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“We have English first period.” Roland Thudbury groans over breakfast. “Mr. Moley is going to put me right back to sleep.”
“Always does, doesn’t he?” Monty Finch agrees, scarfing down his eggs with the enthusiasm of a child who hasn’t eaten in days.
“It’s physically impossible to stay awake in his class. I’m convinced of it.” Roland continues, his mouth stuffed to burst with ketchup covered eggs.
“I enjoy it.” Edgar Allan chimes in, having decided he’s done with his breakfast after only a few bites. “To an extent.”
“To an extent.” Monty echos, amused.
Kevin Creeley sits silently, barely listening to his friends’ conversation. His stomach has been hurting since we woke up, and now that there’s a plate of food in front of him it’s only gotten worse. He’s in so much pain he can barely move. The only thing he can think of is curling up in bed with a hot water bottle and his stuffed Timon, maybe have Edgar read him a bedtime story or something.
“Kevin?” Roland turns his attention to him, bumping him with his pudgy elbow. Kevin snaps back to earth, nausea filling every inch of him. It takes a lot of effort for him to meet Roland’s gaze. “You feeling alright, buddy? You haven’t touched your breakfast.” He asks, a bit of ketchup dribbling down his round chin.
Kevin shrugs, scared to open his mouth. His stomach churns and he lets out a low, involuntary, pained groan.
“You’re all pale.” Monty points out, leaning across the table, uncomfortably close to Kevin’s face.
“‘M fine.” Kevin mumbles, his stomach tight with churning pain. “Had a big dinner.”
“No you didn’t.” Monty immediately calls out. “You didn’t even take a plate. You just sat here for ten minutes before going up to bed early.”
“I was doing homework.” Kevin argues, forgetting his pain for a second just to keep up the facade.
“You were asleep when I came in.” Roland says thoughtfully.
“I didn’t have much-” His stomach lurches and he fights to keep from gagging. “Didn’t have much to do.”
“We had to find one hundred examples of categorical sub-adjective nouns.” Edgar pipes up. “There’s no way you did that in half an hour.”
Kevin shrugs again, lost for words and in too much pain to try and think of anything more to say. Luckily, Roland changes the subject, shoveling the last bit of egg into his mouth.
“Class starts soon. We don’t want to be late.” He stands up, collecting his bag from beside him. Kevin stands too, in a hurry to get away from food, but it’s a mistake. His stomach lurches and he grabs at it, too woozy to move.
“Kevin?” Monty blinks his large, round eyes at him.
“Mhm.” Kevin tries to make a reassuring noise, but it comes out as a pained grunt.
“You’re green.” Monty says, resting his hand on Kevin’s quivering shoulder.
“I’m-” He’s cut off by a whiff of Brandon walking by with a second helping of eggs. Apparently, it’s the last straw for his body and he convolves forward, throwing up yesterday’s lunch. The last thing he’d managed to eat before he started feeling sick.
The dining hall falls silent. Dead silent as a hundred heads turn to look at him. Sargent Lewis and Nurse Lenny jump up from the teacher’s table, ready for action.
Kevin’s face burns red and without a second thought he makes a break for it.
He runs to the nearest boys toilet, locking himself in one of the stalls where he bursts into embarrassed, feverish tears. He can’t believe that happened, can’t believe he let it happen. Stupid, Kevin. So stupid.
He buries his head in his hands, his face noticeably burning with fever he’s felt festering since last night. He should’ve gone to Nurse Lenny this morning. He should’ve done something to prevent that. Maybe he should’ve just skipped breakfast all together and simply gone to class early.
As his mind races with the what ifs that could’ve yielded a better outcome than throwing up in front of the entire school, the bathroom door creaks open.
“Kevin?” Monty’s gentle voice calls. “Sarge sent me to find you. Are you in here?”
Kevin stops his sobbing, trying to be as silent as possible until Monty leaves. But his stomach really hurts and there’s nothing he can do but ball his hands into tight fists to keep his composure, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to make fun of you.” Monty calls. He knows Kevin’s in here, Kevin’s sure of it. He wouldn’t stick around if he thought otherwise.
