Jesse awoke that morning feeling perfectly fine, if not a bit of fatigue from staying up late fixing his car the previous night. His beloved, yellow Porsche had broken down some time ago, and Jesse figured it had something to do with the engine, but his father refused to let him take it into the shop. Jesse had decided that he could simply drive the Ferrari, but his father wanted to use that one to work, instead of taking the Mercedes Benz like usual. He also refused to let Jesse take any of the other cars; his father always knew how to push his buttons, and his mother was no help on the subject. He had exhausted himself last night, and as he had no idea how to fix the car and didn't want to make the situation worse, he went off to bed with it in the same condition it had been the past couple of days. No matter, Jesse would just call his chauffeur to take him to school. Still, he'd much rather drive himself. 

He sat up in his bed and stretched, observing his haphazard appearance in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. Outside his room he could hear his mother's small voice telling him it was time to get up, then her soft footsteps scurrying away. Jesse couldn't figure whether his estranged mother's behavior was comical or just sad, and he didn't want to think about it. He got out of bed, crossed the large room and entered into his personal bathroom to get washed up. Everything from the ceiling to the floor, to the tub to the toilet, was sparkling clean, as he had expected it. He knew there was a slight possibility that his father would make him clean his own bathroom in addition to all the other things he was forced to do, and his spirits became even lower. 

After a nice, long, hot shower, Jesse got dressed into almost identical clothes to those he wore the day before. The only visual difference was that the golden-colored vest was now a blue one. He fixed his collar and combed back his hair from his face, taking note that it was getting a little longer than he liked. When he exited his room, a maid was standing there with his backpack and coat in hand. He smiled at her that smile that always looked pained, though she did not meet his eyes and stared down at her feet. It was like this every morning. There was no difference. 

That was until he was seated in the backseat of the chauffeur's very spacious, very elegant, very concealing vehicle. The sickness hit Jesse first with a sharp stab to his stomach, that shocked him so much he bent over forward, clutching it tightly. After a moment, it resided and Jesse figured it was just an ache for having missed dinner last night and breakfast this morning. He relaxed, taking a glance at his chauffeur to see if the man had noticed. Nothing, clueless. Jesse sighed and leaned back in his seat, checking the time on his Galaxy. There was a lot of traffic, but it looked as though they would get to school in time. 

Not too long later, Jesse felt another lurch of pain, this time in the back of his head, and he groaned. What was wrong with him? The pain blinded him temporarily, and he felt his temperaure rising to an unbearable degree. The ache in his stomach returned. "Ron, could you roll down the windows for a bit?" he asked his chauffeur. "It's steaming in here." The driver seemed a bit confused at first, but then did as he was told and rolled down the windows. 

"Would you like the top open, sir?" he asked.

Jesse shook his head, as he was in too much pain to answer, sweat running down his temple. Did he have a fever? And how did he even get one at this time of year? He was reminded of the time he felt sick after eating the blueberries that man had brought to his house, the one he saw at the facility, but he had trashed them immediately after eating them. Could it be a coincidence, or was Jesse thinking too much about it? Maybe it had nothing to do with the fruit. Maybe there was just something wrong with himself. Groaning inwardly, he simultaneously wiped his sweat with one hand, while holding his stomach with the other hand. "Um, Ron," he began, chuckling awkwardly. "What's the shortest route to the hospital?"