A Fistful of Sky by Nina Kiriki Hoffman Read Free Book Online Page A

Mama.” I closed my eyes and curled up tight under my blankets.
    When I opened my eyes again it was much later. The room was dark. My blankets were wet through with sweat, and I felt worse than I ever had in my life.
    I fumbled for the phone, knocked my dream journal off the table, couldn’t seem to reach my aching arm high enough to turn on the light. When I lifted the phone’s handset, the buttons lit up. I dialed Claire’s old number; I knew that by heart.
    July answered. Of course, July answered; Claire had moved into her own apartment a year earlier.
    “Help,” I croaked.
    Later, a light was on. July’s warm, swarthy face, her wide gray-green eyes, short pepper-and-salt hair hovered above me. “Hey, child. Hey.” She washed my face with a warm wet cloth. My skin was burning, but that soothed it. My stomach twisted and burned. My throat was swollen and hot.
    “Thanks,” I whispered to her.
    She lifted my head, held the water glass to my lips so I could drink. “This going to stay down?”
    I drank. I waited for my stomach’s response. “Yes,” I whispered. “Thanks. Thanks.”
    “Anytime, kiddo. How’d you end up so all alone?”
    “Everybody went to L.A. I didn’t think I’d get this sick.”
    “I talked to my friend the nurse. She said there’s a flu going around, but yours is the worst case she’s heard of.
    You know you were running a temperature of one-oh-five?”
    “Didn’t know.” The room wavered. All the colors slid toward red.
    “Rest,” she whispered, and I sank down grateful into darkness.
    When I woke up again, I felt fine, and there was daylight beyond the curtains. July sprawled in a chair by my bed, her face tired and old in repose. I felt so grateful to her. I took a shower, got dressed, went downstairs and cooked a big breakfast. Was that right? I checked the
    clock after I’d made two ham and cheese omelettes with green onions and avocado in them. Noon. Hmm.
    I set the breakfasts on a tray with cutlery and napkins, coffee in white ceramic mugs, cream and sugar in Mama’s best crystal service. I took the whole thing upstairs.
    The smell of coffee brought July awake. “Oh, man! Room service! Gyp’s cooking. I love Gyp’s cooking!” We ate our omelettes with our plates on our laps in my room. “Guess you’re feeling better,” she said after she had finished.
    “Oh, yeah. Thank you so much for coming over.”
    “You’re welcome, Daughter Too.” She had been calling me that since I stayed with them after I was in the hospital. It was my secret name. She never said it in front of Claire, or her younger son Orion, only when we were alone.
    This time I cried.
    She put her arm around me and just listened.
    It turned out that it was noon on Sunday—I’d been sick all day and all night Saturday. No wonder July was exhausted. I told her to go home and get some rest and I’d come over and make her a big dinner.
    “No lie? You’re feeling that much better?”
    “Yeah. It’s over.”
    “Call me if it’s not. I’ll hang out by the phone today.”
    But the sickness had gone. I cleaned up all the evidence.
    I made July the most fantastic dinner in my repertoire, then went home and waited for my family.
    They were happy. They liked Gerry, who had adjusted well to an onslaught of LaZelles, and had even endured Uncle Tobias’s Polaroid habits with grace—I saw the pictures; the guy had actually done silly poses with various of us—true class. The family had had a great time in L.A. “How were you, Gyp?” Dad asked me.
    “I was fine,” I lied.
    monday I went back to work. It was finals week before Christmas Break, and the Learning Center was swamped with people who wanted help learning everything they should have studied all semester.
    Tuesday I took finals of my own.
    Wednesday night, after a shift that seemed twice as long as normal, I put down the headphones in the study carrel and glanced around the Learning Center.
    When had the sun gone down? Why was the place