Read Online I Love I Hate I Miss My Sister by Amelie Sarn - Free Book Online

o’clock.
    “How’s it going?” she asks.
    I fill her in, telling her what Mrs. Desbeaux said. Sofia doesn’t comment.
    “Everybody is talking about you, of course.”
    I shrug. “It’ll pass.”
    “Maybe, but right now you’re the most popular person at school!”
    I don’t even want to know details. I just think that if everybody is talking about me, then Djelila must know what has happened. She hasn’t come to see me.
    “I have to go,” Sofia says. “Do you want something?”
    My stomach is crying out for food, but I shake my head.
    Sofia leaves. I’m grateful that she didn’t try to make me change my mind.
    “Hey, psst! ”
    I turn around. It’s Djelila. She’s hiding behind the shelves and signals me over.
    “What are you doing here?” I ask.
    “I just heard about you.”
    “I guessed that. Why are you hiding?”
    “I was afraid they wouldn’t let me talk to you.”
    I smile. “I’m not under house arrest yet,” I tell her.
    Djelila takes two apples, three pieces of cheese, and four or five slices of bread out of her jacket pockets and deposits them on the table. From where she stands, Ms. Fleury can’t see us. Fortunately.
    “I thought you’d be hungry, so I picked this up in the cafeteria,” Djelila says.
    “Thanks.”
    “You’re not too afraid?”
    “Actually, I am.”
    Djelila hugs me and puts a hand on my scarf. I almost forgot about it.
    “Can you still meet me at four?” she asks.
    “Yes, four o’clock at the Hanky. I’ll be there.”
    Djelila winks. “Good. And I’ll visit you again later on.”
    “OK. But don’t worry about me.”
    “Of course I worry about you, Sohane. You’re my big sister.”

I, too, was worried—worried about you, Djelila.
    Your friends haven’t left. I can hear them whispering on the landing.
    I have not moved.
    Maybe because I can’t move anymore.
    My mind is swimming with memories that weigh heavily in the pit of my stomach and prevent me from moving. My arms, legs, head—my entire body is as heavy as lead. I could stay here. I could stay here forever.
    There was a period when you were about eleven or twelve when you were often sick. Never anything serious, but with a high-enough fever to make Mom keep you home. At night, you coughed and I would get up to hold you in my arms. You nestled against me. I would put my hand on your forehead.
    “I’ll get you a glass of water,” I would say.
    Before bringing it to your lips, I would press it against your cheeks to cool them.
    “Thank you, Sohane,” you managed to say before a new coughing fit started.
    I was scared for you. When you dozed off, I tried to stay awake to check on your breathing, but I ended up falling asleep too.
    In the morning, you were calm. Usually you were asleep when I left for school. I knew that Mom had already used all of her sick days and couldn’t stay home anymore. She had to go to work. She wasn’t absent long, just between eleven and three o’clock, for her job at the hospital. So I would come back home at lunchtime. I devised a system so I could sneak out of school without being spotted. At twelve sharp, I dashed out of class so I’d be the first to reach the cafeteria, but I didn’t eat. On my tray, I put things that would fit easily in my pockets—bread, cheese, fruit—and then I slipped out and ran as quickly as possible away from school. It wasn’t too difficult, because at that time of day the supervisors were busy checking on the cafeteria and schoolyard. I ran all the way home. I was out of breath. You were waiting for me. You knew I wouldn’t let you down. We ate together on your bed and I told you what had happened at school. You laughed and coughed. I put my hand on your forehead, just like Mom would have done, to make sure your temperature hadn’t spiked. I gave you your medicine, and then I ran back to schoolso I wouldn’t miss my first afternoon class. We never told anyone. It was our secret.
    Now it is only mine. And it is heavy, so