Poisoned (2 page)

Once Emily’s glass got knocked over, and Abby jumped up, but Dallas waved her back down. “We’ve got it,” he said, grabbing his napkin. “It’s just water.”

Conversation felt unnatural and phony until Ms. Carter finished taking photos and left. Then Jeri sensed everyone relaxing. Her own back ached from sitting up so straight, and she slumped in relief. Conversation flowedfreely then, although there was a lot more laughing at Dallas’ table than theirs.

Jonathan was intent on eating his own meal—two helpings of each dish plus anything the girls couldn’t finish. Between bites he asked each girl the same two questions: “Where are you from?” and “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Jeri shook her head. He must have memorized them from some old etiquette book. Couldn’t he dry up so she could hear the conversation at Dallas’s table?

Jeri caught snatches of talk about the science fair the following week. She glanced behind her, green with envy at Dallas listening so intently to Emily. She was describing “interactive brain teasers to demonstrate how parts of the brain functioned.” Whatever
that
meant!

“She has a good chance of winning,” Brooke added. “Ms. Todd said so.”

“Impressing the science teacher is one thing,” Emily said. “Demonstrating for the judges is something else.” She blushed then. “Anyway, Brooke’s entry is just as good as mine. She’s doing hers on making flowers bloom longer.”

Brooke shrugged. “My parents own a florist shop. I grew up watching them arrange flowers.”

Jonathan quizzed Abby about her brothers and sisters, drowning out further comments about the science fair. Jeri knew that the winner would walk away with a blue ribbon and a huge scholarship. Abby was competing in it too, with something about the food pyramid.

The month of May was filled with final competitions for scholarships: Abby in the science fair, Rosa’s scrapbooking project for the art fair, Nikki’s equestrian contest, and the media fair Jeri would compete in. She planned to enter her self-published sixth-grade newspaper.

The newspaper had started as a group assignment early in the school year for herself, Rosa, Abby, and Nikki. It had been an instant hit with their friends—especially Rosa’s advice column—so Jeri had decided to keep publishing it. To win at the media fair, all she needed was a zinger of a front-page article. Time was getting short to find something catchy to write about.

Finally Abby stood up. “Ready for birthday cake, Emily?”

“Sure!” Emily was the kind of plain, brainy girl you barely noticed, Jeri thought, but tonight she was almost radiant.

“Everybody stay put,” Abby said. “I’ll be right back.”

Jeri pulled the study room’s heavy drapes closed to make it really dark, and then she stood by the door. A moment later, Abby called, “Lights out!” Jeri flipped the light switch and then hurried to her seat.

Abby carried in the two-layer birthday cake with twelve blazing candles. Her face shone eerily above the candlelight. “Happy birthday to you!” she sang, and everyone joined in. Dallas laughed when Emily blew too hard on the candles, spraying bits of melted wax across the cake.

Within fifteen minutes the entire cake was gone. Both boys ate two pieces. Emily escaped up to her room with the remaining chunk of cake, saving it for a midnight snack. Then the boys’ ride back to Patterson arrived, and Abby walked Dallas and Jonathan to the door, thanking them for their help.

After they left, Abby closed the door and collapsed against it. “I’m bloomin’ tired,” she said. “Hurray for paper plates.”

“I’ll help clean up,” Jeri said. “You did an awesome job, Abby.”

“An
A
is definitely in the bag,” Rosa agreed.

Abby and Jeri joked around as they washed and dried the cooking and baking dishes. Nikki and Rosa slumped in the breakfast nook, where Rosa flipped on the portable TV. When Jeri wiped off the table, she was surprised to see Nikki so pale.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Not really.” Nikki’s skin was an odd shade of green.

Jeri frowned. Actually, she was feeling a bit queasy herself.

Standing, Nikki grabbed the edge of the table. “I’m going to bed.” She started toward the hallway. “Oh,
man.”
She turned abruptly and stumbled into the small half-bath off the kitchen. She slammed the door shut and threw up, over and over. Jeri’s stomach lurched at the retching sounds.

“I’ll get Ms. Carter,” Rosa said. She raced up the stairs to find the house mother.

Jeri knocked on the closed door. “Nikki, can I help?”

“No,” she answered weakly. “I’ll be okay.”

Jeri looked over her shoulder at Abby. “Are you sick too?”

“No, but I didn’t eat that much. Nikki had two big helpings of everything.”

Jeri frowned.
I didn’t eat that much either.
But if Nikki didn’t stop throwing up, the retching threatened to make Jeri vomit too.

