"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 bett yet?" she gasped, walking over to my bett 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 sagte sarcastically. "No, I'm serious. I think it might be cancer."