The Del Zottos stepped out into the hallway, effectively blocking Harlan’s path. Jake straightened up slowly. He was dressed in black, with the sleeves of his T-shirt cut off to make his scrawny arms look tough.

“Why? Are you feeling sick?” Jake asked, an odd look of delight on his face.

“I’m fine,” Harlan snapped.

“What do you mean, fine?” Jake was standing in front of Harlan now, blocking his way. The Del Zotto brothers moved in behind Harlan, cutting off his retreat. Like it or not, Harlan would have to deal with Jake yet again.

“Fine, as in not sick, as in get out of my way before someone gets hurt.”

Nicholas Del Zotto oohed, while Noah aahed at Harlan’s words, but Jake just ignored them. He seemed deep in thought, trying to figure out some puzzle.

“No nausea?”

“No.”

“No vomiting?”

“No.”

“No diarrhea?”

“No!” Harlan made the last “no” much louder than the others so Jake would know he was losing his patience.

“You mean you haven’t been puking your guts out the last couple of days?”

“For the last time, NO!” Harlan cried. “Why do you keep asking me?” But before he’d even asked the question, Harlan had figured it out for himself. He stood there glaring at Jake for several long moments, then said, “You! You did it! You’re the one!”

Jake gave a smirk and said, “Did what? You didn’t get sick.”

Harlan was silent a moment, still thinking, his mind reeling backwards to the morning, last night, yesterday morning … back farther and farther until—

“It was at the dance, wasn’t it?” he cried, the words virtually exploding from his mouth. “You put something in my drink.”

Jake shrugged. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.”

“No, you did all right. I remember it now. I’d just bought a soda and you bumped into me. That’s when you must have done it.”

“Done what?” Jake’s voice was dripping with an innocence that made Harlan sick to his stomach.

Harlan took another step forward, putting himself inches away from Jake’s face. “You put something in my drink!”

“Even if I did,” Jake laughed, “nothing happened to you.”

Harlan couldn’t hold back his anger any longer. “Not me, you idiot,” he shouted, catching the attention of everyone in the hallway. “Noble drank it instead of me.”

“That’s even better—”

“My brother’s fighting for his life!”

Jake’s expression changed, from outright cockiness to utter disbelief, in the blink of an eye.

“Yeah, that’s right. He’s dying! And you think it’s a good thing.”