Rosa and Ms. Carter rushed into the kitchen. The house mother knocked on the bathroom door. “I’m coming in, Nikki,” she said, going in and closing the door.

Jeri, Rosa, and Abby waited in the kitchen. Abby wrung her hands. “Poor Nikki! Do you think there was something wrong with what I cooked?”

“Probably,” Rosa said. “Emily and Brooke are sick upstairs too, but not this bad.”

Jeri’s stomach cramped suddenly. “It’s not your fault. Maybe the tuna was old or something. It’ll be okay.”

It took Nikki forever to stop throwing up. When she finally spoke, her words to the house mother were clear, even through the closed bathroom door.

“Ms. Carter,” she moaned, “I think I’m going to die.”

Jeri gasped. Nikki
did
sound like she might die. Her weak voice was a far cry from her usual strong, bossy tone. The bathroom door opened, and Jeri and the others stepped back. Ms. Carter supported Nikki with one arm around her waist.

“I hate throwing up,” Nikki muttered.

“Most people do,” the house mother agreed.

“Once I get started, I can’t seem to stop,” Nikki said, an edge of panic in her voice. “I’ve always been that way.”

“Really?” Ms. Carter frowned. “What usually happens?”

“I get dehydrated, and then I get shots to stop it.” Nikki turned suddenly and stumbled back to the bathroom. She was sick again, but soon it sounded like her stomach was empty.
Dry heaves,
Jeri remembered her mom calling them.

Jeri’s stomach rolled then, and she felt sweat beads on her upper lip.
Oh no, not me too.

Ms. Carter ran to help Nikki. “Jeri, grab the small wastebasket from my office,” the house mother called. “We may need it on the way.”

“On the way to where?” Jeri asked.

“To the infirmary. I’m taking her now. If she has a history of this, there’s no point in waiting until she’s dehydrated.” Jeri ran for the little trash can and handed it to the house mother.

Abby’s face was so pale that her eyes looked like enormous coals. “This is my fault,” she whispered. “It must be the food I fixed, especially if Brooke and Emily are sick too.”

“They aren’t
real
bad,” Rosa said. “Not as bad as Nikki anyway. I’ll go see if they need anything.”

Jeri patted Abby’s arm, willing her own stomach to stop rolling. Abby felt bad enough without her getting sick too. A moment later Ms. Carter emerged from the bathroom again, holding a weak Nikki upright. “Come on, hon. Lean on me.” She helped her to a chair underneath the phone and placed the wastebasket beside her. “Use this if you have to.”

Abby’s voice was faint. “Can I help?”

“Yes, you both can. Abby, you keep an eye on Nikki while I check on Brooke and Emily and get my car keys.” She nodded at the list of numbers posted over the phone. “Jeri, you call the Patterson School for Boys. I need to know if Dallas and Jonathan are sick too.” She hurried off upstairs.

Fighting her rolling stomach, Jeri dialed the boys’ school. She explained what she needed to know, then waited on hold. When the headmaster came on the line, he assured her that the boys were fine—at least, so far. “Thank you for alerting us,” he said. “Tell Ms. Carter I’ll be in touch if they get sick.”

Jeri hung up, relieved.

Nikki sat hunched over the wastebasket, her hair hanging over her face. Jeri fished an elastic band from her pocket and loosely braided Nikki’s hair to get it away from her mouth—just in case. Thirty seconds later, she was sick again.

Abby handed her some tissues when she finished. Jeri’s own stomach lurched as she went to rinse out the wastebasket. If only she could keep from throwing up! Bitter-tasting bile rose in the back of her throat, and she swallowed convulsively.
Please, God, not me too!

Ms. Carter returned then, a purse over her shoulder. “Let’s go, Nikki. And don’t worry, girls. The infirmary has good people on staff.”

“Oh, the headmaster said Dallas and Jonathan are fine,” Jeri said.

“Good. I’ll call Miss Barbara from the infirmary. I’m so glad we have a doctor and nurses on the campus.” Ms. Carter pressed her lips together. “I think Brooke and Emily are done being sick, and Rosa will sit with them till we get back.”

Tears rolled silently down Abby’s cheeks. “It’s all my fault!” she said. “It has to be.”

“Oh, honey, don’t,” Ms. Carter said, wrapping her arms around Abby. “It’s
not
your fault. If the food was tainted, it was an accident. For all we know, there’s a fast-acting virus going around. The doctor may be able to tell us.” She peeked in the refrigerator. “Just in case, put the leftovers in a plastic bag and throw them in the garbage can outside.”

