*
Two hours later, the medicine still hadn’t kicked in. My head continued to throb, but I had to go to choir.
Choir was in the small auditorium, in a domed building adjacent to the main body of the school. It had been replaced by the large auditorium sometime in the nineties, and the old was given to the arts program. It was dark and dreary, and the seats were hard wood instead of the plush cushions of the new auditorium, but the choir students liked it for its character.
I walked down the aisle, and Mrs. Lopez looked up from behind the podium. Her black hair was pulled up in a severe bun. It looked a little strange since her long locks were usually down in loose waves. “You feeling okay, Rylie? You don’t look well.”
“I’ve had an awful headache today,” I said truthfully.
“Do you want to just go home? You should rest your voice if you’re not feeling well.”
“No. Adam is my ride, and he’s at baseball practice anyway.”
“Well, if you want to just sit in the chairs and watch, that’s fine with me.”
“Thanks, but I think I want to try and sing.” I didn’t like letting Mrs. Lopez down. She was my favorite teacher.
“I like that attitude, Rylie.” Mrs. Lopez smiled broadly. As the final trickle of students came in, she asked, “Do you want to do your solo first? Get it out of the way?”
I nodded. “Sure. Thanks, Mrs. Lopez.”
I walked up the stairs to the stage and gripped the microphone stand, adjusting it to the perfect height. Mrs. Lopez took a seat at the baby grand, her fingers splayed across the keys, and nodded at me as she began playing “Someone Like You” by Adele.
I sang through the song twice, hitting every note with ease. Singing is my passion. When I sing, I feel free, and everything else seems to fade away. Even my headache and the nightmare were forgotten.
“Excellent,” she praised. Concern marred her brow. “Now, go sit down and watch. You look so pale.”
I knew she was probably worried about me coming down with something. Our end-of-year concert was quickly approaching, and my solo was one of the main acts.
“Thanks,” I said, relieved. I walked to the back of the auditorium. Every step felt like someone was banging something hard against my head. I sank down into one of the chairs and let my head fall to rest on the back of the seat. It was dark and cool. Closing my eyes, I listened to the choir sing.
“Hey, beautiful,” Adam’s voice whispered in my ear a while later.
Opening my eyes, I saw his handsome face in front of me. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“You okay? You don’t look so good.”
“Headache.” I groaned, annoyed that it was still there.
“I wish I could take it away for you. Are you ready to go home? You look like you could use a nap.”
“A nap sounds wonderful.”
He held out his hands. I took them, and he pulled me to my feet. My head swam, and I leaned into him, waiting for the sensation to pass.
“Rylie?” His voice was low, worried.
I waved him away. “I’m fine. Stood up too fast.”
As we walked to his truck, he rubbed the back of my neck with the fingers of one strong hand.
“That feels good,” I murmured, stretching my neck side to side as he worked the muscles.
“Probably a tension headache. Anything bothering you?” He opened the passenger door and helped me climb in.
“Not really. I mean nothing major is going on.”
He shut my door and circled the truck to get in on the driver’s seat. As soon as he was settled, I slid over to sit in the middle so I could rest my head on his shoulder. My eyes fluttered shut.
“Ry?”
I opened my eyes. It felt like it had only been seconds, but I realized we were already in my driveway.
“Do you want me to come in?” he asked.
Oh, how I wanted him to. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing the pain away. When it didn’t magically disappear, I gave him a sad smile. “Yes…but no. I think I need to go lie down.”
“Okay.” He slid from the truck and came to help me out of the seat. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
There were starbursts in my vision by the time we made it to the front porch. I couldn’t grasp my keys; my fingers felt numb from the migraine. Adam took them gently from my hands and opened the door.
I let my backpack fall to the floor just inside the door. I’d get it later, when my head felt better. Adam rested an arm around my waist, and we trudged slowly to up the stairs.
“Have you taken anything?” he asked as he helped me pull off my shoes. “Ibuprofen?”
“A couple hours ago,” I mumbled. “I just need to close my eyes.” I fell to the cool pillow, barely registering as he settled the covers over me. My upper back was killing me, and I didn’t know why. I couldn’t remember doing anything to hurt it. Maybe I slept on it wrong or something?
His warmth disappeared momentarily, and he came back with more Tylenol and a glass of cool water. “Take it.”
The ones from earlier certainly hadn’t worked. I tossed back the pills, and then handed him the glass.
Adam kissed me on the forehead, brushing his fingers across my face as he said, “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.” I smiled. I was such a lucky girl.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I opened my eyes long enough to watch him leave, and then curled up on the mattress, hoping the pain would go away.