Chapter 0222


    “I just can’t believe this is happening,” I say, my voice breaking a little. “This is like some sort of


    nightmare.”


    “Yeah, it is,” Anton agrees, the exhaustion evident in his voice. “The timing couldn’t be worse.”


    The timing is beyond terrible; it’s catastrophic. I close my eyes for a moment, taking in the sounds


    around me—the muffled chatter of people on their morningmute, the distantughter of a group of


    teenagers on the way to school, the soft cooing of a baby.


    Life is moving on, unfazed by my little disaster. I wish I could say the same for myself. Because right


    now, I feel like I’m trapped in a motionless void of suffering.


    “Well… you need to rest, Anton,” I finally say, resigned. “Focus on getting better. This... this is just one


    of those things. Bad luck, or fate, or whatever you want to call it.”


    Property of N?)(velDr(a)ma.Org.


    “Yeah, bad luck doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Anton mutters.


    “Alright,” I say, swallowing. “Get better, Anton. See you.”


    As I hover my thumb over the red ‘end call’ button on my phone, a thought suddenly strikes me. “Wait,


    Anton, howe I’m not sick? I ate the same food everyone else did, right?”


    “You didn’t eat the seafood dish, did you?” Anton’s voice has a trace of realization in it.


    “Seafood dish?” I think back tost night. “Oh right, the one with shellfish. No, I didn’t. I’m allergic.”


    Anton’s voice tenses. “That must be it, Abby. That has to be the dish that got us sick. Someone should


    check on everyone who ate that.”


    A wave of dread washes over me. “Do you think everyone else is sick?”


    “Now, let us not panic yet,” Anton counters, coughing a little. “I’ll send a group text. To check if anyone


    else is feeling ill.”


    “You don’t have to do that, Anton. You’re sick.”


    “It’s the least I can do, Abby, especially since I cannot be your sous chef. You’re screwed, aren’t you?”


    Anton’s voice is filled with guilt.


    “Pretty much, yeah,” I admit, forcing augh. “But it’s not your fault. Get better, okay?”


    “Will do. Good luck finding someone.”


    I finally press the ‘end call’ button and stand here for a moment, shaking. Then, it finallyes out.


    “Shit!” I yell, chucking my coffee and croissant into the nearest trash can with as much force as my arm


    can muster. I ignore the puzzled looks frommuters walking by as I huff angrily, gripping my hair. It


    feels as if the universe is ying some sort of cruel joke on me, and I’m not amused.


    I pace back and forth for a few moments, thinking about who might not be sick. But then, my phone


    starts to buzz. Group texts start rolling in.


    Ethan: “Feeling like crap. Threw up twice this morning.”


    Chloe: “Same here. I’ve never felt so sick.”


    Leah: “I can barely get out of bed. What happenedst night?”


    For a moment, I almost consider throwing in the towel and pulling out of thepetition, like it’s a sign


    from the universe. New ch?pter av?ble o? NovelDrama.Org


    Karl.