Fed Up - By Jessica Conant-Park & Susan Conant Page 0,18
at all. Consequently, I ended up in the waiting room with Josh, Digger, Robin, and that damned Nelson, who’d followed the ambulances to the hospital, which was a small one that I’d never heard of before. Marlee, who’d felt increasingly worse, had been hustled into the exam area as soon as we’d arrived. Nelson, camera in hand, was lurking near the entrance. The rest of us were sitting together. Josh and Digger were, as usual, talking about food, but not in the way that chefs typically do.
“Dude, it can’t be the food. You know that,” Digger tried to assure Josh. “All the stuff you cooked would take time to produce symptoms like this. Food poisoning wouldn’t come on that fast and kill somebody. You know as well as I do that it takes, like, six hours at least before you’d get sick. If this was E. coli or something, none of us would be feeling anything right now.”
I saw a flash of relief cross Josh’s face. “You’re right. You’re right. I’m just so freaked out, and I can’t help feeling like this is my fault somehow. I mean, I fed Francie, and then she died! I don’t know everything about food poisoning, but I think there are a few kinds that can produce symptoms in a hour or two. I wish I had my ServSafe books with me,” Josh said.
“It’s a program,” I informed Robin. “ServSafe trains kitchen workers in safe food laws, safe practices.”
She spoiled my sense of being in the know by saying condescendingly, “I already know what ServSafe is, thank you very much.”
“Josh,” I said, “Marlee was saying that she had blurred vision. I’ve never heard of that being a symptom of food poisoning. That’s neurological, isn’t it? Blurred vision?” An unwelcome thought occurred to me. What if the problem was not food poisoning, but poisoning? Just poisoning. My stomach clenched in knots. I hoped the doctor who must now be examining Marlee would figure out what she had and would inform the rest of us. “Robin,” I asked, “how are you feeling?”
“Been better, but at least I’m not heaving up Josh’s food. And you?”
“I’m okay. I’m just shaken up, I think.”
I glanced at the desk, only to spot Nelson leaning against it. A second later, a nurse noticed him, too, and in an undertone ordered him to turn off his camera. I couldn’t hear her words, but her irate expression suggested that she was threatening fearsome consequences.
I saw Robin smile. “I should hire her.” She rubbed her stomach. “So, Chloe, talk to me about something. Anything. Distract me from my screwed-up stomach.”
“Well, I’m going to be performing a wedding ceremony in a few weeks.”
Robin perked up. “You are? Who are you marrying? I mean, who are you helping get married? That’s so cool. How can you do that?”
Although I was a little reluctant to give Robin credit for a good idea, it did take my mind off the present nightmare to think about my best friend Adrianna’s wedding to Owen. “All I did was go online, print out an application from the state, and fill out a form. It’s called a one-day marriage designation. The application had to be approved by the governor, except that I don’t think he has to do it personally. And then I got my Certificate of Solemnization. So now I can marry Adrianna and Owen!” That didn’t sound right. Unless I wanted people to think that I was about to commit bigamy, I’d need to work on my solemnization-wording skills. “Well, you know what I mean.”
“That is really neat! I didn’t know you could even do that,” Robin said. “They don’t go to church or anything? They didn’t want someone more official to preside over their ceremony?”
“No, neither of them is particularly religious, and they’re having a smallish wedding. Fifty people or so. And Ade thought it would be more personal if someone close to both of them did the ceremony. They’re writing the whole service themselves, vows and all. Of course, I’ll do my own piece, too, but it’s nice that they can control what they want in and out of the whole thing.”
“Chloe?” Josh touched my arm. “They’re ready to see you and Robin now. Digger is getting checked out already.” Josh’s phone rang. “Sorry. I have to take this.” When he picked up his call, I could make out a woman’s voice on the other end. “I can’t talk now,” he said. “I’ll call you back.” He clicked