Chapter 92: Sick Sophia

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Lucas

By the time we returned to the University Gymnasium, the female host was done announcing the list of winners.

Sophia and I won Second Place, which came with two plaques containing award certificates. The First-Place medals, plaques, and trophy were given to Bryce. Only his photo was taken because Stacy was not present.

Everyone came up to me and Sophia and congratulated us. We were immediately swarmed by blinding flashes of cameras and our friends and classmates: Cole, Liam, Matt, Jeff, Noah, Emily, and Spencer. When Miles, Dylan, and Selena approached my brown-haired brother to praise him, they also asked about their friend and block-mate, Stacy, but they got no reply from Bryce.

I craned my neck to look at Sophia. She kept a small distance next to me,but if she had it her way, she'd probably extend the gap between us, if it weren't for the crowd squeezing us in.

Her skin seemed pale, I observed.

For the past twenty minutes, she's been ignoring me, shunning me in every way possible. So when she abruptly turned to meet my searching gaze, my heart jolted as if she tasered me.

"Lucas," she mumbled.

I stared into her weak brown eyes. She looked so tired. "W-what?" I stammered. Was she finally going to talk to me and let me explain?

To my, and everyone's surprise, Sophia suddenly hugged me, her arms tight. "Lucas.. I can't take it anymore." Her strong facade had faltered, and her breathing was shallow.

People started to panic at the sight of her hyperventilation.

Sophia told me her chest felt constricted. She couldn't breathe and she began to sweat profusely. She said she was losing her vision, and she couldn't even speak properly.

In my distress, I swept her legs off the floor, scooping her frail body in my arms.

A random student exclaimed: "Someone call 911!!" But I was already carrying her down the stairs and out of the marble building.

"Fuck. Not again," cussed a tall male in his school uniform. He had black hair and hazel eyes. I didn't notice anybody was tailing after us. I scrutinized the teenager running alongside me.

Dale Cruz.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I snapped as I deposited an unconscious Sophia in the passenger seat of my white Mustang.

I hurriedly wore the seat-belt on her. I urgently slid behind the wheel.

"Two years ago," said Dale after I ignited the engine. "When Sophia confronted me on our high school graduation, I was walking away from her when I heard a loud thump behind me. She had collapsed, so I brought her to the clinic. She's sicker than you thought, De Los Reyes."

"I don't have time for this," I said through gritted teeth.

"You're right, we don't," agreed Liam Garcia. The tall blond in his college uniform shamelessly got inside the backseat of my white car. I ignored him and drove to the nearest hospital.

We arrived at Lourdes Hospital in ten minutes.

Once we entered the prestigious building, at least five nurses aided Sophia onto a gurney and ushered her into the Emergency Room.

Liam and I waited on the bench outside the ER. He suggested we try to contact Stacy, to tell her what happened, but her number was busy. She must have turned off her phone.

We each called her ten times, and texted her incessantly. But she wasn't answering.

I bowed my head, clutching it between my hands, as I heard Liam talking to Sophia's parents on his phone.

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