Chapter Text
“Oh, my poor girl.” Jo McGuire cooed over her daughter as she rubbed the girl's back. “I hate seeing you like this.”
Lizzie McGuire finished spitting into the bucket beside her bed and laid her head against the pillows once more. “I hate feeling like this.” She muttered, her voice hoarse and pathetic even to her own ears. “I’m going to kill ‘em.” She declared with an exhausted sigh.
“Kill who, honey?” Her mother asked as she pulled the trash bag from the bucket and tied it closed.
“Whoever did this to me. I’ll kill ‘em.” Lizzie repeated as she took the cool washcloth that her mother was holding out to her. “Patient Zero. If this flu doesn’t kill them, I will.”
Her mother laughed as she moved the hand Lizzie was holding the cloth with towards her forehead. “Hold it there. I’ll be right back.”
Lizzie nodded, instantly regretting the movement as her vision blurred and her stomach churned. She unfolded the washcloth and spread it over her forehead and eyes. Yep, she’d kill whoever it was that started this alright. And then she’d get the whole city quarantined and sanitized before anyone stepped back into that petri-dish they called a high school.
She ran the tip of her tongue against her teeth and winced at the taste and feel of her most recent bout of sickness. With a shaking hand she reached towards her bedside table where a glass of water was waiting. Water had been the only thing she’d managed to hold down for the last twelve hours and she was thankful for the bit of relief it provided. Well, at least until the last few moments. She felt the brush of cool glass against her fingertips and reached out just a little further. Unfortunately, she knew immediately that she’d reached too far as she accidentally pushed the glass towards the edge of the table.
“No, wait!” A voice exclaimed from across the room. “Let me get that for you.”
Her arm dropped instantaneously as a wave of exhaustion hit her. It felt as if she had been fighting against sandbags tied to her limbs. Every movement a struggle. Every head nod, itch, even breath she took, seemed to deplete what little energy she had remaining within her body. With a groan she pulled the cool cloth away from her face and looked up into a pair of kind, gentle blue eyes. Despite her misery she felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips.
“Gordo, what are you doing here?” She attempted to push herself up into a seated position but he laid a gentle palm against her shoulder and pushed her back into her pillows.
“Down, sicko. Your mom gave me explicit instructions that I was allowed in here but only if you stayed in bed.” He pulled her desk chair across the floor and settled himself into it beside her bed.
With a hand far more steady than hers he picked up the glass of water again and held it out to her. She attempted to lift a hand to the glass but the sandbags were heavier now. She wondered why Gordo couldn’t see them, their ropes pulling relentlessly at her joints as she tried to move. She shook her head slightly, “Nah, I’m okay.”
Gordo rolled his eyes and moved the chair closer to her. “Here. I’ll help you.”
She hesitated for a moment, hating the idea of making him help her with such a simple task but the taste in her mouth was making her feel sick again and she didn’t quite have the strength or motor skill to hold the drink herself. She nodded briefly, grimacing once more at the movement.
The position was awkward but she managed to lift her head up just enough for Gordo to hold the glass against her lips and slowly let her drink. First she swished away the taste in her mouth before taking a longer, more refreshing sip. When her head began to fall back to the pillow Gordo moved the glass away.
“Better?”
“Thank you.” She said softly, taking a few deep breaths to settle her stomach before turning her head to face him fully. “So, I ask again, what are you doing here?”
He placed the glass on her bedside table and turned to pick up the backpack he’d dropped at the foot of her bed. “You weren’t at school today and I got, you know, worried I guess. The flu seems to be taking a shot at everyone and I figured you were next on its hit list.” He dropped his head and began to dig through his bag. Lizzie could have sworn she saw a bit of pink touching his cheeks as he turned out of her line of sight. “I figured I’d stop by on my way home. And, um, make sure you’re okay.”
Lizzie smiled softly at him, at least, she hoped it was a smile. She felt as if there was a decent lag between what her brain wanted to do and what her body was capable of right now. “That’s really sweet.” She said quietly. Yes, there it was, that was definitely a blush across the boy’s cheeks. “So, how is Miranda?”
“Fine. Yeah, she’s fine. She said she’d call you later to check in on you.” Gordo finally found what he’d been searching for in his bag and pulled out a couple sheets of paper and a book. “Seems she and I are some of the few that are staying ahead of this thing.”
“Good. I hate seeing you sick.” Lizzie murmured around a yawn. Gordo looked up at her then, a shadow of a smile tugging at his lips. It was something small, just a slight turn up at the corners, but it seemed to extend beyond that. Like his whole body softened in that one moment. Over the years he’d sent this smile in her direction many times and truth be told, it frustrated her. After seventeen years of friendship she thought she could figure out every expression her best friend made but there were still a few out there that needed a name. This was one of those.
She cleared out her throat with a quiet cough before nodding to the papers and book in his hand. “So, what’s all that?”
Gordo held out the stack as if to give it to her before realizing she couldn’t take it. “I uh, I brought you your homework.”
