Chapter Text
Elder Price dusted off his black pants, putting on his fake smile and… threw up in the trashcan. He’d honestly rather stay in bed all day, but there was work to be done. People’s souls couldn’t be saved without the Book of Mormon, after all! He stood up very cautiously, trying not to make himself more nauseous—if that was even possible.
“Elder Price, you don’t look too good,” Elder McKinley worried.
“Well, I just– y’know… still… a bit woozy from getting punched!” Elder Price lied. “And–and I…”
He gagged, reaching for the trash can again. How did he still have food to throw up?
“Doesn’t seem like you got… punched,” Elder McKinley pointed out. “Someone had to punch you in the stomach really hard in order to make you throw up, and you don’t just keep throwing up after.”
“It was–” Elder Price vomited, bringing back the strong, disgusting taste from before.
“Maybe we should pray for you!” Elder Poptarts suggested.
Elder Price nodded slowly. “…t–th–thanks.”
“Oh gosh, we’re gonna be late for the bus!” Elder McKinley paced around, grabbing his suitcase and fiddling with the handle.
“Let’s–let’s go, I should be fine!” Elder Price quickly stood up, swallowing whatever bile could possibly be left.
“Alright then, Elders! To the bus stop!”
Elder Price grabbed his suitcase, speed-walking out of that poor old door that definitely needs replacing. It creaked so loud whenever someone opened it. Honestly, he’s surprised that his ears haven't stopped working yet. But at least he could be home, far away from Uganda and whatever he associated with it.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead, grumbling about the heat. Was the walk to the bus stop really this long? His legs felt like they were going to give out, and he wasn’t too sure about walking this much after having surgery…
No. He’s not thinking about that and he won’t ever think about it again. Honestly, he couldn’t even look at the Book of Mormon the same, and he won’t ever.
It’s fine, though. Elder Price has just been avoiding looking at himself, walking, eating—doing anything for that matter. He’s surprised the other Elders haven’t caught on yet, but that’s probably because he’s so good at masking. Acting, he means. He’s good at acting.
“Elder Price, do you need a break?” Elder Church asked, slowing down to walk beside him.
“I’m exhausted, is all,” Elder Price murmured, picking up his now heavy feet and pulling himself forward.
“The stop is close!” Elder Cunningham proclaimed. “At least I think…”
Elder McKinley’s eyes were focused on the map. “We’ve got half a mile left.”
Elder Price clutched his suitcase tighter, ignoring the stabbing, persistent pain in his legs. There was only half a mile. He could make that. Yeah! He’s done it before, what’s so different this time? Nothing! Absolutely nothing. It’s the same thing. He’s been that same, nothing happened, nothing happened to him.
The bus stop faded into view, and Elder Price was so ready to collapse on the ground. It was too hot for a mile long walk, but yet God had chosen to give them one more complication. Sometimes he swore God hated him, and he knew the others didn’t really care much about him. Gosh, this mission was so tiring for something that hadn’t lasted long.
Elder Price grabbed his suitcase and scanned the airport for his family. They shouldn’t be that hard to spot, at least for him anyways.
“Kevin!” his mom called, running up to him. “There you are!”
“Hi mom!” Elder Price beamed. “I was just looking for you, hah!”
His dad walked over, adjusting his glasses. “We’re so sorry to hear your district is now out of commission.”
“It’s fine, but where are my siblings?” Elder Price queried. “I would think that they would be here when I got home, is all!”
“Well, they’re getting ready to leave for Orlando!”
Elder Price gasped. “Orlando?”
“We decided that since you are able to go home a bit earlier we’d at least like to celebrate the 20 baptisms!” his mother proclaimed.
Elder Price felt a pit form in his stomach, and he could also feel the eyes of people on him. He might as well hear their thoughts, too. He didn’t… baptize anyone. Not a single soul. It was all Elder Cunningham. And Kevin Price, the type of Mormon that people looked up to, tried and failed.
“That’s great, mom!” Elder Price blurted. “I was gonna say it was–”
“Hey Elder Price!” Elder Cunningham called. “Goodbye!”
Elder Price waved, hand shaking—what would his parents think if they found out about the coffee, or the leaving his mission companion or–
They wouldn’t. That’s what Elder Price decided. They wouldn’t know anything. Not at all.
“By the way, in two weeks the Bishop wants you to talk about your mission, even if it was short,” his mom told him, putting her hand on his shoulder.
Elder Price flinched. “O–oh yeah, yeah, that’s great! I can work on it in the mornings and evenings. I’m sure Orlando might help me think a little, you know?”
“Yep! That’s my son, alright!” his dad laughed.
Elder Price laughed nervously, and the nauseous feeling came back. He was fine, right? So why did he feel so weird about his mom putting her hand on his shoulder? It was normal, she did it all the time! Maybe Elder Price was acting a little out of the ordinary, but still he shouldn’t be scared! Maybe after he read some scriptures and prayed and thanked Heavenly Father for keeping him alive he would feel better. He was alive, he should be thankful! But why didn’t he really feel thankful?
Elder Price should feel thankful. And he was going to—all he needed was to lay in his bed and think for tonight, think about how blessed he was to be such a devoted, great Mormon who was born into the good-willed church.
“Well now, we must head home. We haven’t told your siblings about your return, just for it to be a surprise!” his mom smiled, grabbing his suitcase and heading towards the door.
“So you just told them we were going to Orlando and that was it?”
“Yup!” his dad answered.
Elder Price walked out of the airport doors, ready to go back to his home, to the place he knew so well.