“He’s okay,” she said softly, and closed her eyes. “I’m okay, too.”

She thought she felt his hand on her hair, a second of light, sweet pressure. “Yeah,” Shane said. “You’re okay. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She nodded sleepily, and then everything faded into a lemon yellow haze, like she was lying in the sunlight.

Ouch.

Waking up was not fun. No hazy druggy lemon sunlight; this was more like a blowtorch burning on her back right on the shoulder blade. Claire whimpered and burrowed into her pillow, trying to get away from the pain, but it followed close behind.

The drugs had worn off.

She blinked and whimpered and slowly sat up; a passing nurse stopped and came in to check her over. “Congratulations,” she said. “You’re doing well. That burn is going to hurt for a while, but if you take the antibiotics and keep the wound clean, you’ll be fine. You’re lucky somebody was there to wash it off and neutralize the reaction. I’ve seen battery acid burns down to the bone.”

Claire nodded, not sure she could actually speak without throwing up. Her whole side felt hot and bruised.

“Do you want to get down?”

She nodded again. The nurse helped her down, and gave her what was left of her clothes when she asked. The bra, cut through, was a total loss. The shirt—not much left of that, either. The nurse came up with a loose black T-shirt from lost and found and got her presentable, and the doctor came around to give her a quick once-over. From the brisk way they dispensed with her, a little sulfuric acid burn was barely worth working up a sweat about, at least in Morganville.

“How bad is it?” she asked Shane as he wheeled her through the halls to the exit. “I mean, is it, like, really gross?”

“Unbelievably gross,” he said. “Horror movie gruesome.”

“Oh God.”

He relented. “It’s not so bad. It’s about the size of a quarter. Your teacher guy did a good job chopping up your clothes and getting it away from your skin. I know it hurt like hell, but it could have been a lot worse.”

There had been a lot more in the beaker in Gina’s hand. “Do you—do you think she was going to—?”

“Pour it all on you? Hell yeah. She just didn’t have time.”

Wow. That was…unpleasant. She felt hot and cold and a little sick, and it had nothing to do with shock this time. “I guess that was Monica’s payback.”

“Some of it, anyway. She’ll be really pissed now that it didn’t go over the way she thought it would.”