“Sorry, I am meeting Tina at home in a couple of hours.”

Helena stepped back, clearly surprised.  “Tina, as in the woman that is helping you work on your book?”  She asked, rubbing her face lightly, “I didn’t realise they worked on weekends.”  Neither did I Hels, neither did I.

“She said it was important and sounded rather earnest about it, so I thought I should be there.”  My voice did that strange growl which I noticed happened a lot when I was unsure.  I didn’t know if anyone else could pick up on it, but I had been hearing it more and more often in the last months.  It was like my mind and my body decided to find new and interesting ways to remind me I am fallible.

Mortal.

Human.

Helena pulled me to her, and laced her arm through mine.  “Let’s get you fed then.  We can have you meeting a hot blonde without a good meal – you’ll faint.”

“That only happened once… and it wasn’t because she was hot.  It was Ms Webster’s fault.”  I shook me head, amused by Helena’s recollection.  Ms Webster was our Physical Education teacher, and on one very hot day she decided to make us run laps.  After the first couple my legs started to feel like Jell-O, and my heart was pounding so hard and in tempo with my head.  Eventually she called us to a stop, and we congregated in front of her, waiting for further instructions.

I have no recollection of what happened next, be Helena said I step forward and threw up on her shoes before passing out cold.  I woke sometime later in an ambulance, hooked up and poked up.  Helena was sitting to my left, her hand holding mine as silent tears tracked down her face.  Watching Helena cry was always painful; to be responsible for the tears was like the ultimate sin.

Thankfully, it turned out I was suffering from heat stroke and I would make a full recovery, but the lingering teasing would likely last a lifetime.

“Sure, sure” Helena agreed, condescendingly, “Let’s get you fed, we don’t want to risk low blood sugar.  Falling at the feet of two blondes would be a little embarrassing.

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