It was an average Thursday morning in the middle of May. As normal, Katrina woke up to her alarm jingling a tune. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and tossed the covers off.

Once she was dressed, she went downstairs for breakfast. However, Dad wasn't there. That was weird; usually her father was always up before her. She shrugged it off and got herself a banana and some cereal.

Dad still wasn't downstairs by the time she was finished. She packed a lunch and got all her things together, but still no sign of him. Katrina decided to go back upstairs and check on him. When she peeked into his room, his alarm was gently ringing, but he seemed to be either sleeping through it or just ignoring it. He looked tired, with a gentle glow on his face. Dad must be catching a cold.

She went to the bathroom to get a few things. What do people need when they're sick, she thought. Tissues, of course. And a thermometer? I don't know if it will help, but it never hurts to try. What else? Water! She found all three of those things and left them by Dad's bedside table. She turned his alarm off and kissed his forehead. "I'll see you after school."


When she arrived at school, Katrina went to her classroom and sat at her desk. Mme. Larousse was at her desk as well, grading last week's spelling test. "Bonjour, Katrina," she said when she saw her. "Comment était ta nuit?" (Hello, Katrina. How was your night?)

"C'était bon," said Katrina, "mais je pense que mon père a attrapé un rhume." (It was good, but I think my dad's caught a cold.)

"Oh, ca c'est pire," said Mme. Larousse. "Quand tu retourneras chez toi, dis-lui que j'ai donné mes bonnes souhaits." (Oh, that sucks. When you get home, tell him I sent my well wishes.)

As the morning progressed, more and more students entered the classroom, and soon it was nine o'clock, and class was in session. "Alors, classe, qui peut me dire la réponse de neuf divisé par trois?" (So, class, who can tell me the answer to nine divided by three?)


"Atchoum!"

Joe woke up sneezing like mad. He shook his head and looked at the clock. It read 9:08. Had he really slept in for over two hours?! He then noticed the glass of water, box of tissues, and thermometer on the bedside table. Katrina must have left those there. Quelle gentille fille, he thought. (What a good girl.) He picked up a tissue from the box and swabbed at his nose.

Looking out the window, he could see the sun up and the grass; it had grown in a beautiful shade of green after the snow had all gone away. He rubbed his eyes, hauled himself out of bed, bundled himself into his robe, and went downstairs to make himself some chamomile tea for his throat. Once he was in the kitchen, he didn't turn the light on; he simply sat and drank his tea while the sun's rays beamed in through the window. He found it peaceful.


Later, it was lunchtime. "So is your dad coming in to parent-teacher conferences tomorrow?" Annie asked Katrina.

"Why wouldn't he?" Claire said. "He loves Mme. Larousse 'cause she's from Paris." She made fake kissy noises.

Katrina pouted. "No he doesn't, my dad already has a boyfriend."

Claire didn't hear her; she was lost in her own little game. "Oh, Joey, oh, Janey, mwah, mwah, mwah."

Katrina scowled. "Let's go on the double swings when we're done eating," she whispered to Annie. They finished their sandwiches, and off they went to the double swings.

"What are you gonna do when you get home?" Annie asked.

"I don't know," said Katrina. "Probably figure out dinner."

"You can cook dinner by yourself?" Annie cocked her head. "My mom doesn't let me do that alone."

"Well, I'm the only one who can cook right now," said Katrina, "cause my dad's sick."

"Oh," said Annie quietly. "I hope he gets better soon."


That afternoon, Katrina came home from school, and made sure to open and close the door quietly. She found her father laying on the couch, having a nap.

She went upstairs, did her homework, put her dirty laundry in the hamper, and then looked at her clock. It was 2:46; two hours and fourteen minutes until five, which was dinnertime. So she had some time to kill.

At 3:09, she heard Dad downstairs sneezing. She put her pink pencil down and went down to the living room. "Dad?"

"Huh?" Dad looked up. "Oh, tu es ici." (Huh? Oh, you're here.)

Katrina sat with her father. "How are you feeling?"

"Mieux que ce matin," said Dad. "Mon gorge n'est plus irritée." (Better than this morning. My throat isn't sore anymore.)

"That's good," said Katrina. She picked up the remote. "Hey, Life with Johnny in California comes on soon."


It was almost five o'clock. Dad had fallen back asleep, and so Katrina had gone to the kitchen to get two packets of instant chicken soup. She put the kettle on, and took out two bowls. She watched the kettle boil, and once it clicked, she poured some water into both bowls, mixed it with the instant chicken mix, and set the bowls on the table. Then she went to wake up Dad.

Dad rubbed the sleep from his eyes as Katrina pulled him up to come eat. "Je suis impressionné par toi aujourd'hui. Tu prends soin de moi, fais tous tes devoirs, et cuisine le dîner." (I'm impressed with you today. You took care of me, did all your homework, and cooked dinner.) He ruffled her hair.

"So do you think you're okay to go to parent-teacher conferences tomorrow?" Katrina asked.

"Je pense," said Dad. "Je ne me sens pas vraiment malade non plus" (I think. I don't feel very ill anymore.)

"That's good," said Katrina.


The next morning, Joe, fresh-faced and feelin' fine, entered the school for his 9:30 conference with Mme. Larousse.

"Bonjour, M. Beaufort," said Mme. Larousse when Joe came in. "Katrina m'informe que tu étais malade hier matin." (Hello, Mr. Beaufort. Katrina told me that you were sick yesterday morning.)

"C'est vrai," said Joe, "mais je me sens vraiment mieux aujourd'hui." (It's true, but I feel much better today.)

"Bon," said Mme. Larousse, preparing to start the conference.