“Are you sure?” Macy dances from foot to foot as though unsure what to do.
“Considering I’ve had more than enough attention since I got to this school? Yes. Definitely.”
She doesn’t look happy by my refusal, but eventually she nods.
I drift in and out of sleep as my cousin washes her face and changes into her pajamas. But right around the time she turns off the light and crawls into bed, another wave of nausea rolls over me. I ride it out, trying to ignore how much I wish my mom were here to baby me a little, and eventually fall into a fitful sleep, one I don’t wake from until an alarm blares at six thirty the next morning. It goes off just as abruptly as someone hits Snooze.
I wake up disoriented, trying to remember where I am and whose godawful alarm was beeping in my ear. Then it all comes flooding back. After one additional trip to the bathroom around three to dry heave my guts up, the nausea receded, which was a giant plus. And everything else feels okay now—my head has stopped spinning, and while my throat feels dry, it doesn’t hurt, either.
Huh. Looks like the internet was right about the whole twenty-four to forty-eight hours to acclimate thing. I’m good as new.
At least until I sit up and realize the rest of my body is another story. Nearly every muscle I have aches like I’ve just climbed Denali—after running a marathon. I’m pretty sure it’s just dehydration combined with how tense I was yesterday, but either way, I’m in no mood to get up. I’m certainly in no mood to put on a happy face for my first day of classes.
I lie back down and pull the covers over my head, trying to decide what I want to do. I’m still lying there ten minutes later when Macy wakes up with a grumble.
The first thing she does is slap at her alarm until it stops again—something I am eternally grateful for, considering she picked the most grating, annoying sound ever created to wake up to—but it takes her only a second to climb out of bed and come over to me.
“Grace?” she whispers softly, like she wants to check on me but doesn’t want to wake me up at the same time.
“I’m okay,” I tell her. “Just sore.”
“Yuck. That’s probably dehydration.” She crosses to the fridge in the corner of the room and pulls out a pitcher of water. She pours two glasses and then hands me one as she settles back onto her bed. She spends a minute texting—Cam, I figure—before tossing her phone aside and looking at me. “I have to go to my classes today—I’ve got tests in three of them—but I’ll come back and check on you when I can.”
I’m pretty much loving her assumption that I’m not going to class, so I don’t argue. Except to say, “You don’t have to go out of your way to check on me. I’m feeling much better.”
“Good, then you can consider this a mental health day, of the Holy crap, I just moved to Alaska! variety.”
“There’s an actual mental health day for that?” I tease, moving around until I’m sitting up with my back against the wall.
Macy snorts. “There are whole mental health months for that. Alaska’s not easy.”
It’s my turn to snort. “No kidding. I’ve been here less than forty-eight hours and I’ve already figured that out.”
“That’s just because you’re afraid of wolves,” she teases.
“And bears,” I admit without a flicker of embarrassment. “As any sane person should be.”
“You have a point.” She grins. “You should take the day and do whatever you want. Read a book, watch some trash TV, eat my stash of junk food if your stomach feels up to it. Dad will let your teachers know you’ll be starting tomorrow instead of today.”
I hadn’t even thought of Uncle Finn. “Will your dad be okay with me skipping class?”
“He’s the one who suggested it.”
“How does he know—？” I break off when a knock sounds at the door. “Who—？”
“My dad,” Macy says as she crosses the room and throws open the door with a flourish. “Who else?”
Except it’s not Uncle Finn at all. It’s Flint, who takes one look at Macy in her tiny nightshirt and me in last night’s dress and smeared makeup and starts grinning like a dork.
“Looking good, ladies.” He gives a low whistle. “Guess you decided to take the tea party up a notch or four last night, huh?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Macy taunts as she makes a beeline for the bathroom and the privacy it affords. I don’t bother to answer, just stick my tongue out at him. He laughs and raises his eyebrows in response.