor is so wet!"
"Elder Mckinley!" Elder Davis screamed, "Elder Cunningham is messing everything up!"
"Yeah!" Elder Neely echoed, "Elder McKinley! Please ask him to go away!"
"Ouch, no! Stop pushing me."
Connor slammed his laptop shut in annoyance. How were a couple of nineteen-year-olds still behaving like Connor's toddler cousins? He looked over at Poptarts, who rolled his eyes, "Your job, not mine," and went back to his crossword puzzle book.
Connor tilted his head skywards, "Give me strength."
—
Connor managed to stop the childish squabble in the kitchen in all of three minutes. It abruptly ended when Connor lost his patience completely, and chastised the trio for being such children.
The three Elders looked chagrined, and promised to clean up the kitchen together.
"I'm sorry, Elder McKinley," Elder Davis apologised.
"I'm sorry too," Elder Davis said, "I'll teach Elder Cunningham how to dry the dishes properly."
Elder Davis and Elder Neely stared daggers at Arnold when he didn't chime in.
Arnold sighed dramatically, "Fine, I'm sorry too," he shrugged, "Look, Elder McKinley, if I'm really that bad at cleaning up, maybe I should just-"
"Elder Cunningham!" Connor pinched the bridge of his nose, "You are not getting out of cleaning duty anymore! You will learn how to do the dishes now, or I will put you on cleaning duty for another week! And there will be no Elder Price to help you scrub the toilets clean! Do you understand?"
That seemed to work, as Arnold kept quiet and nodded. Satisfied that his job was done, Connor strode back to the living room and collapsed onto the couch.
"How did you even manage to keep them in line when I wasn't around?" Connor turned to Poptarts.
"I don't. I just leave, to get some quiet by the treehouse, and let them tire themselves out," his companion grinned, "they are usually done by the time I get back."
"That's a really good plan, actually," Connor chuckled, and checked his watch, "I'm gonna go check on Kevin. Hopefully, all the shouting hasn't woken him up."
"Suuuuuure," Poptarts dragged the syllable out, "not because you want to stare at him sleep."
"What? No! That's just creepy. Poptarts!" Connor hissed.
"Oh look, what's twenty-eight across," Poptarts tapped his pencil on his chin, "Hmm, fourteen letters, and the clue is 'I'm head-over-heels in love with a certain ex-mormon boy.' Oh I think it spells Connor McKinley."
"You done?"
"Never."