Jeffrey Giligan staggered back into the nurse’s office. With a runny nose, a bad cough, and a fever, he looked so unwell it was pitiful.
The nurse saw him and snapped the wrists of his blue gloves against his skin irritably. “He! Vat are you doink back in here, Herr Schtudent?”
“I’b weally zig dis dibe,” Jeffrey mumbled.
“Do you take me for a dunkoff? I vill not allow you to vaste my faluable time like zis. You vill not be excused from zee school no matter how good is your acting!”
“You don’t uddewstand!” Jeffrey insisted. “I’b dot faking it! I’b weally si – si – AATCHFWOO!!”
The nurse stomped his foot. “I vill not schtand for zis! Do you know vat vould hafe happened if I had pulled a schtunt like zis back in zee var? I vould hafe been personally exekuted by zee Fuhrer!” The nurse suddenly noticed that Jeffrey had collapsed and lay shivering on the floor. He sighed. “Ach, vy do zees sings alvays happen to me?” He lifted him grudgingly onto a bed.
It wasn’t long before the nurse confirmed that Jeffrey was, in fact, sick. The boy lay shivering and coughing, barely able to move, until the nurse finally called his mother. He was released from school and she came to pick him up. Unfortunately, Jeffrey was now so ill that his mother had to carry him to his bed, so there was no way he would be able to even try to look for his old base. He lay in his bed, going from freezing cold one minute to burning hot the next, wishing there were some way to end his misery. His old body had never fallen victim to any kind of illness, so this was a new and excruciatingly painful experience for him. He mentally ran through several possible kinds of punishment that he could bring on Bradley for making him follow his stupid plan. The rodent had probably planned for this to happen and was likely laughing at him right now. Jeffrey promised himself he would never listen to another word he said. He let out a half-cough-half-sneeze and held his head as it throbbed, wondering if the long hours of torture would ever be over.