Good, he’s in the house.

“Yeah.” I cough, trying to force noise out of my throat. “I need”—more coughing—“hospital.”

“Shit.”

The phone line goes dead, and I let my arm fall to my lap. I want to lie back on the bed, find some way to sink into oblivion, but my barely functioning brain knows I’m going to need to stand up soon.

“Ben?” Jasper rushes into my bedroom, looks me over, and then presses his hand to my forehead. “You’re on fire. Can you walk?”

Again, I try to stand but fall back after rising maybe an inch off the bed.

“Sammy!” Jasper yells over his shoulder as he kneels on the floor in front of me.

I don’t understand what he’s doing until I feel him slipping a sneaker onto my foot.

Sammy appears in the door, watching us with his eyebrow quirked. “What’s going on?”

“Get the car. Ben needs to go to the hospital.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Got it.”

I try to lean over, put my shoes on myself, but the floor tilts at a weird angle, and Jasper’s arm braced against my chest is the only thing keeping me from crumpling to the floor.

“Just let me do it.”

My brain has trouble with the concept of time, so I don’t know if Jasper struggles to get me dressed or if he’s done in a matter of minutes. At some point, he lifts my arms to slide them into a coat.

I make a weak protest. “Hot. Too hot.”

“Too fucking bad, buddy. It’s below freezing outside.”

“Let’s get him to the car.” Sammy is back, and between the two of them, I hang.

Even though I try to put weight on my legs, the muscles just don’t seem to be working right.

At some point, I stop trying to concentrate on my surroundings and just trust my friends to figure out what we need to do and where we need to go.

Finally, I’m able to lie down. But it’s not a bed. My legs are bent, and I’m moving. Swaying, as whatever I’m lying on jerks around. I can hear Sammy, but it doesn’t sound like he’s talking to Jasper.

I’m in a car. I’m sprawled across the backseat.

It’s embarrassing how long these facts take to register. At least, it would be embarrassing in a normal situation where I don’t hurt so bad that my brain wants to run out my nose like water.

“We’re five minutes out. Do you have Holly’s number, or do you want me to call her?”

Holly. Holly. I miss Holly.

But no. Don’t call her.

“Why would I call Holly?” My mom’s voice sounds strange. Tiny and distant.

Is she in the car?

“Well”—Sammy’s voice is much clearer than my mom’s—“because they’re dating.”

“They’re dating?” Her words crackle and hurt my ears.

Sammy is on the phone with my mom.

“Um, yeah. So, I guess I’ll be the one calling her.”

Don’t call Holly.

My head pounds so loud that I don’t know if I spoke.