Kevin tries his best to stay silent, but he can tell he’s about to be sick again. Sure enough, his body convulses and he vomits into the toilet beside him.
“Kevin!” Monty shouts. Kevin hears the bathroom door open and Monty yells out of it, “I found him!” There’s small, hurried footsteps and a knock on the bathroom stall door. “Kevin, it’s Monty, can I come in?”
“Yeah.” Kevin croaks, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. He sinks to the bathroom floor, pressing his back against the stall wall. Monty pushes the unlocked door open and sits down next to Kevin.
“I’m sorry you don’t feel well.” He comforts, putting an arm around Kevin’s thin shoulders. “We’ll stay here as long as you need.” He hugs Kevin close to him and Kevin rests his head against Monty’s blocky shoulder.
“Thanks.” He mumbles, too scared of being sick to open his mouth too much.
“Let me know when you want to go back up to the room.” Monty says, giving Kevin permission to take his time feeling under the weather. A luxury he never really had at home. Him being sick was always nothing more than an inconvenience for his parents. They had other things to do and worry about than him having an upset stomach and they had no problem with telling him that.
The bathroom door bangs open and the other two boys appear, backed up by Sargent Lewis and Nurse Lenny who wear concerned expressions on their tired faces.
“Kevin, are you alright?!” Roland rushes to the bathroom stall, crouching down across from him and Monty. He manages a small nod and mumbles an answer,
“Monty’s helping. I threw up again.” He confesses.
“Okay, boys, give him some space.” Nurse Lenny butts in, taking Roland’s place on the floor and shooing Monty away to give them some privacy. Kevin doesn’t want the boys to go, but he doesn’t have it in him to fight today. “Mind if I do a quick temperature check? Make sure all your vitals are in order?” He asks, making Kevin aware of a doctor bag at his side. He nods slowly and sits still to let Nurse Lenny do what he needs to.
Sarge turns to the other three boys.
“Why don’t you run along to class? Kevin’s in good hands now and I don’t want you falling behind.”
“But, Ms-” Edgar starts, but he’s shut down.
“I’d really recommend attending your classes. You can visit Kevin at lunch, but seeing as you are all perfectly well you have no reason to skip.” She crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes at them. “Now run along.”
“Yes Sarge.” The three answer in unison, moping out of the bathroom. Monty turns back at the last second and gives Kevin a small, sad wave goodbye, that he returns as Nurse Lenny listens to his heart and lungs.
Nurse Lenny marches Kevin back up to his room, telling him to get some rest and leaving him sick and alone in the small room.
Kevin changes into his Mickey Mouse pajama pants and Incredibles t-shirt and curls up in bed with his stuffed Timon, clutching him close to his chest as his stomach churns painfully. He closes his eyes in an attempt to forget the pain but it doesn’t work.
He lets out a low groan, squeezing Timon to his hammering heart. He misses his friends, he misses fighting monsters down on the plagueground. He misses not being crippled by some of the most intense pain he’s ever experienced. Pain that’s only second to knowing how little his parents love and care for him. Nurse Lenny took better care of him in ten minutes than he parents did for the entirety of his childhood. That thought alone is enough to bring tears to his eyes, one sliding down his nearly transparent cheek, falling onto Timon’s fluffy head. A second tear is quick to follow, then a third, and before he can stop himself he’s sniffling into his pillow, slowly soaking it through with salty tears.
He doesn’t know when he drifted off, or what time it is when he wakes up, but he does know that his friends are here now.
“He’s awake!” Edgar squeals, jumping up and running to the door. “Roland! Monty! He’s awake!” The other two bolt into the room, Monty breaking out into a massive grin when he sees Kevin propping himself up against the headboard.
“Hey.” He beams, walking over to the bed. “Are you feeling any better?”
Kevin shakes his head, seeing faint stars in his vision.
“‘Bout the same.” He sighs, a hand clutching his stomach. He suddenly realizes Timon isn’t secured in his grasp. He starts looking around frantically for him.
