Part X (trying to start writing) "I don't feel good." Dad's busy pulling open drawers and slamming cupboards. Cole looks at him, then back to me. Worried. "Dad?" "Get yourself some medicine," he grumbles. "Second shelf." "That's cold medicine. I don't have a cold." "What do you want, then?" "My stomach hurts," I say. "Get some Tums." "I don't know where that is." "Well, find it!" he snaps. Turning to my brother, he says, "Help her with that, please. I've got a lot to do." Dad must not find what he's looking for, because he shoves the drawer shut and leaves the room. The ringing in my ears returns, along with a new feeling of heaviness and fuzziness in my head. "My stomach hurts," I say. "I know," Cole says from somewhere behind me. "I'm trying to find you something." Cabinet doors open and close. Each time one slams, a jolt runs through me. Outside the window, rain continues to come down. Light now, but it will get worse by morning. "Here," Cole says. "I found some Tums. We're almost out, though." I look from him to the pink container and stare at the label. Tums. Funny name. Sounds like the name of a teddy bear. Or an uncle. Uncle Tums. I think I'll call Henrick that next time he comes. "Hey, you okay? Julia?" My head snaps up. I didn't realize I was staring at the floor. "What? Yep. Yep, I'm good. I'm okay. Feel good, you know. Tums. That's good." My brother looks funny when he makes his eyebrows do that. I try to mimic him and laugh when I imagine how I must look. "Uh, good, I guess. Glad you're feeling better already." He puts the Tums on the counter. "See you in the morning, then." I'm still laughing as I mount the stairs. But after brushing my teeth, putting my hair up and pulling on some sweats, nothing is funny anymore. My head is beginning to throb. My vision is dotted with black spots, and my face is pale in the mirror. And my stomach is hurting even worse. I am not feeling better at all.