"Come on, Isabella, get up. We'll be leaving for the airport in an hour." my mom called from out in the hall. Once I didn't respond, my mother walked into my room and got a wide, shocked look on her face. "You're not out of постель, кровати yet?" she gasped, walking over to my постель, кровати where I lay.
"I'm not getting up today," I mumbled, pulling the blanket over my head. "I'm sick."
Mom crossed her arms and pulled the blanket off. "Sure," she сказал(-а) sarcastically.
"No, I'm serious. I think it might be cancer."
Mom rolled her eyes and grabbed my hands. She pulled me out of постель, кровати and onto the floor, dragging me.
"Help!"...