“What is it?” Edgar asks, voice high with concern. “Are you going to be sick? Because if so, we don’t have a trash can for you-”
“Where’s Timon?” Kevin asks, ready to jump out of bed and search the whole school. “I need him.” Usually he’d be self conscious telling people he still relies on stuffed animals for a form of comfort, but these are his best friends and they’ve been through a lot together. He can trust them not to make fun of him.
“Where’s who?” Monty asks, raising an eyebrow.
“His Timon stuffy.” Roland explains, taking his role as Kevin’s roommate very seriously. “He sleeps with it every night, help me look.” He starts taking the room apart. Edgar and Monty exchange glances and then start looking too. Kevin’s heart swells in a way he’s sure is supposed to feel good, but he’s too sick for it to feel like anything that isn’t nausea.
“Here it is!” Edgar pipes up, half under Kevin’s bed, his legs sticking out at a strange angle. He scrambles out, holding the stuffed groundhog up like a trophy. He hands it to Kevin, panting from the effort of getting out from under the bed.
“Thanks.” Kevin accepts it shyly, holding it to his chest, where it belongs.
The boys assemble by the bed, all surveying him with worried expressions. Roland is the first to speak.
“You had us really worried, Kevin.”
“We would’ve come to see you sooner, but Sarge was on our backs about getting to class on time.” Edgar chimes.
“She had Mr. Hinks send two of his weird eyes to follow us around to make sure we didn’t make a break for it.” Monty shudders at the thought.
“It was majorly creepy.” Roland nods in confirmation.
“I still feel like I’m being watched.” Edgar scans the room to double check they really are alone. “At this school you never know.”
“Ha, yeah.” Kevin tries to smile but his face falls flat. “Sorry I wasn’t there.” Tears well in his eyes again. He knows his friends only care that he feels better, but he can’t seem to get his parents' voices out of his head, telling him he’s nothing but a nuisance and he needs to suck it up and go to school because happily ever after doesn’t just happen.
“I’m really sorry.” He sniffs, wiping his eyes with the sides of his wrists. “I- I didn’t want to get sick, I don’t even know how it happened, I just started feeling ill last night and then this morning-” He hiccups, tasting salt. “It hurts. It all hurts.” He sobs, eyes screwed tight shut so he doesn’t have to look at his friends’ faces.
“We know.” Monty says softly. Kevin feels warm arms wrap around his shaking shoulders, then another pair, the another. He opens his eyes and sees his three best friends hugging him. He leans into it, accepting their love. Accepting any form of love for the first time in a long time.
“We’ll be here until you’re all better.” Roland says, stepping back to let Kevin breathe, the other boys follow.
“Or until Sarge comes to drag us to crafting.” Monty sighs.
“Thanks, guys.” Kevin sniffs, getting himself together.
“Do you need anything in the meantime?” Edgar asks. “A bucket? Water? A cuddle?”
“I doubt I can keep water down, if I’m honest.” Kevin sighs.
“So a bucket will be handy then!” Roland chirps. “I’ll be back.” And he vanishes. A boy on a mission. He comes back two seconds later with a miniature trash bin. “Brandon let me steal this.” He sets it down on the floor beside Kevin and pats his shoulder. “All better.” He beams.
“Thanks.” Kevin sniffs, wiping at his runny nose. “All better.”
“Mind if I sit?” Monty asks, his face plain and somber.
“Sure.” Kevin mumbles in response, his stomach rumbling a little bit. He trusts his friends to make him feel better.
Monty sits down at the foot of the bed, Edgar plopping down on the hard floor, his back against the bed, pulling a pocket sized book from the inside of his blazer. Roland sits down on his bed across the small room, eyeing Kevin with worried eyes. His pudgy, round face uncharacteristically serious.
Kevin lays down, the cold pillow a welcome sensation against his feverish skin. He lets his eyes close, trusting that his friends will be here when he wakes up. They’ll take care of him. They love him. And no one needs to say it for him to know. He’s more loved here than anywhere else.