I'm relieved the one time I'm sick it's during break. There is no way I can afford to miss a single day, or I would be set back and my grades would plummet. Maybe I'm too dramatic, but I can't depend on people to actually give me a decent summary of what I missed or expect them to have take great notes. All these years, no matter how miserable, I pushed myself to walk to school with a pack of tissues and cough drops.

It couldn't be any more ironic that I yelled at Vincent for wearing a thin shirt, when I'm the one who got sick. Though, I'm too stubborn to admit it, so I decline his offer to hang out by saying I have to take Wilbur to the vet. I said he had the flu, but I'm not really sure turtles get the flu.

Vincent: Hey, I'm at the front of your house.

Me: I told you. I'm at the vet. Wilbur's being checked right now.

Vincent: Turtles can't get the flu, unless the virus mutates, but that would take a long time. Jeez, Wendy. You take biology and you couldn't make up a believable lie?

Shoot. Vincent is better than me when it comes to biology. Well, he's better at any subject besides math.

Me: I'm on my period. Leave me alone.

Vincent: I brought food.

Me: Fine.

I roll off my tissue and mucus covered bed to slowly crawl down the stairs, taking a break every fee steps. After a while, I finally make it the door. I try to compose myself to look decent and less miserable than I was before opening the door.

"Hey," I say, my voice hoarse from a sore throat.

"I brought lasagna." He holds up a plastic bag with two styrofoam boxes inside.

I make way so Vincent can come in and he heads towards the kitchen to set it down.

"My mom accidentally doubled the recipe, so she told me to bring you some," Vincent explains, taking out a box. "I got one box for Wren and your dad, and this one is for us."

"Thanks." I start to feel better already from the smell of warm tomato sauce and cheese.

"Did you just wake up?" I'm assuming that Vincent is curious as to why I'm still in pajama pants and my hair looks like a birds nest.

"Sort of."

"Sorry if I woke you up."

"No, I was already awake. Just didn't get out of bed yet."

Shoot, I didn't even brush my teeth yet. I probably have to do that before I eat.

"You're sick aren't you?"

"Is being in my period considered being sick?"

"You don't think I know you had your period two weeks ago?"

"No, I don't, because that's creepy."

"I'm just trying to be aware so I can supply you with snacks and not get on your nerves," Vincent says defensively.

"How did you know?"

"You sat wierd."

"You know I normally sit?"

"Of course. I'm the president of the Wendy Lee fan club."

"Wow, I was right about the creepy part."

"It's a healthy obsession."

"Let's just eat."

"So you are sick?"

"Yeah," I sigh.

"Ha, and you told me I needed a jacket," Vincent smugly pokes.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm hungry."

Vincent splits the huge piece of lasagna into two and place each one on a plate. I immediately start to dig it once he slides to towards me.

"Where's your dad?"

"Somewhere. No one was home when I woke up."

"Oh. Nevermind."

"You know something." I suspiciously eye Vincent and he uncomfortably looks down at his plate. I could tell by the way he sped up his words and glanced at the ceiling.

"What would I know?"

"I don't know. But you're hiding something that has to do with my dad."

"Wendy, just eat."

"How are you so close with my dad?"

"What do you mean?"

"You watch sports with him, and he invites you to dinner. Even on weekdays! You even come over when I'm not here."

"I come over to see you, but when you're not home I stay for a bit."

"A bit? You mean three hours?"

"Why, you don't like it?"

"No, it's not that... I'm just scared I'll be used to you coming over and then you suddenly won't."

"Wendy, I'll always come over to raid your food and steal your dad." Vincent's words are meant to be comical, but he says it with such sincerity.

"You better or I'll stab you with a dirty fork," I hold up my sauce covered utensil to warn him jokingly.

Afterwards, I bury myself back under my germy blankets to nap. Vincent comes up into my room after he finished the dishes with a stick of celery to feed Wilbur. I peek out to check on them periodically. Vincent sits on the floor, next to me, while playing on his phone. Wilbur slowly works on eating his celery. Sometimes, Vincent pinches a pieces off and let's Wilbur grabs it from his finger since the celery is too crunchy. My heart melts at the sight of someone who cares for Wilbur as much as I do. Slowly, I melt into a sleep as well.

Groggily, I probe my hands around for a bottle or glass of water, but there isn't any. My sore throat got worse and my tongue was dry and parched so that I couldn't yell for someone downstairs. Making my way to the stairs, a conversation grows more prominent.

"Yeah, I do like Wendy," says a voice I assume to be Vincent.

"She doesn't like you?" says Dad, who sits on the couch holding a soda while he stares at the coffee table.

"No."

"Why? Did you make her mad or something?"

"Maybe. I don't know. She says she only wants to be friends."

"Maybe that's my fault. I don't let my daughters date and I made that pretty clear chasing guys away from Wren."

"What about Wendy? Did any guys ask her out?" Vincent asks, seemingly a bit panicked.

"No. Don't get me wrong. Wendy's a great girl. Of course she is, she's my daughter," Dad chuckles, taking a pause to sip his soda. "I guess she's not really bold or outgoing like Wren for her to get anyone's attention. I love them both the same though and they're both great."

"Yeah, Wendy's cool. I'm stupid for not noticing it earlier."

"You can't really blame yourself. Heck, I don't even notice when she's home or not since she's no quiet."

"So, do you know if Wendy likes someone?"

"If she did, she sure as heck wouldn't tell me. She didn't tell me she was sick, today."

"Oh." Vincent sinks back into deep thought.

"You know Vincent, if she did like you, I'd approve. You're a good kid and I know what you look like and your name, so I can assassinate you if you make her upset."

"You two are so weirdly similar. She threatened me with the same thing."

"Yeah," Dad laughs.

"So I can date Wendy?"

"Sure, of course she has to say yes and I have rules that are very awkward to say out loud, but sure."

"Yeah... I don't think she likes me like that."

"Vincent, I know my daughter. And if there's one thing I know about Wendy, she's a turtle. So slow and dense in the head and always bottling everything up. She might not even realize you like her unless you're direct. She's book smart but when it comes to everything everything else, she's totally dumb. Plus, she never says how she feels and just keeps it to herself. She might like you, but just doesn't say it. You never know."

"You think so?"

"I can't guarantee that she does, but all I know is that she seems to be more outgoing around you and happier. Even if she doesn't like you, at least be her friend."

"I will."

"Thanks. Wendy thinks that I don't know, but I know you're her only friend right now. I haven't seen her girl friends over, so I think something happened. Look out for her, okay?"

"I will."

"Thanks, Vincent. I better go pick up Wren now." Dad heaves a grunt as I gets up from the couch and shuffles out the door with his keys. Once the door shuts, Vincent makes his way up the stairs.

I could've pretended to have just woken up, but by eavesdropping on their conversation, I felt so guilty and awkward from what I heard. Swiftly, but quietly, I sneak back into my bed and make myself to look like I was still asleep. Trying to keep my composure, I put on a relaxed face as I head Vincent's footsteps approaching.

The bed presses down slightly from his weight. His thumb presses on my cheek and draws slow and gentle circles on them. He tucks my lose strands of hair behind my ears and pulls my blanket up further to cover my shoulders. I take a sharp intake of air as Vincent's breath brushes and rolls across my cheek. I feel a familiar sensations of dainty pillows on my forehead, but they are only there for a fleeting moment.

"I really hope you're a turtle."