You Can't Eat Your Chicken Pox, Amber Brown by Paula Danziger

Author:Paula Danziger [Danziger, Paula]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101660607
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2006-09-07T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Eight

“Amber Brown,” I say to myself in the mirror, “you’ve either got pigeon pox or chicken pox.”

They’re not bug bites.

I kind of knew it but I kept hoping it wasn’t happening.

Going back into the living room, I lie down on the sofa bed and try to figure out what to do next.

I miss my mother.

Aunt Pam is asleep in the bedroom.

I’m not sure that she’s going to know what to do. After all, she’s never been a mother.

My father is in France. He’s never been a mother, either.

Some fathers are good when their kids get sick but my dad always just got nervous and let my mom take care of me when I got sick.

And I feel sick.

I itch.

A lot.

My eyes hurt.

My head hurts.

I’m having trouble swallowing.

I think I have chicken pox down my throat.

My entire body hurts.

I feel like I was run over by one of those wrong-side-of-the-road drivers and now I am road pizza.

I wonder if I’m just imagining things.

I wonder if it’s the jet lag people always talk about, the time difference problem.

I don’t think, though, that people with jet lag get spots all over their bodies.

I wonder if those pigeons did give me some terrible disease.

I wonder if there really is something called pigeon pox and if I’m going to die.

Here I am in London and I’m sick.

I wonder if there are doctors in England.

I wonder if my mother is going to have to fly over here immediately.

I wonder if my father is going to have to fly here immediately.

I wonder if my chicken pox will bring them together.

I wonder if I’m ever going to stop itching and feeling so rotten.

I look at my body again.

There are spots all over me.

Closing my eyes, I try to go back to sleep.

Maybe this is all a bad dream, a very bad dream.

No use. I can’t sleep.

I open my eyes again.

It’s no bad dream.

It’s my worst nightmare, only I’m awake.

I want to scream.

So I do.

“Aunt Pam . . . . . . . . . HELP! ! ! ! ! ! ! !”

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