Something I Don't Know

14: when in doubt, take magical cough syrup

I turn and thrust the drinks into Midge's hands, so suddenly she lets out a startled outburst. Then I'm on the floor, pulling Jamie up onto my lap, trying to smack him back to consciousness. His face has gone slack, though, eyes shut, forehead clammy, mouth half open and breathing shallow. We haven't lost him, which would be a relief if I wasn't worried that we will, soon.

Midge is there, craning over me. "Jamie? Jamie!" she yelps, then looks to me. "God, what's wrong with him?"

The applause has quieted, and now a band has taken Anik's place on stage, the clash of drums and the strum of guitar strings thunderous, but not nearly as thunderous as the excited shouts of the attendees. It's too overwhelming—the noise, the lights, everything. I can't think. Jamie's in my lap, cold, unconscious, and I can't think.

"I-I don't know," I manage to reply, as Safiya and River close around us, River kneeling at my side, feeling Jamie's forehead with his palm. "It happened during the speech. He just—he passed out."

Safiya glances at Jamie, his pearl white hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, then up at me, her lips pursed. If I weren't thinking about how limp Jamie is in my arms, I would probably comment on how concerned she looks—an anomaly, for someone like her. "Did he tell you he wasn't feeling well before, or anything?"

I shake my head, smacking him again. He still doesn't stir. "What do we do? What do—What do I do?"

"Well, stop hitting him, for one," hisses a voice I'm not sure if I'm more relieved or anxious to hear. My head snaps up, and Sybil's there, wearing a maroon evening gown that exposes more of her skin than I think I've probably ever seen before. The dress is extremely glittery; I have to squint to look at her.

Behind her is my dad, his face knitted with worry.

I say, "How did—"

"I brought them, Grey," says Midge, sliding around Jamie's other side, hoisting his legs up in her arms. I'm not sure why I expect her to struggle, but needless to say, she doesn't, merely lifts his legs like they're two paperback books. "Come on. We need to move him. Alvanor?"

My dad looks at her. "Yes?"

"Do you know if there's somewhere private around here? A closet, maybe, or an office?"

I don't know why she's asking him, of all people, and for a moment he looks as if he doesn't know why she's asking him, either, but then a light comes on in his eyes, and he says, "Yes. This way."

Midge nods, widening her eyes at me, and though my brain is way too muddled to function, somehow I understand what she's getting at. We hoist Jamie up between us, shuffling out of the main hall under my father's leadership, the others trailing behind us.

He turns down a narrow, shifty-looking hallway where the elevators are, and I think he's gonna tell us to all cram into one, but then he stops at a door marked employees only. He jiggles the doorknob, but it's locked, so then he just stares for a moment as if this is the one thing that has foiled his plan—God forbid, a reasonably locked door.

"Dad," I say, adjusting my grip on Jamie's shoulders. Jamie's a relatively gaunt kid, all bone and sinew, but the longer I hold him, the heavier he seems to get. I swear I see him stir, and his mouth moves a little. Midge is staring at him like she saw it, too.

"Okay, okay," Dad says. "I was just trying not to destroy anything, but—ah, well."

He lifts a foot, then kicks the door down.

It's tossed inwards in a shower of plaster and sawdust, and once Dad's checked that the coast is all clear, he motions all of us in after him.

We've found what appears to a be a break room, and how Dad knew this was here, I can't tell, but it doesn't matter anyway. Midge and I slide Jamie on to a rectangular dining table set up in the center of the room just as River flicks on the lights. Here, the roar of partygoers is muffled as though underwater, and though the entirety of me is still in panic mode, at least my head doesn't pound so much anymore.