I opened my eyes. I was in the office, and Fredward was striding past the front counter toward the nurse's door. My heart did a flip and fell over.
Ms. Crabnutt, the redheaded front office receptionist, ran ahead of him to hold it open, clearly excited about something. The grandmotherly nurse looked up from a novel, astonished as Fredward swung me into the room and placed me gently on the crackly paper that covered the brown vinyl mattress on the one stained cot. Then he moved to stand flat against the wall as far across the narrow room as possible.
"She's just a little faint," he reassured the startled nurse. "They're blood-typing in Biology IV."
The nurse nodded saggily. "There's always one."
"I had a traumatic childhood incident involving blood," I moaned.
He muffled a snicker with another, less overt, chuckle.
"Just lie down for a minute, honey; it'll pass."
"I know," I sighed. The nausea was already fading
"Does this happen a lot?" she asked.
"Sometimes," I admitted. Fredward coughed to hide another laugh.
"You can go back to class now," she told him.
"I'm supposed to stay with her." He said this with such assured authority that—even though she pursed her lips—the nurse didn't argue further.
"I'll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear," she said to me and then bustled out of the room. Nice; some Fredward time. Maybe I was wrong about this nurse.
"You were right," I moaned enchantingly, letting my eyes close.
"I usually am—but about what in particular this time?" he slithered to the side of my cot, idly toying with a thermometer.
"Ditching is healthy." I practiced heavy breathing, preparing for the day when I would be giving birth to Fredward's children.
"You scared me for a minute there," he admitted after a

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Chapter 5

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