Pathogen, Ch. 4

"I'm telling you, Julian, I know what I saw," Marnie said, stabbing her mystery meat with her plastic fork. "It was Trevor; he's alive. I don't know how he is, but he is!"

Julian scooped up a spoonful of homemade corn chowder, wrinkling his nose before letting it plop down into his thermos again. "Look, Pistol, last night was... weird," he muttered. "We were all kinda on edge, what with Trev's body going AWOL and the break in after. It's normal for your brain to short circuit in times like that. Y'know?"

"Julian Alfredo Gonzales, I am not crazy!" Marnie snapped. "Why won't you just believe me?!"

She realized too late how loud she'd blurted the question, as the whole cafeteria went quiet for about three seconds. Julian squirmed across from her like he had cockroaches in his shorts, looking ready to crawl under the table and die. Then again, who wouldn't after someone just telegraphed to the world that their middle name was "Alfredo"?

"Look: I'm sorry, okay?" she sighed, pushing her frizzy red curls out of her face. "I didn't really sleep last night because of how... well... intense everything was."

"I'll say," Julian snorted, stirring his uneaten chowder glumly. "I thought your mom was gonna go nuclear when we got back so late. So, out of curiosity, how grounded are you? Like, do I have to wait until senior year of college to ask you out again, or-?"

"Can you focus, please?!" Marnie hissed, deliberately trying not to shout. "Us dating is never gonna happen, ever, and we have bigger problems right now than my D.O.A. social life!" She sighed heavily, pushing away her tray, then started digging for change in her backpack for the vending machine. "I need answers," she muttered, "...and I think I know exactly where to get them. Just tell me right here, right now: are you in?"

The question really wasn't fair for Marnie to ask. She knew Julian - being the lovesick idiot he was - would rob a bank if she asked him to. Although part of her wished he'd say no, she was relived when he gave a solemn nod. "Okay," he murmured. "I'm in. Um, quick question, though: what am I 'in' for, exactly?"

Before Marnie had the time to even process his question, a scream rang out across the cafeteria. She jumped a full two inches out of her seat and whipped around, just like everyone else around her, looking for the source of the scream. What she saw was Bianca near the salad bar - with vomit on her skirt - chewing out Bridgette like it was her job.

"What the actual hell is wrong with you?!" she shrieked. "Y-You did that on purpose! I know it! This outfit is brand new! Someone, get me a napkin and a stain stick! Hurry!!"

Bridgette was normally on the meek and mousey side - typical of a certified, card-carrying teacher's pet - but she didn't even try to apologize. It was weird; she just stood there, swaying in place with vomit dribbling down her chin, with this glazed donut look in her eyes. Like she didn't know where she was, or what she'd just done.

"Uh, hello?!" Bianca snapped, waving at Bridgette angrily. "Earth to Space Case, much?! Did the craters on your face infect your brain, too, or - eek!"

It all happened so fast, Marnie could hardly believe her eyes. One second, Bridgette was borderline catatonic, and the next she'd launched herself at Bianca. Both girls hit the floor together; Bianca shrieking and thrashing like she was being murdered, and Bridgette snarling like a rabid dog. It took two boys from the football team and Mrs. Snopes to pry them apart, but not without incident. By the time it was over, one of the boys - Mason Briggs - had a chunk missing out of his left arm, and Bridgette was out cold.

"Dude, she bit me," Mason groaned, cradling his arm. "Aw, man... that is so not cool! I won't be able to practice my spirals for a week!"

"I'm sure you'll make a full recovery, Mason," Mrs. Snopes said curtly. "Help me carry her to the nurse, please. Jonathan, get her feet."

"No... N-No, I'm okay," Bianca sniffed, rising shakily from the floor. "I can walk there myself."

Mrs. Snopes raised a grey, overplucked brow and adjusted her glasses. "I meant Bridgette, dear... but I suppose you can tag along too, if you feel the need."

After they watched Bridgette's limp carcass get hauled out of the cafeteria, Julian exhaled deeply and ran a hand through his crisp dark hair. "Okay... that was weird," he muttered, his eyes bulging from their sockets. "I've known Bridgette since kindergarten; she's no stranger to being picked on, but she's never done anything like that before. If there's a poster child for the phrase 'roll over and die', it's her!"

"I believe it," Marnie said, twisting a lock of hair around her finger absent-mindedly. In that moment, she did something completely out of character without even thinking about it: she got up from the table.

"Wait, where are you going?" Julian hissed, grabbing Marnie's arm worriedly.

"To the nurse's office," Marnie said quietly. "Suddenly, I don't feel so hot. How about you?"

Maybe Marnie was actually sick. In the past, she'd stuck firmly to her policy of "never get involved". Getting involved usually led to getting in trouble, and Marnie was a natural magnet for trouble. This time, though, she couldn't help it. Maybe it was just curiosity, or a kind of spider-sense telling her something here was way off. Or maybe she just wanted to find a logical reason for a jock to drop dead and rise from the grave again within two days, and for the queen of introverts to suddenly go berserk.

