Page 70 of A Very Addicted Christmas

“Everything,” Ben says and turns to me for clarification. “Right? Akara must have told you.”

“Not everything,” I say.

“We know Audrey threw a pre-birthday bash,” Rose explains. “And it was crashed by other students at Dalton. But that’s about all.”

“Great,” Ben mutters under his breath.

Audrey hiccups. I narrow my eyes on her and cock my head.

She puts a hand to her lips. “My hiccups betray me.”

“Mon petit, there’s a lot here betraying you right now. It’s not only your hiccups,” I tell her. She wobbles again, and Ben puts his other hand on her shoulder, dropping his dustpan.

I come around the island. Rose goes to the sink and soaks a clean dishcloth.

“Maybe you should go sit down?” Ben says to Audrey, then looks to me. “She threw up practically all night, and she was passed out like ten minutes ago.”

Audrey swings her head to him. “Traitor.”

I inspect my daughter, her eyes more angry than distant, but her skin is pallid and she’s noticeably sweating.

Ben says, “You look terrible. Would you rather suffer?”

“Yes!” Audrey yells dramatically.

Ben sighs.

Rose turns off the faucet. “Your brother is right. You need to sit.”

I guide Audrey to the breakfast table, and I pull out a chair. She reluctantly plops down and then sets a glare on her brother from across the kitchen.

“What did you drink?” I ask Audrey as I go to the fridge.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Rose and I say in unison.

She pouts. “Punch. Spiked punch.”

“What was in the punch?” Rose snaps and comes to Audrey with the washcloth. She gently dabs at Audrey’s sweaty cheeks and forehead.

Audrey shuts her eyes like this is a spa treatment.

Rose looks mildly amused, and I smile while I collect a sports drink with electrolytes. I shut the fridge.

“What was in the punch?” Rose asks again, this time taking away the cold cloth.

“I-I don’t know. A lot of ingredients, I believe.”

“Who made it?” I question, untwisting the Ziff bottle.

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“You are because you have a tongue,” Rose retorts.

I add, “And if you made the punch yourself, you should know what’s in it.”

Audrey tries to give her mother doe eyes, silently pleading for the spa treatment again.

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