Down With a Cold

short story by Lizzie

It wasn’t as though Nosedive wasn’t accustomed to sleeping in. He came from a long line of late-risers on both sides of his family. Wildwing’s “Get-Up-at-Dawn-and-Tackle-the-Day-Head-First” attitude was probably one in about a hundred zillion in the Flashblade family. So it should have been so surprising that it was past 10 on a Saturday and he was still in bed.

Except his throat was sore, his glands were swollen, his nose was running, and he had a fever higher than Dragaunus in a bad mood.

14 days. I’m not sure I can live with this another 14 seconds, he thought after going into another coughing fit. The teenage boy was absolutely miserable.

Not for the first time, Nosedive wondered how a kid from another universe could come down with one of Earth’s incurable diseases. Oh, well, moaning and groaning wouldn’t do anything except maybe make his throat hurt even more. There were probably more painful things he could be stuck in bed with (albeit he couldn’t think of any at the moment).

He hadn’t been relaxing for fifteen minutes when his nose was stuffed up again. He reached despondently for the half-empty tissue box on his night-stand. It was the third one he’d gone through that morning, and the skin on his nose was painfully raw.

Aw man, why can’t I just go into a coma for two weeks? He coughed again, and his throat burned.

After a short while, his sister came in. Nosedive noted her healthiness with a bit of envy. Seeing the concern in her expression, he tried to smile. She reached over and put a hand on his forehead. Allana must have just come back from the ice because her hands were freezing.

Wildwing pulled her hand back. Her gloomy blue eyes mirrored her brother’s in every way. Nosedive tried to smile again. “Hey,” he croaked. His throat burned with the effort. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

Wing smiled. Courtesy of the Saurian Overlords, the two Flashblade siblings had no other family but each other. So, naturally, they worried. Wildwing’s concern was more open and obvious, whereas Nosedive kept his to zero visibility. Or at least he thought he did.

Wildwing reached into her pocket and pulled out a few peppermints. “Here,” she said. “These'll help your throat.”

Grinning, Nosedive took one and unwrapped it. “Oh, boy, candy. I like candy.” His juvenile timbre was slightly weaker than usual, but otherwise normal. Wildwing had to chuckle a little.

“Well, if you need anything else,” she told him. “You know where I am. But don’t holler or nuthin.”

“Don’t worry,” he assured her in a scratchy voice. “I couldn’t holler if I wanted to. But could you get me some of that magical old wives’ remedy, please?”

Wildwing rolled her eyes. “Why can’t you just say ‘chicken soup’ like normal people?”

“Gee, I wonder.”

Shaking her head, Wildwing left the room. Nosedive sighed and lay back on his pillow, sucking on the peppermint. It cooled his throat, but only temporarily. Oh, well, it was something. He reached over to turn on his stereo. “The Call” blared loudly from its speakers.

Mallory came in before the first chorus was over. “I thought you were going to rest today!” she yelled over the music.

Smirking, Nosedive shut the CD off. Mallory came in and pulled a folding chair over by the bed. “You feelin’ okay?” she asked gently.

“Oh, yeah,” Nosedive said sarcastically. “Just fab’. In fact, I could probably just jump out of bed do ten Victory Laps.”

Mal was about to go on the defensive, when she heard Duke’s voice from out the door. “Well, I see your humor hasn’t gotten sick.”

Tanya was standing behind him. “Yeah? Who said it was ever not sick?”

Nosedive stifled a giggle, because he knew they were right. He waved his arms at his two teammates standing in the door. “Out of here, both of you.” Smirking, they left. Nosedive shook his head. “You know, sometimes I wonder if those two aren’t worse than I am.”

Mallory smiled. “Let me help you: they’re not.”

“Oh, well, thanks a lot!” Dive said with an expression of mock offense. The two rivals sat in quiet for a while. When the silence was becoming awkward, Nosedive said, “So... whadja come in for, anyway?” Mallory hesitated. “Come on, Mal-Mal, tell your buddy what’s wrong.”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong,” she said. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. And get you to turn your music down,” she added as an afterthought.

Nosedive laughed weakly, then coughed. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m a little worn out. Why don’t I get some rest?”

Mal chuckled as the young man closed his eyes. Not even the most torturing of diseases could break Nosedive’s teenage wit.

Nosedive’s breathing became slow and even. His uncombed bangs hung limply in his face. Mallory reached over and brushed them aside. His forehead felt warm.

After a few seconds, she bent down and gave him a tiny peck on the cheek. Then she left. When the door swished closed, Nosedive opened one eye, closed it, and sighed contentedly. Maybe having a cold wasn’t such a bad thing.

The End