This Fanfic is intended to follow my previous story, Come What May. This is not, however, a sequel, and knowledge of CWM is unnecessary to this plot.

Paige Michalchuk had been ill for two weeks and counting, and, as she thought with a wry smile, she positively sick of being sick. Social queens didn't get sick for more than two days at a time--they just didn't. It was career threatening. A reputation disaster--and one she absolutely would not submit to.

So early one March morning, Ms. Michalchuk dragged herself out of bed following a twelve-hour sleep, put on some makeup, and forced herself to school. Falling asleep in class was less of a social faux pas than not being there at all.

She quickly made attempts at staunching the rumours--namely the one that she had gotten a certain disease that had been recently haunting Degrassi's hallowed halls, one obtained in the most disturbing of ways, if you will. She didn't even bother about the Russian spy rumour. She suspected a certain Ellie Nash was at the bottom of that one. She supposed she should be grateful, then again, the girl owed her. She'd practically saved Ellie's hiney the year before, even if she couldn't do much for her social status. Still, Paige liked the girl well enough.

By lunchtime, Paige was forced to wonder if she HAD contracted the horrible, disgusting disease. Had her darling Mattie been fraternizing with students other than herself? He quickly confirmed that he hadn't, and she knew he was telling the truth. So she dragged herself to a table, hauled out her lunch, and pasted a smile on her lips--after touching up her strawberry gloss, of course.

And then came goth-girl herself, lacking, to Paige's surprise, one certain male accessory. She was clinging on to Ashley instead, and since Ashley always sat with Paige, Ellie often did as well.

"Okay, hon, please tell me you didn't dump Sean," Paige said. "I mean, you guys make me want to throw up, but you and Spinner were, like, a million times worse."

Ellie chuckled slightly. The girl had been over the moon ever since escaping the insane asylum (well, okay, Paige though, that wasn't entirely fair) and finding her way back into Sean's arms. The two were more than odd, and Paige shuddered to think what they did in between the sheets at night.

"Sean's in the shop," Ellie said. "Trying to get caught up. He thinks he'll still be able to get his year, even after all that happened." All that happened. That was the understatement of the year. Paige wasn't entirely sure which version of the story to believe--and Ellie sure wasn't telling--but no matter which rumour was true, the couple had gone through a lot. Including a certain Spinner Mason, who Paige simply preferred not to think about.

"Well shouldn't you be with him, hon? Kissing him, handing him his wrench? PDA may not be strictly allowed, but it's the backbone of high school." Okay, so it wasn't a brilliant comment. But Paige's body wasn't feeling particularly cooperative, and saying something was better than nothing at all. She wondered how bad it would look if she were to take the afternoon off, maybe get a few more hours of sleep. After all, you fight the flu with rest, right? And obviously, this was the rottenest flu in the world. Okay, slight exaggeration. But close enough.

She let out a delicate yawn. "Well, it's been... fun. But I have places to be. Ta!" she stood and waved, forcing her trademark Paige smile onto her trademark Paige lips. Maybe tomorrow she would try mint gloss. After all, mint supposedly wakes you up, or something. Plus, her darling Mattie (my, how he hated that name) loved peppermint. So she could probably coax him into a few stolen kisses in the janitor's closet. Or the teacher's lounge, if she was lucky.

She barely made it home, thanking her lucky stars she didn't fall asleep at the wheel, and dropped onto the couch. Her bedroom upstairs was simply too far away. Her entire body ached, but that didn't prevent her from dozing off. She was too exhausted even to dream.

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"Paigey, I'm just concerned. It's been two weeks--more than two weeks. You usually recover from even the worst flus within a few days. Dr. Sanford could just take a quick look at you, and--"

"Mom, I'm fine. And I have to practice for Spirit Squad, work, get caught up on my schoolwork--I don't have time to see a doctor, let alone be sick."

"And that's the point, Paige," Rose insisted. "Visit Dr. Sanford. She'll figure out what's wrong, give you some anti-biotics, and you'll be fine. Half an hour, and it'll save you time in the long run."

Okay, so the woman had a point. And she could be more stubborn than Paige herself. "Fine. I'll let her poke and prod if it'll make you feel better. Just... Try to get me an appointment during English, okay? Kwan is brutal."

"Mrs. Kwan." The correction was automatic, but Paige merely rolled her eyes and retreated to her room, ready to maintain her social status (Hello! That's what telephones and the internet were created for) and maybe, if she was lucky, catch a few more z's.

She logged on to her preferred messaging service. No Hazel. No Terri, which was unfortunate, but not surprising. A few of her online colleagues, but they were hardly useful. Ah, there was goth-girl again. Odd, since there was no way that Sean and Ellie could afford a computer, let alone internet service. She had to investigate.

Pretty in Pink says:
el? what are you doing on here?

Shut the Hell Up says:
Can you not read? Sigh. I'm at the library. And if I may say so, Paige, you should be asleep. You looked like shit today.

Pretty in Pink says:
thanks for the compliment. coming from you...

Shut the Hell Up says:
Well, it's been a pleasure. Or something. But I'm getting kicked out of here. Back to Sean's it is. Well, not Sean's. Sean's and my place. :)

Well at least someone was happy, Paige decided. And maybe Ellie did have a point about the sleep thing. Bags under one's eyes simply aren't fashionable accessories, after all. And cover-up can only do so much. She pulled on her fluffiest pink pajamas and hopped into bed. Despite her exhaustion, it took her several hours to fall asleep.