Suddenly, the ice cream tasted like Pepto-Bismol and the succulent strawberries took on a shiny, grainy quality that turned her stomach. Waves of nausea rippled up her throat, and she looked over at Julie, a bit wild-eyed. “I don’t feel one bit well,” Lizzie said shakily. Julie raised an eyebrow. “We’re not expecting a baby, are we?” “No,” Lizzie said firmly. “It has to be a bug.” “Oh, but Lizzie, some bugs turn into a serious malady called pregnancy.” “I know, Mam told me that.” Lizzie was a bit miffed, sitting there feeling so terribly sick and miserable, the ice cream melting in it’s Styrofoam dish and sliding farther and farther down her lap as she held it in her nerveless fingers. Julie didn’t have to talk to her in those condescending tones, as if she was only 12 years old. The ride home was pure torture. Lizzie was humiliated beyond words when the movement of the car made her so dizzy that the strawberry ice cream churned in her stomach. She had no choice but to ask Julie to please pull over and stop as soon as she could.
