8/11
I slowly walked downstairs. I was already a few minutes late since I had spent the last five minutes washing my face to get rid of any sign that I've been crying. I hoped no one would notice, because if anyone did, there would be non-stop questions and interrogations. I'm still trying to figure out my parents, sometimes they're completely oblivious but other times they just won't let it go.
I love my parents, their nice and polite and usually fair (as fair as parents can be). They've taught me the usual things a person should know: respect your elders, treat others as you would want to be treated, everyone makes mistakes, take a shower every day. So I guess they're the average set of parents a person has.
My mom has light brown hair with natural blonde highlights. She volunteers at places like the animal clinic and the homeless shelter during the day, while my sister and I are at school or out of the house. My dad has black hair, turning a little gray from the sides. He works from 10am-6pm everyday, but his work is an hour drive from here so he usually leaves at 9am and gets back at 7pm. They're a nice couple and almost never fight, probably because they're so alike. But they aren't the kind of parents I would be embarrassed to be seen with, my sister and I are fortunate like that. They don't do anything to purposely embarrass us or say anything that would make us want to run and hide. That's the reason I love them the most.
I finally reached the bottom of the stairs and slowly tip-toed into the dining room, trying not to draw too much attention as I sat down. We were having lasagna with three different cheeses and the smell made me realize just how hungry I was.
"Why're you late?" my dad asked in his usual tone. I mentally smiled, relieved that he didn't notice anything.
"Bathroom," I answered simply. Neither my parents nor my sister knew about Joshua or exactly what goes on in Vim. It's not that I don't trust my parents or anything, it's just I don't think they would really care. I tried to tell my mom a few months back, but she had just said, 'It's very nice that you have friends from all over the country. Just remember not to give out too much information.' I just left it at that, not wanting to explain everything.
It was quiet for a few minutes, but I could tell my sister staring at me. It's scary how sometimes she can tell exactly when something's up with me, but I would never tell her about Vim, she's the one I don't trust.
The dinner went by reasonably fast, with my mom talking about what she did that day at the shelter. There's usually something interesting, like once, a man with six children came and said they hadn't had anything to eat in days.
As soon as we all finished (we can't leave the table until everyone is done) I ran upstairs. I was barely half way up when I heard my sister yell, "Alexis!"
"What?" I half yelled, half mourned back.
"It's your night to do the dishes, so don't even think about running away!" Drat! She knew me too well, but she would have done the same thing.
I walked back down and spent the next 15 minutes carelessly scrubbing a few plates and glasses with a sponge. I washed while Jade, my sister, dried. I'm surprised that I could stand there for so long and hold in the tears that were fighting their way out, but every time I felt like I couldn't hold them in any longer, I glanced at Jade, who was still staring at me from the corner of her eye. The second I was done with the last glass, I shoved it at Jade and ran up all the stairs before anyone had the chance to tell me to do another chore.
I didn't mean to, but I guess I accidentally slammed my door shut. That's another thing my dad hated. Without thinking, I shouted a quick "Sorry!" before realizing I just violated another rule, no shouting...I quietly groaned.
That's when I remembered the reason I was having such a bad night: the message. Josh. He's not waking up. I scolded myself for actually forgetting that for a second. I walked over to my bed and collapsed once more. My pillow was still a little soggy from the last set of tears, and all those thoughts come rushing back.
What if he doesn't wake up?! He has to wake up! I can't lose him, and what about his brother and sister? I never even really knew him...he's the one person I can't live without.
Suddenly I felt like throwing up and my stomach started hurting like crazy. I ran into the bathroom and threw up. I couldn't even remember the last time I threw up, but I think it was in third grade when I had the flu and practically spent each day in the bathroom. I lost about 5 pounds that in the week, which was bad since I was already pretty skinny. Oh god I hope that doesn't happen again!
I guess people had noticed the weight I'd lost, because within an hour or two of returning to school, someone had started a rumor that I had an eating disorder (which I do not!). I was surprised that they even knew what an eating disorder was! It took more than two weeks for me to confirm to everyone that I did NOT have an eating disorder, and that it was only the flu. My teacher even asked me that question a few times. Yes, she asked me more than once, like I would lie about something that serious! Needless to say, I really don't want to go through that again.
When I decided it was safe to get up and out of the bathroom, I slowly walked back to my room. Apparently I was walking really slowly because my mom asked me if I was okay.
"I guess I'm okay. I felt a little sick," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm fine now." Jinx...my stomach turned again and I hurried back to the bathroom and manage a "Never mind" to my mother.
After another 10 minutes, I come out and find my mother standing in the exact same spot. "You don't seem fine, is it the flu?" she asked in a worried voice.
"I don't think so; it was probably just the pretzel I had before and the lasagna after it. Definitely not a good mix..." I felt a bit faint, and put a hand on the railing to keep me steady.
"I'll go get something to fix the upset stomach and stop the vomiting." Sometimes it amazes me how fast my mom can react to a problem, but she's a mom, she's supposed to be like that right? "Do you want anything else?"
"Yes, some sleeping pills, please. I don't think I'm getting much sleep tonight." Which was true, because without sleeping pills, I'd be up all night thinking about Joshua and I didn't think that was going to make me or my stomach feel much better.
I crawled over to my bed and collapse for the third time that night. A few minutes later, my mom came back with some medicine and pills. Times like these I'm truly grateful that my mom used to be a nurse, and she knew exactly what I needed. She whispered "goodnight" and walked out after turning the light off. She really thinks of everything, doesn't she?
I still had a few minutes before the sleeping pills start working, so I thought of the only thing there was to think about.
Joshua.
God, I can't believe it's really happening...he actually might not wake up. No! He will wake up, he has to! He won't just leave me here, he's gonna be back, I know he will! Come on, Joshua! Please wake up…