I liked touching him on purpose.
When the buses parked at the high school, Drew was burning up again. It had been about four hours since he took a pill. I dug more of the clarinet stash from my pocket and gave him a drink out of my cooler.
Clearly he was in no shape to drive him-self home. I would ask Luther to give him a ride. But by the time we climbed down the stairs of the empty bus, almost all the cars had left the parking lot.
A nd then I had a better idea. Dad was on call, which meant that he might be at the hospital delivering a baby. If he was home, though, he could start Drew on antibiotics. Drew would still be sick tomorrow at 8 a.m., but at least he might be on the road to recovery, with the edge taken off the fever. Not stupid-sick like he was now, and getting worse.
A llison was asleep in the passenger side of my car. Without arguing with me, Drew stretched out on the backseat, and I drove to my house.
When I parked in the driveway, A llison got out of the car and wandered over to her house without saying good-bye or taking her stuff. Her bags and boots and sequined leotard and tiara sat in the passenger seat like a pool of melted majorette. Drew didn’t wake up.
Inside the house Dad dozed on the couch with the Weather Channel on. I pinched him a little harder than necessary, and he started up. I explained the situation with Drew.
“I can’t just give him an antibiotic,” Dad said. “He has to take a strep test first.”
“Do you have one on you? Come on, Dad. They’re my germs. It’s my fault if he gets a three-twenty on the critical reading.”
I followed Dad as he grabbed a flashlight from a drawer and walked out to the car. When he opened the back door, Drew still didn’t wake up.
“Drew,” Dad said gently.
Drew opened his eyes and sat up. “Hello, Dr. Sauter.”
I wondered how Drew knew Dad. Of course, most people did. Dad and A llison’s dad were well known. They’d delivered half the town.
“Open your mouth and say ‘ah,’” Dad told him. He used the flashlight to peer into Drew’s throat. “Good news,” he said, clicking the flashlight off. “You’re not pregnant.”
I was horrified at Dad for the stupid joke. It was bad enough that he was an obgyn. He didn’t have to go around reminding people.
But Drew laughed. A nd laughed. A nd laughed. He was really sick.
Dad rolled his eyes and closed the car door. “Does he live across town? You can’t take him home. Let him borrow your car. Your mother will take you to get it tomorrow.”
“I don’t think he should drive, Dad. He’s comatose.”
“Well, you’re not driving him. It would be past two before you got home.”
“Can you drive him?”
“Hell, no. I’m on call.” Being on call made him testy. “He can stay in the guest room.”.
“What about the antibiotic?”
“Maybe. I’ll call his mother.”
How embarrassing. “You don’t even know his mother.”
“She’s my patient. I just saw her yesterday.” He went into the house.
I opened the car door again. Drew had fallen asleep sitting up.
“Drew,” I said.
Slowly he opened his eyes and turned to me. His expression changed. I recognized that dark-eyed look. It was the same look he’d given me last Tuesday at practice, when I accused him of being innocent.
I understood what the look meant now. Drew wasn’t innocent. He was anything but.
Ever so briefly, I thought about what it would be like to make out with a feverish Drew in the backseat of my car.
I might have tried to find out, too, if Dad hadn’t been just inside the house, on the phone with Drew’s mother.
“Come on.” I took Drew’s hand and pulled.
He didn’t budge. Instead, he pulled me, and kept me standing beside the car.
I thought he might pull me into the car. He couldn’t quite decide.
He swallowed, and winced.
“You’re sick,” I whispered.
He slid off the seat and let me lead him across the driveway, into the house, and onto the living room couch. When we sat down next to each other, I released my grip on his hand.
But he didn’t release his grip on mine.
A nd then he moved his thumb up to the tip of my thumb and down the other side.
A chill washed over me.
He reversed direction and moved his thumb to the tip of my thumb again, down into the sensitive hollow between my thumb and finger. Up to my fingertip and down the other side. Up to the next fingertip and down the other side. Over and over, all the way to my pinky, where he reversed direction and did it again.
I stared at my hand open to his hand. I glanced up at him once, but he was watching our hands too. So it wasn’t some kind of feverish spasm. He knew what he was doing.
I could hear Dad still talking on the phone in the kitchen. I willed Dad to stay on the phone for a really long time. I stopped breathing every time Drew s thumb neared my fingertip. A nd each time his thumb dipped into the hollow between my fingers, a new chill washed from my face, down my neck, down my arms, and all the way to my toes.
A beep sounded as Dad hung up the phone. I jerked my hand back into my lap.
Dad walked into the living room. “It’s a go,” he said. “Drew, you look better.”
A nd just like that, it was over. Dad found Drew an antibiotic, and I gave him a glass of water. Then I prodded him toward the guest bedroom. He stretched out on the bed without looking back at me, and without pulling down the covers. He was already gone. There didn’t seem to be much point in suggesting that he take off his Vans. I found another blanket in the closet, covered him, turned off the light, and left the room, closing the door behind me.
A nd stood there staring at the closed door. I was like an amputee who still thought her missing leg was there. I could feel his cheek on my thigh and his hand on my knee and his thumb tracing up and down the outline of my hand.
I should have hated him for his snarky comment when we first got on the bus: If it weren’t for you, there wouldn’t be a problem. I should have hated him for making me feel like Mini-Me. I knew he just had a fever, he was out of his mind, he wanted some lovin’, and I was convenient. If he really liked me and wanted to date me, he would have broken up with the twin by now.
I knew all this. A nd he still had me lit up like the Fourth of July. In September.
I went to my room and changed into pajamas. Then changed into different pajamas. A ctually stood in front of the full-length mirror to see what I looked like in pajamas. I was going crazy.