Page 41 of Savage
“Come on, we need to get you to school,” I called, standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Iris to show her face. “Likenow.” I let out a frustrated sigh as I glanced down at my smartwatch, knowing that more than likely we’d bereallylate at this point.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Iris huffed as she appeared at the top of the staircase, looking strikingly exhausted.
“Are you okay?” I asked, instantly forgetting about running behind.
“Yeah,” she muttered, stomping down the stairs. I pursed my lips as she flew past me, heading for her backpack hanging on the wall. No matter what she said, my daughter looked like she wasn’t feeling very good.
I caught up with her at the front door and grabbed the strap of her backpack gently. “Are you sure you’re okay? Honey, you don’t look like you feel good.”
“Mom, I said, I’mfine,” Iris snapped, jerking away from me and opening the front door. “We’re gonna be late, come on.”
“Okay,” I mumbled, following her out into the dry heat of the morning. It was a little warmer than I preferred, but that was just part of this area. I hit the unlock button for the car and watched concerningly as Iris pulled open the back passenger door. She paused, her face crinkling.
Is she about to throw up?
I waited for a few tense seconds, but she climbed inside and slammed it shut. I let out a typical well-shit mom sigh and climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the engine. I backed out of the drive, already knowing there was a high chance she was going to be staying home for the day. I didn’t like pushing her to go to school when she didn’t feel well.
“Ugh,” Iris groaned from the backseat.
I glanced up to the rearview mirror, my brows furrowing as I saw her lean over, grabbing her abdomen. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” she snapped, meeting my gaze in the mirror. Sweat had beaded up across her forehead, and I was instantly thinking she might have a fever.
Damnit, I should’ve checked her before we left.
“Maybe we should just head back home.”
“No.” She shot me daggers, despite her little face growing paler by the minute. “I have to take my test today.”
“You can always make it up. Kids have to miss school all the time.”
“I don’t want to miss.”
I chewed my cheek. “Well, we’ll see. I think we need to take your temperature.”
“I’mfine!”
It took everything I had not to fight with her, but instead I just went silent, driving us the rest of the way to the school. I pulled into the parking lot, pulling into one of the parking spots since we were running late. Iris quickly unbuckled and climbed out without giving me a second glance.
“I’m going to walk you in,” I called, exiting in time to fall in step with her. She didn’t say anything—or even look at me—as we made our way to the front door. However, as we reached the crosswalk, she let out a cry and doubled over, grabbing her stomach.
“Iris!” I went for her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. “What in the world is wrong? Is it your stomach?”
“I don’t know,” she started to cry, tears pouring from her eyes. “I don’t know why it hurts so bad.”
“But it’s not your stomach?” I questioned, pulling the backpack off her shoulders. I slung it over my own before swooping her up into my arms and carrying her back to the car.
“I don’t know,” she repeated herself as I finagled the passenger door back open. “It started hurting this morning, and I don’t know why it won’t stop. I don’t wanna miss my test.”
“You’ll make up your test,” I said, fastening the seatbelt around her. “Can you point to where it hurts?”
“Here,” she sobbed, pointing to the lower right section of her stomach.
Shit.
“Okay, I think we should go see a doctor.”
“What?” she shrieked. “I don’t wanna go to the doctor! I hate the doctor!”