“Okay.”

Ms. Carter helped Nikki to her feet. Nikki’s eyes glazed over as she leaned on the short house mother. “I’ll call you girls when there’s news,” Ms. Carter said.

Jeri turned to Abby. The tiny British girl who had so happily carried in the blazing birthday cake two hours ago stared with frightened eyes. “It’ll be okay,” Jeri said. “Try not to worry.”
Please, God, let Nikki be all right,
she prayed. A wave of heat rose up her face.
And don’t let me get sick. Please!

Abby wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “I think Ms. Carter’s just being nice,” she said. “My cooking must have made everyone sick. But how?”

Rosa came in then. “Maybe you didn’t cook the meat enough,” she answered.

Abby frowned. “I was upstairs changing when you ate the little meatballs. Did they taste funny?”

“No,” Jeri said firmly, glaring at Rosa behind Abby’s back. “They tasted great. Rosa ate a ton of them, and
she’s
not sick.”

“I didn’t eat a
ton!”
Rosa protested. “But, yes, I ate four or five, and I’m fine. Maybe it’s something else. Once my mom’s potato salad made everyone sick at a picnic because the mayonnaise got too warm. Maybe the cream cheese in the tortilla swirls was rotten.”

“Or maybe it’s a
virus,
like Ms. Carter said,” Jeri repeated, aggravated at Rosa. Couldn’t she see how bad Abby already felt?

“If it’s a virus, it came and went fast,” Rosa said. “Brooke and Emily felt better as soon as they threw up a couple times.”

“Okay, okay.” Jeri swallowed convulsively. “Could you talk about something besides throwing up?”

“Sorry. How about a game while we wait?” Rosa suggested. “Cranium? Cards? Maybe Outburst?”

After Abby tossed out the leftovers, she and Jeri followed Rosa into the study room, and they pulled two games from the shelf. Suddenly Jeri’s throat felt constricted, and she couldn’t swallow. Heat rose in waves from her chest to her neck and face. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “I … want to change into pj’s.”

Abby raised an eyebrow, but Jeri forced herself to smile as she left the room. Once out of view, she took the stairs two at a time and bolted down the hall to the restroom. She barely made it to a stall before losing every bit of food she’d eaten at the party. Jeri thought the retching would never end. Finally the spasms in her throat lessened, and her stomach settled down.

She sat back on her heels, wiped her sweaty face with a wad of toilet paper, and hauled herself to her feet. At a sink, she dampened a paper towel and washed her blotchy skin. By the time she changed her clothes and rejoined Abby and Rosa, her flushed face had returned to its normal color.
Good,
she thought.
Abby will never know.

Thirty minutes later, Miss Barbara returned with the rest of the sixth graders who lived in Hampton House. Abby jumped up immediately and asked if any of the girls had been sick that evening.

“No. Not a soul.” Miss Barbara flowed into the room, her billowing caftan making her look elegant in spite of her size. “Ms. Carter called the bowling alley and told me what happened.”

Three girls pulled up chairs to watch the Cranium game in progress, and the noise level rose. “Let’s wait for news in my room,” Jeri said, giving up her spot in the game.

“Good idea.” Abby led the way upstairs. “What if Nikki has to stay in the infirmary?” she asked. “What if she’s too weak to compete next Saturday?”

“The show’s still a long ways off. Don’t worry yet.”

The year’s biggest equestrian competition was next Saturday afternoon, a week away. Nikki had brought her thoroughbred, Show Stopper, to school with her, and they competed in all kinds of horse shows. If Ms. Carter would let her, Nikki would gladly live in the barn.

At 9:30, the phone rang, and Jeri grabbed it on the first ring. Ms. Carter said Nikki was finally better—aftergetting three different shots to stop the vomiting. Because she was slightly dehydrated, the doctor was keeping her overnight and giving her fluids by IV. “There wasn’t enough left in Nikki’s stomach contents to test, but the nurse suggested food poisoning,” she said.

Jeri pressed her lips together.
Food poisoning
sounded horrible. She wished she could skip that part of the message to Abby.

When she hung up, Jeri relayed the message, saying “spoiled food” instead. When they finally went to bed, Jeri curled into a ball, pressing her hand against her sore stomach.
Thank you, God.
She was grateful to feel better, but the word resounded in her brain:
poisoning.