Denial of the Fittest

Blair Warner wasn’t going to throw up.

She had been tossing and turning for hours, trying to ignore the sickly feeling that was building as the time passed. She hated vomiting. Surely, she thought, Countess Calvet never vomited. It was unbecoming and humiliating. She thought of the word barf and shuddered. No, it most certainly wasn’t ladylike at all, and she wasn’t going to do it. 

She took a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling of the bedroom that she shared with her schoolmates. Her eyes fell toward Jo, sleeping soundly in the bed next to her, snoring slightly (although she’d deny it if told). She looked cute, actually (although Blair would deny it if asked). She was wearing her favorite pinstripe pajamas and had her arms up by her face. Her ponytailed hair managed to drift across her closed eyes. Jo, she thought, has the sharpest green eyes.

Blair felt her nausea reach its ultimate peak and her heart began to quicken along with it. The last time she had been this sick had been before she even came to Eastland. She had cried, then. The whole thing wasn't just ugly; it was terrifying. She was always so cool; always so in control. 

But, what if I have some terrible disease? she pondered to the ceiling. What if it’s appendicitis? Laurie Shoebush got appendicitis last year. She nearly died…

She felt slightly faint, like it was a thousand degrees in the room. 

“Jo?” she found herself whispering to her roommate out of fear, before sitting up in bed and leaning over to shake her from sleep. “Jo,” she repeated more forcefully. 

Jo groaned and opened her eyes, bleary and annoyed. “What is it?” she whispered impatiently.  

Blair felt as though she were rocking on a cruise ship. A cruise. That would be lovely. That would be so sophisticated. But, the feeling wasn't from being on a cruise. This is actually going to happen, she realized. I’m going to throw up and die of appendicitis. “I’m sick,” she whispered back, her voice shaking and shameful. “I feel dizzy. Will you go with me to the bathroom?” 

Blair figured that Jo would look angry, but she didn’t, really. She looked confused. “Are ya alright?” she asked quietly, sitting up. Was that — was she actually concerned?  

But, there was no time for dialogue. Blair shook her head furiously. “Please, Jo. Just come with me? I’m scared.”

Jo still didn’t exactly know how to handle conversations with Blair that didn’t include jokes, put downs, or witty banter. “Okay, come on,” she sighed, getting up from her own bed. “Should I get Mrs. G or something?”

“No!” Blair whispered urgently. “I don’t want anyone else to know about this.”

She turned and rushed out of the door, with Jo trying to keep pace behind her. When the girls reached the restroom, Blair sat down in front of the toilet and mentally tried one more time to will herself not to be ill. Jo shuffled awkwardly in the doorway while Blair's stomach did somersaults. Jo was seeing her like this. Why had she brought Jo in here? She’d never let her live this one down…

Her body replied to her pleading to stay in control by immediately rejecting everything that she’d quite possibly ever eaten in her entire life, bystanders be damned. She started to cry, sniffling and — heaven forbid — sweating. Her hair was sticking to her face. Was there no end to this self-imposed torture? Her body swiftly rebelled once again, but this time, just as quickly, cool hands brushed her heated blonde locks off of her face. 

“Let me get ya hair,” she heard Jo say softly. “You’re alright.” Since when was Jo soft? She wasn’t supposed to be, but it was her hands that moved to the nape of Blair’s neck, keeping her hair together for her while she did the unmentionable, unmentionable things.

When the horrible attack finally seemed to be over, Jo released Blair’s hair and reached for a hand towel. She silently soaked it under cold water in the sink before handing it to Blair and saying uncharacteristically gently, “For your face.”

You don’t wash your face with hand towels. The notion was positively barbaric, but Blair took the towel without comment and dabbed her flushed face as she sobbed. 

Jo sunk down next to her. “Blair, you’re gonna be alright,” she repeated. She placed a hand on Blair’s shoulder. 

"This is so disgusting," Blair replied tearfully. 

         Stifling a laugh, Jo shook her head. "It's alright," she said again, rubbing her shoulder.

         “What if I’m dying?”