Whatever the reason, Marnie regretted her choice the instant they reached the door to the nurse's office. It was hanging wide open; definitely out of the norm for Thomas Jefferson High. Bianca and Mason were nowhere in sight, probably already treated and sent packing. In Marnie's eyes, it was for good reason.

Every bed inside had someone in it. Marnie didn't know them all by name, but she knew their faces: a pretty blonde girl who sat beside her in Spanish class; three of Trevor's friends from the basketball team; Bridgette, of course; and a skinny red-haired boy she'd seen being stuffed into a locker once or twice. All were unconscious with dried puke on their clothes, and all looked comfortably seated on death's doorstep.

The school nurse bounced from one bed to the next, his necktie loose and his frazzled brow broken out in sweat. "Margaret, this is bad," he said, directing the comment to Mrs. Snopes. "I think I should put in a call to a friend of mine at the CDC. We could be looking at an epidemic here!"

"Paul, keep your voice down," Mrs. Snopes hissed, her tone calm but definitely worried. A second later, her beady eyes locked on Marnie and Julian, and it was business as usual. "What are you two doing here?" she asked crisply. "Lunch hour isn't over yet."

Marnie swallowed dryly, prying her gaze away from her deathly ill classmates. "I, um... W-We were just-"

Without warning, Julian let out an unearthly moan and fell against Marnie's shoulder, scaring her half to death. "Ooh, I'm gonna be sick!" he howled. "M-My stomach... it hurts so bad!"

Immediately, Mrs. Snopes' demeanor did a total one-eighty. She raced forward right away and pulled Julian off Marnie, dragging him to a chair and stuffing an empty wastebasket in his hands. "Deep breaths, honey," she instructed. "What else is wrong? Do you feel feverish? Dizzy? Tired?"

Julian looked up at Marnie nervously, letting her know right away that he was faking and doing a very bad job at it. How he got to be the president of the drama club, she'd never know. "Uh... y-yeah?" he mumbled, sticking his face into the wastebasket with another loud moan. "Everything's spinning... I think... I think I'm gonna pass out!"

While Mrs. Snopes bought his act hook, line, and sinker, the nurse looked like he smelled a rat. With heavy skepticism, he made Julian sit up gently, pressing his knuckles to the boy's brow. "You don't seem to have a fever," he said. "Let me get my thermometer to make sure."

Julian gulped nervously. "R-Really? Um... well, that's good, right? Maybe it's just, uh... f-food poisoning. Yeah. I ate the fish sticks today, so-"

"Oh, food poisoning," the nurse nodded. "Well, if that's the case, we'd better give your dad a call. If you're this sick, he'll want to leave work - again - and take you home right away."

Julian flashed a panicked look at Marnie, clearly asking for help without saying a word. Marnie had met Julian's dad a time or two; he was a good man, as far as she could tell, but very strict when it came to his old-fashioned values. While she had half a mind to let Julian face the consequences of his monkey business, her heart wouldn't let her. Before she could talk herself out of it, Marnie dropped her backpack and collapsed on the spot in an Oscar-worthy stage faint.

"Marnie!" Julian cried, seconds before his sneakers squeaked across the floor toward her.

She kept her eyes closed to sell her act, but it was harder than she thought. Julian had never called her by her real name before. It was strange and disarming, hearing him say it now, and she didn't know why it made her stomach flutter like she'd swallowed a school of live goldfish. A few seconds later, there were arms around her, lifting her head off the floor. She knew it was Julian right away, based on the overpowering fog of black vanilla Axe that hit her in the face afterward.

"Come on, wake up," he begged, patting her cheeks anxiously. He was trying to be gentle in his heroic attempt to revive her, which was admittedly very sweet, but it still hurt. Marnie groaned softly and wrinkled up her features, peeking open an eye at him.

"Stop... hitting... me," she mumbled. "I'm okay. Just play along."

Julian's face went slack with relief, but he nodded his understanding. Marnie saw him pull his backpack closer before she shut her eye again, continuing to play possum while he cradled her in his arms.

"Please, Pistol, don't die on me!" he howled, admittedly hamming it up a little too much. Before Marnie could poke him in the ribs and tell him to cool it, something warm and unpleasantly slimy was splashed on her face and shirt.

"Augh, she barfed all over me!" Julian groaned. Marnie peeked through her eyelashes again - just for a second - and caught a glimpse of him shoving his thermos into the bottom of his backpack. For a bona-fide idiot, he could be surprisingly clever at times. "Help her," he begged, "please!"

Not a moment later, Marnie felt more hands under her back and legs, carrying her into the nurse's office. She was put down not long afterwards onto a soft surface, then covered with a heavy blanket just like the others.

"Paul, call your friend at the CDC," Mrs. Snopes sighed. "And do it quick."