Lizzie groaned and lifted the cool washcloth back up over her eyes once more. “You’re supposed to be making me feel better, Gordo. Not worse.”
The cloth was pulled away from her eyes and she glared at Gordo’s sheepish look as he placed in on the bedside table. “It’s not that bad. Isn’t it better to try to get some work done while you’re stuck in bed rather than on a day you’re healthy and you’d rather be outside or at the mall with Miranda?”
Lizzie grumbled something incoherent and she even wondered if they were words herself but she glared at him with a look that clearly said “Fair point.” His smile brightened as he picked up the first sheet of paper.
“You didn’t have anything from Econ but Peters did give us some worksheets for Biology. You also have some for your Sociology class.” He placed them one after the other onto the bedside table. “And your English teacher is a funny one, isn’t she? She said you’re excused from all of the normal work but that she’s assigning anyone that’s sick a book to read. She said it’s what her mother used to do when she was ill as a kid.”
“A book?” Lizzie glanced between him and the book in his hand incredulously. “I have to read a whole book? I don’t even have the energy to hold a book right now. How is that supposed to make me feel better?”
Gordo just shrugged and turned it around so she could see the cover. She groaned again as she closed her eyes and imagined hiding her head under the pillows. “Anne of Green Gables? Couldn’t she have picked something from this century?”
He turned the book back towards him and flipped through a couple of pages. “It’s supposed to be a classic. My mother loves it.”
“So does mine. Pretty sure that means I’m not supposed to.”
Gordo chuckled as he continued to flip through the pages. “I don’t think you’re required to love it. You’re just required to read it.”
“It’s not bad enough I’ve been puking my guts out for twelve hours but now the torture is extended to having to read that? Teachers really are cruel.”
Gordo grimaced as he looked down at the empty bucket beside her bed. “Thank you for that lovely image.”
Lizzie chuckled, more a short exhalation of breath than anything else. “If I wasn’t so tired I’d smack you.” With a groan she attempted to roll over onto her side but couldn’t quite get the momentum. She jumped as she felt a cool hand against her elbow helping her roll over.
“You okay?” Gordo asked, worry clear in his voice as he searched her face.
“Yeah, just, trying to get comfortable.” She settled back against the pillow once she'd managed to turn over onto her side. She cradled her cheek in the palm of her hand and pulled her knees up closer to her chest. A wave of exhaustion washed over her and for a moment she closed her eyes and willed the feeling away. She didn’t want to fall asleep, not just yet. When she opened her eyes again she was surprised to see Gordo watching her, his own worried gaze scanning her as he bit his lip.
“I should go.” Gordo’s voice was soft and sweet and, she thought, maybe a touch regretful. With a burst of energy she hadn’t expected she reached out and placed a hand on his knee to still him.
“Please don’t go.” She said with quiet urgency. She knew she was borderline begging but couldn’t stop as the words continued to fall from her lips. “I feel horrible and you- you make me feel better.”
She bit her lip and lifted her hand away from his knee as she felt a warm flush spread up her neck and into her cheeks. Now she knew for sure that there was a delay between her brain and her body as she screamed at herself to look away but couldn’t bring herself to do so. She watched as the obvious wheels in his head spun and he silently debated with himself.
Finally he sighed and turned the chair back towards her. “Ok. I’ll stay. But you’re supposed to be reading this book.”
“How am I supposed to read it when I can barely stay awake for this conversation?” She said with a scowl as she pulled her blanket closer around her and snuggled into its warm embrace.
He pondered her question for a moment before dropping his shoulders in a resolute sigh. He kicked off his shoes, turned the chair, and swung his feet up onto the bed beside her knees, one ankle crossed over the other. Lizzie watched him in bewilderment as he settled in and opened the book onto his lap.
“If you can’t read then I guess I’m just going to have to read to you.”
Lizzie’s mouth dropped slightly as his own opened to begin the tale. “I’m not a child, Gordo.”
He turned to look at her and once more she saw the soft, sweet smile he’d given her a few moments before. “I know you aren’t. But I hate seeing you like this and if reading this book to you is something I can do to help you feel better, to help take care of you, I’d like to do that.”
For a moment they held each others gaze. Although Lizzie was not fond of the idea of what equated to being read a bedtime story by her best friend, she couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through her at his words. Finally she nodded gently as she snuggled deeper under the covers. “Thank you.”
Gordo nodded and turned back to the book in his hands. He cleared his throat and began, “Mrs. Rachel Lynde lived just where Avonlea main road dipped down into a little hollow, fringed with alders and ladies’ eardrops, and traversed by a brook that had its source away back in the woods of old Cuthbert place…”
Lizzie felt her eyelids growing heavy as Gordo’s calm voice filled her head and rocked her gently to sleep. His words were a warm blanket, wrapping her in comfort against her illness. She tried to fight against the pull of sleep but as darkness embraced her she sent out a little bit of thanks to Patient Zero.