“Come on,” Jo groaned. “You’re not dying. You probably just have a stomach virus. Or, maybe ya ate something weird. I don’t know. But, you’re not dying.” She stood up. “I think you could use some water.”

Blair peeked out from behind her hand towel. “What? No!” she exclaimed desperately. “You can’t leave me.”

She turned back to the toilet and, dramatically, was abruptly sick once more. Jo sighed and returned to lifting her friend’s locks away from her face. 

And, she was her friend. Her best friend, these days, probably. Although, if you asked, she’d deny it. They both would. 

“No one else got sick,” Blair mumbled, sniffling and embarrassed, when she finally felt ready to speak. “Why did I get sick?”

“Blair, it’s probably just something going around. It happens.” She rubbed her shoulder once more. “You feeling any better after all that?”

“I don’t know.” She sniffled again. “What if it’s appendicitis?”

“Does your side hurt?” Jo asked, humoring her. 

“No,” Blair said quietly, feeling scolded. “But, my stomach does.”

“Well, yeah, of course your stomach hurts.” Jo put her hand on her forehead, sending a shiver through Blair. “You don’t have a fever. Pretty sure you would if you had appendicitis.” She looked into Blair’s eyes. So green, Blair thought. “You think you can go back to the room now? Will you let me get you some water?"

Blair froze in place. “What if I get sick again? I don’t want everyone to see me…”

“Blair, they’re your friends and we have one bathroom. They’d eventually find out about it.” Jo tilted her head, peering at her closely. “Why’d you want me in here with you, anyway?”

Blair swallowed. Why did she? 

“Because I was scared,” she answered honestly. “I felt faint. I didn’t want to be alone. I hate throwing up and I thought maybe you wouldn’t judge me.”

When Jo didn’t answer, Blair continued. “I know we joke around a lot and insult each other, but…”

Jo looked down at the bathroom floor, avoiding eye contact as she helped Blair to stand. “Come on,” she said quietly. “Let’s stop at the kitchen and get you some water. I promise, no one is gonna judge you.” Jo looked up at her, finally, trying to face her own emotions. She was so bad at emotion. It’s like the feelings came and she wanted to run away or hit someone or something. Holding hair was one thing, but emotions…“Blair, you’re human. I know that’s hard for you to believe. And, for me to believe. But, ya are, and that’s okay.” 

Blair smiled slightly, despite herself. 

        “You don’t feel like you’re gonna faint anymore, do you?” she asked, offering a hand to help steady her. 

“Not really. I'm just weak." 

“Well, I could have told ya that.” 

Blair laughed, knowing Jo was trying to make her feel better with their familiar dynamic. Jo handed her some mouth wash, helping her clean up for a moment before protectively guiding her into the cafeteria. Blair waited at a table, resting her head on her hands while Jo got her a glass of water. When Jo returned, she paused, seeing Blair with her head down at the table. She tapped her shoulder. “Just take small sips,” she instructed, handing her the glass of water. The continued, uncommon gentleness of it all made Blair tear up all over again. There hadn't been one real insult in an hour. 

They headed back to the room, Blair still slightly weak from being sick and leaning on Jo for support. Tootie and Natalie were still sound asleep, as though nothing had even happened. Jo pulled back the covers of Blair’s bed and ushered her under them. “You want me to put a trash can by ya bed or something?”

Blair whimpered. It was all so unbecoming. “No,” she refused. “I think I’m alright now.”

Jo looked skeptical. “Alright,” she sighed, climbing back into her own bed. They were both silent and then Jo hesitantly added, “Look, if you start to feel sick again, just wake me up, alright? You probably won’t be going to class tomorrow, but I bet it’ll be over in 24 hours, tops.”

“Thank you, Jo,” Blair said quietly. “For everything…”

“You’re welcome, Blair. Just get some rest, okay?”

“Yeah,” Blair agreed, closing her eyes. 

         Jo left her last class before lunch with an arm full of Blair's homework. She had been collecting it all morning.  Actually, the teachers had been handing it to her without a word as though they just assumed that she'd be the one collecting it. Although, if one of the teachers had asked, she would have told them that, no, she certainly wasn't collecting Blair Warner's missed assignments.

