I was right about being ill and stayed in bed for an interminable time. I thought of school and didn’t much care. Zoe came to mind, and I wondered if she might be worried. I’d seen how she looked at me and knew she still cared. There was a part of me that hoped she’d care enough to come by, but that was madness. Apart from anything else, I’d made it clear I didn’t want that.
There seemed to be no point between feeling as though I might die and being well enough to get up. I stalked into Mum’s room with the sole purpose of looking at myself in her mirror, pausing in the doorway, feeling inexplicably uneasy. A fragmented thought came to mind. I was afraid of seeing what the mirror showed. It didn’t make sense, of course, but my feet were pinned. Behind me, the house was silent. I couldn’t even hear the sound of the TV.