Fed Up - By Jessica Conant-Park & Susan Conant Page 0,15

ambulance! Now!” I reached and almost punched Leo on the leg. “Go! Call nine-one-one!”

“Chloe, shut up!” Robin called out. “Cut the hysterics!”

“This is an emergency!” I insisted. “Call an ambulance!”

Robin, apparently addressing Leo, said, “Well, now we know why Francie thought the food tasted bad. She was obviously coming down with a stomach bug. That norovirus thing. Is that what you call it? And she was starting to feel sick.”

“Josh?” I called out. “Josh, are you okay? Can you get to a phone? Please! Please call for help!”

Josh cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m all right now, I think.”

I looked down at Francie, whose eyes were now shut. “Francie? Francie?” I rolled her onto her back and shook her. At first she appeared to be unconscious, but when I leaned my ear against her chest, I didn’t hear the ragged breathing anymore. “Francie?” I was yelling now, repeatedly saying her name in the vain hope of rousing her. There was no response from her. Nothing. Nothing at all.

FIVE

I practically had to leap over Josh to get out of the bathroom. Then I flew down the stairs, my heart racing and my vision nearly blurred. All I can remember is being hell-bent on getting to the phone that I remembered having seen on the wall near the stove.

When I burst into the kitchen, I almost slammed into Digger, who grabbed me by both arms. “An ambulance is coming,” he said. “What the hell is wrong? Is Josh okay? He ran out of here so fast.”

“He’s sick, too, Digger. I’m really scared,” I said. My eyes began to water as I leaned into his chest. “I think Francie is dead.” I was almost whispering. “I have to sit down.” I was starting to feel queasy myself. Maybe Leo had been right about opening a window. The sickening odor seemed to cling to me. Or maybe fear was wrapping my stomach in knots. Digger led me to a chair just as Josh entered the kitchen. He now looked more grim than ill, and I thought that I knew why: if Francie were still alive, Josh wouldn’t have left her alone.

I found myself sitting next to Marlee, whose presence I hadn’t even noticed. She was rubbing her forehead with one hand. Her face was pale and damp. “My stomach is really hurting,” she said. “I’ve got terrible cramps, and I think I might throw up. Is there a bathroom downstairs?”

Digger moved the trash can next to her. “In case you don’t make it to one,” he said. “I might need it, too. I could hurl any second. I think we’ve got food poisoning.”

“From the way I feel, you’re probably right,” Marlee agreed. “There’s got to be a bathroom down here. Leo?”

For the first time, I noticed Leo, who was leaning against a wall as if propping himself up. He looked frozen in place, and his face was blank.

“Leo!” I said sharply. “Is there a bathroom downstairs?”

He shook himself and pointed to a doorway. “Through there.” Sounding like a robot, he added, “I’m going back upstairs. Maybe I can . . .”

“Here, Marlee, I’ll help you.” Robin took Marlee’s hand and led her out of the room.

As I watched them leave, I noticed to my horror that Nelson was standing in the dining room doorway with his face hidden behind his camera.

“Nelson, turn that camera off!” I demanded. “Stop it! This is no time—”

“Cannot do. I’m filming reality here. Raw reality! This is great!”

Glaring at him, Josh said, “Yeah, this is a great, Nelson. It’s goddamn perfect.”

“Nelson,” I said, “the average rock would have more sensitivity than to film us right now. Turn the camera off! Unless you want me to grab it and shove it—”

Josh interrupted me. “There’s the ambulance. You hear the sirens?”

“Yes,” I said. “Thank God.”

I’d somehow expected help to pour in through the back door, but when the doorbell rang, Josh went through the dining room, opened the front door, and took charge of directing the newcomers upstairs to where Francie lay on the bathroom floor. I felt certain that she was dead, but medical personnel and the police could hardly be expected to take my word for her condition, and there still remained a chance, I told myself, that I was wrong. The possibility made me feel guilty: what if I’d abandoned Francie when my presence might have comforted her?

While I could still hear the sounds of feet pounding up the stairs, Marlee reappeared from the bathroom. Her color was worse