Virals(56)

Don't be real, my lips mouthed silently.

SNUP.

One body-shaking tremor, then the shockwave passed.

I opened my eyes. Then I bolted to the bathroom mirror.

Green irises stared back. Normal. I allowed the breath to ease from my lungs.

But my relief was short-lived.

Something was wrong. Something serious, perhaps deadly.

My mind circled back to the odd connection I'd felt with Coop. That instant of kinship and understanding. Of communion.

"What's happening to me?" I whispered.

My question was answered by silence.





CHAPTER 40


Monday morning dawned really, really early. I stumbled into first period half-dead.

Jason and Hannah were already waiting by our workstation, laptops booted. I dreaded delivering the bad news.

"Guys, I'm so sorry, but I don't have my data." I slumped into my chair. "I know I promised it today, but I've been sick all weekend."

Hannah frowned but said nothing.

Jason shook his fists in mock indignation.

"Outrageous! We count on you to make us look smart."

"I'll get it done ASAP, I promise." I blew stray hairs from my forehead. "If you'd endured the weekend I had, you'd understand."

"Don't worry," Jason said. "The presentation isn't until Friday. We'll put your part last, and you can present the findings however you want."

"Just get better." Hannah's concern sounded genuine. "That's most important."

I smiled my thanks. Academic slacking isn't my style. Guilt is. My conscience had been eating at me since I woke up.

"What's on tap today?" I asked.

"We're observing the effects of olfactory cues on gerbil activity," Jason said. "We've been assigned two scents."

Hannah read the instructions. "One: Place an aroma canister inside the cage. Two: Wait five minutes. Three: Time the gerbil's use of its exercise wheel. Sounds easy."

"Bring on the rodent," Jason said.

I loaded the first scent: wild lavender. A soothing spa-like fragrance floated into the air.

Our test subject, whom we nicknamed Herbie, sniffed the canister, then promptly curled up and checked out.

"Lavender works like Ambien on the Herb-man," Jason said.

We checked our watches. Again and again.

"Time's up," Jason said. "New aroma, please."

Hannah made the swap. The new scent was grapefruit.

"Citrus oils are supposed to promote energy," I said.

"He hasn't expended much so far," Jason said. "Come on, Herbie, kick it up for the g-fruit."

Herbie and I were on the same page. I hadn't slept well in days. My eyelids drooped, almost met.

Mistake. The room began spinning in a now familiar manner.

No! Not here!

SNAP.

Pain split my frontal lobe. Heat radiated from my chest to my limbs. My vision blurred.

I rubbed my temples, desperate to keep it together. Sweat dotted my forehead.

"Tory? You okay?" Hannah's brow was furrowed.

Lame laugh. Talking was difficult. "Just post-flu fatigue."

I rose, trying to stop the room from whirling. But my brain felt loose, as though slipped from its tether and floating free.

The scent of grapefruit became overpowering, bombarding my nose and tickling my throat.

Nausea threatened. No time for excuses. I had to haul ass.

As I began a fast break to the bathroom, movement flashed in the corner of my eye. Herbie was working out on his wheel.

My symptoms dissolved.

Suddenly, I saw nothing but gerbil.

I crouched beside the cage, eyes fixed on the little brown body chugging like mad. I could smell fur and wood chips and a secretion like musk.

A flood of saliva bathed my gums and tongue.

"Tor?" Jason placed a hand on my shoulder. "What's wrong? You need to see the nurse?"

All my senses stayed focused on the rodent.

Who suddenly noticed me.

Something deep in Herbie's brain screamed out a warning. Abandoning the wheel, he scampered to his nest.

My hand shot out, knocking the cage off kilter. Jason grabbed it before it crashed to the floor.

"Whoa! Tory, what are you doing?"

SNUP.

A cerebral door slammed shut.

The smells receded.

I shook my head, hoping to clear my thoughts.

Reality reasserted itself.

The class was staring, some openly, some pretending not to. Then the sniping began.

"Boat girl. Panic attack." Madison's whisper drew giggles from her entourage.

"She's afraid of mice," Ashley said. "They must have armies of mice on her dirty island."

It's a gerbil, you moron.

"She's just a spazz," said Courtney. "Little girls are like that."

The Tripod laughed at their own wit.

My cheeks burned with humiliation.

The heat spread from my face to my brain, triggering a second bout of nausea. I covered my mouth. Too dizzy to run, I braced, waiting for my stomach to redecorate the floor.

Hannah came to my rescue. Clasping my hand, she wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders.

"Let's splash some water on your face."