Page 94 of Corkscrew You
But Ava is intent on marching us into what looks like a TV room.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” she says to me, breathing hard with anger. “You should never have taken that crap.”
“We might have guessed,” said Danny, glumly. “Dad being Dad and all.”
Izzy looks like she’s near tears. I suspect they’reherresponse to being furious.
She opens her mouth to say something, but suddenly, there’s shouting. Nate and his dad have started going at it. Full volume. No holds barred, by the sound.
“Fuck,” says Ava. “Dan, let’s go. Better intervene before—”
“Nate!” we hear his mother exclaim, her voice high and terrified.
Danny and Ava exchange one alarmed glance, and then start to run. Izzy, Max and I are hard on their heels.
Rounding the dining room door, we see Mr Durant, arms propped on the table, breathing hard. His wife is on her knees, and her hands are cradling the head of her oldest son, who is sprawled on the floor, unconscious.
Danny slides to his own knees beside his brother.
“Nate! Shit,” he says. “Whathappened?”
“He just … collapsed,” says his stricken mother.
Danny checks Nate’s pulse, taps him lightly on the cheek.
“Come on, buddy, wake up.”
“I’m calling Doc Wilson.” Ava has her phone. “He’s closer than an ambulance.”
“Nate, come on.”
Danny taps him on the cheek again. Nate’s skin is like wax, and he’s covered in a sheen of sweat.
Izzy and Max are on either side of me, and as if on some telepathic cue, they each slip a hand into mine.
And we stand there, watching, helpless.
ChapterThirty-Two
NATE
I’m trying to wake up, but it’s like crawling out of a black tunnel. I can hear someone calling my name, far away at first, then closer.
Finally, I can open my eyes, and when everything comes into focus, I find I’m staring up at Dan. I can feel polished wood under my hands, which would suggest I’m lying on the floor. What the almighty fuck is going on?
“Steady.”
Danny’s hands are on the back of my shoulders, supporting me as I sit up. My vision blurs a little, and I pull up my knees, so I can hang my head between them.
“Nate, you OK?”
Danny hasn’t sounded this concerned about me since he accidentally hit a baseball smack into my eye when we were kids. Then, he was more worried about getting into trouble. This time, it seems genuine.
There’s a cool dampness on my skin. Seems I’m sweating.
“What happened?” I ask Dan.
“You fainted,” is his reply.