          People kept asking her about Blair, too. Teachers. Students. It was ridiculous.

         Blair had been sick all night and into the morning. Mrs. Garrett, Natalie, and Tootie fussed and fussed over her. She was the complete center of attention, so that probably helped soften her embarrassment. If there was one thing that Blair Warner relished, it was being the center of attention, negative or not. Truly, though, Jo felt bad for her. She'd deny it, of course. But, she did. Blair kept getting  sick the entire time that the girls were getting ready for the day. Jo had been the one to hold a cold washcloth to her forehead while Natalie and Tootie quickly brushed their teeth and styled their hair in the little shared bathroom. It was wild, but what were they supposed to do? Mrs. Garrett let Jo miss the cafeteria shifts, since she was running so late by the end of it all. "You're a good friend, Jo," she had told her.

     When Jo made it to the cafeteria for lunch duty, Mrs. Garrett smiled at the armload of papers in her hands. Natalie and Tootie were already standing behind the counter, ready to serve food. "Oh, you got Blair's assignments for her? How nice."

      "Yeah," Jo sighed, resigned. "Do you mind if I run it up to her real quick?

      "Of course not." Mrs. G smiled. "Take your time. She'll be happy to see you. I think she's feeling a lot better."

      "Good...I'm glad," Jo said quickly, turning and heading toward their room.

     Blair was in a silk night gown and propped up on pillows, intently watching a small television that Mrs. Garrett had brought into the room for her. Blair and her soap operas, Jo thought.

     She did look better. Less pale. Upright. "Hey," she said, holding out the stack of assignments. "I got the work you've missed so far. Still half the day to go. Miss one day and it's like you've missed the year."

    Blair groaned. "Great," she said sarcastically, but then smiled. "Thanks."

   "Eh, don't mention it." Jo sat down at the foot of Blair's bed. "I didn't even ask for any of it. It was handed to me by everyone. Everyone asked about you, too."

   "Oh?" Blair's face changed. "What did you say?"

   "Don't worry. I just said that you had a headache."

   "Oh," Blair repeated, looking relieved. "Thank you."

   Jo shook her head. "It's none of their business, anyway." She gestured to her. "How are you feeling? Mrs. G said that you're doing better."

  "Yeah, I am. I still don't feel great, but I haven't gotten sick since this morning."

  "Well, I would hope so. I don't know what you'd have left to throw up," Jo attempted to tease.

  Blair didn't laugh. She looked down at her hands and then back up at Jo.

  "Hey, I'm just kidding," Jo said softly. "It's alright, really. And, see, I told you less than 24 hours and you'd be good as new. Well, as good as you can be." She tried teasing again.

 Blair looked sheepish. "I want to apologize," she said, still not looking up at Jo. "You held my hair, cleaned me up...I'm really embarrassed and you really took care of me."

  Jo rolled her eyes. "Blair, you don't have to apologize. It's not like you could help it. Well, unless there's something you're not telling us."

  "Jo..."

  "What?" she answered, annoyed with the sentimentality of the conversation and determined to find her way to their old dynamic. Why emotions?

  "Thank you."

  Jo sighed. Again with the emotions. Fluttery feelings. "You're welcome," she said softly, nodding. She stood up quickly from the bed. "I have to get back downstairs and help everybody with lunch."

  Blair nodded furiously. "Yeah, of course."

  "Uh, do you need anything? Do you feel like trying some soup?"

 "Maybe just a little," Blair agreed. "What's on the menu today, anyway?"

  Jo grinned. "Mystery meat!"

  "Ugh," Blair groaned. "Please, please don't bring me any of that. I'll never be well again."

  "We'll stick with a light broth," Jo promised, laughing and heading toward the door before turning around. "I'm glad you're feeling better," she said softly.

  Blair smiled widely, looking pleased.

  Jo closed the door behind her and headed downstairs before Blair had a chance to respond further. After all, if she responded, she'd have to deny it.