Gwen was sulking by the food court in the Plumber base, her head leaning against the table like the weight of the world was pressing down on her. She wanted to be out there with Ben and Kevin, helping them kick alien butt, but instead, she was stuck here with a stupid cold.

It hit her harder than any of the slimy, slick-back aliens they’d been dealing with last week. Hilarious.

Her finger absentmindedly flicked the side of her drink cup, the sound tapping like a metronome in the empty space. Her eyes were sore from staring, too tired to keep them open, and her chest felt like it was on fire — or maybe that was just the cold messing with her. Who knew?

“Stupid cold,” she muttered under her breath, completely oblivious to the world around her. Her thoughts were tangled up, like a never-ending loop, going nowhere and everywhere at once.

The doors slid open, probably some of the other Plumbers coming in for a snack or a break, but Gwen didn’t even look up. Her mind was too lost in the haze of fever and frustration.

Will they be okay without me? Will this stupid cold ever leave?

Her finger moved again, making the cup inch closer and closer to the edge of the table with each flick. Over and over, like she could control it — like maybe if she could just get it to stop moving, things might make sense again.