Now I know it's not the right thing to do, and I don't promote lying but I was a kid who saw an opportunity and would take advantage of it when I could.
The only thing is I tried to take advantage a lot, like a lot a lot. So much so, if I was actually as sick as when I said I was, I'd definitely have been hospitalized.
I would perform my heart out, groaning grabbing the wall for support as I hobbled out of room. Looking at my mother with big glassy eyes as I croaked in my weakest voice, "Mommy, I think I am sick." You always had to say mommy, it signaled her motherly brain to help her offspring in need.
Like I said before, my mom is a hard worker and she didn't support the idea of staying home just to stay home. So she followed it with, "Have you checked your temperature?"
This is what had me lose many battles. I would try to think hot thoughts deserts, beaches, and so forth. Once a friend told me, that her sister put the thermometer on a light bulb to raise her temperature. Not only did it not work for me but I broke the thermometer when my temperature stuck at like 900 degrees.
So when the thermometer let me down again, mom would say, "You are going to school".
But then my fake illness would take a turn for the worse. With the prospect of school, I had now come to meet death's door. Moaning, groaning, and crying until mom got mad or gave in, it was hardly the latter.
But I was a stubborn child, and I would go to school and put on an equally dazzling performance for the nurse who was at first big fan but soon caught on too.
So, much like the Boy who Cried Wolf I too had to pay for my wicked ways.
One day in fourth grade I woke up completely miserable. The phrase 'I feel like I have been hit by a truck' was made for me that day. Not only did the driver hit me but had a personal vendetta and backed up and tried again.
I hobbled out of my room just as before, and followed the script "I'm sick." "Do you have a temperature?"
I weakly made it to the bathroom cabinet knowing this time the thermometer would work in my favor. I was convinced that I had contracted some weird exotic avian flu and my temperature would be off the charts but no, it was hardly above average.
So I pleaded with my mom weakly but she shot me down frustrated with my most recent attempts from less than a few weeks before and demanded that I get ready for school.
I used as much energy as I could muster as I went to spend my final hours with my class mates. I looked around my room, should I write a will? Stacy and Paula obviously couldn't have my toys; I would give them to my best friend Sam or be buried with them.
I wasn't mad at my mother, I felt sorry for her, she would be so sad when she received the news that her eldest child had died of the exotic avian flu at school. "If only I would have let her stay home and watch Price is Right." She would cry to TV reporters, but there would be no way for me to comfort her since I was now walking with Jesus.
As I walked to the bus stop, I would pray if I could just vomit. (Being as I'm speaking about being sick for most of this blog I don't want to write vomit continuously so from now on vomit will be referred to as tossing cookies. Paints a better picture I think.)
So any way, if I could just toss my cookies, but I've always had a strong stomach and a tight hold to my cookies. Cookies being tossed shows all those around you just how you are feeling, but like my temperature my cookies were not working in my favor.
I went to school and pleaded with my teacher to let me go to the nurse. She too had been versed in my ways and would only let me go at bathroom break.
So time had passed and now I was sure my temperature had rose. I went to the nurses office who probably did all she could to contain her eye roll.
I waited patiently for the thermometer to redeem itself, ours at home had to be broken but these were disposable old school ones with the red stuff inside they were legit.
"It's normal Amber; you need to go back to class." She said.
With teary eyes and a saddened heart, I walked the long road back to my class. How could I not be sick, I had the exotic avian flu, I had no time for this. I needed to live life to its fullest in my limited time I had left. There was nothing I could do; the "man" was working against me.
I walked into my class where my teacher was lecturing. I met the eyes of a few of my classmates who were hopeful for me. There is an equal amount of joy and envy when your fellow inmates, I mean classmates get to go home. But I could only shake my head lightly, in my injustice.
I sat at my desk, how did I get back to my comfy bed? How would I be freed from this prison?
My teacher was now standing in front of me talking about something, I'm sure it was relevant when it hit me… my cookies were ready to fly.
I am not an extrovert at all, drawing attention to myself was the last thing I wanted, but I also didn't want to share with my class my cookie tossing abilities. So I quietly at first tried to get her attention
"Umm, excuse me."
Nothing.
"Excuse me."
Again nothing, but I'm sure she heard me. I raised my hand.
"Yes, Amber?" She said, I could hear the annoyance rising in her voice.
"May I go to the bathroom, please?" I said in my most polite voice.
"Amber, we just went to the bathroom."
"I know, but I went to the nurse’s office. I think I'm going to be sick."
Now she could not hide her irritation, "You are fine Amber; you are not going to be sick."
I was, much like love when you know you know…you know. But how was I going to convince her? My window was closing the cookies they were a-rumblin.
I quietly freaked out, could I run past her? I'm not one to fight the power what if she chased me? What if she didn't, how would she know that the cookies had been tossed?
There was no more time to think something had to be done, and quickly. With the teacher still standing in front of me, I ran to the trash can.
And uproariously with great force I tossed my cookies. I tossed them as if it was confetti in a parade and I was the grand marshal. I tossed them like I was professional cookie-tosser Olympian and I was determined for the gold.
Coincidently, I also had a big audience of fourth graders who in disgust cried "Ew!" in unison.
But I didn't care I turned to my teacher and with the mostly satisfied weak smile I said, "I told you I was sick!"
When my mom came to pick me up from school, I walked proudly out to the car for I was untouchable. I was the sick fourth grader with exotic avian flu and had placed gold and cookie tossing.
-Amber
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