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she came across her elderly neighbor hobbling down the street. The woman was coughing so hard that at first Peyton worried she was choking. She ran up, placed a hand on the old woman’s shoulder and peered into her eyes. “Are you okay, Mrs. McCormick?” she asked.
    The old woman grasped her with a bony hand. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice cracking. “I felt fine this morning. But now I can’t seem to stop coughing.” She opened her hand, revealing a tissue clotted with scarlet-flecked phlegm. Peyton recoiled. “A few minutes ago I started coughing up blood.”
    “We need to get you to a hospital,” Peyton said, glancing around for a neighbor. She needed someone with a SmartCar, because it was unlikely they’d make it to a hospital otherwise; the old lady was never going to be able to walk. And, to complicate things further, unlike everyone else in the universe, Peyton didn’t have an iComm. The tech that had replaced the cell phone was yet another modern convenience her dad forbade, and if she used her jerry-rigged, outdated phone to call home, she doubted he would answer. He never did.
    At that moment, Mrs. McCormick swayed. Before Peyton could stop her, the old woman stumbled, losing her balance altogether, her frail, aging body crumbling to the ground. Horrified, Peyton dropped to her knees, attempting to help the old lady to the sidewalk.
    “Stay there,” she instructed once she was satisfied that the woman was out of the way of traffic and able to sit up by herself. “I’ll go try to find someone to help.”
    “Hey, what’s going on?”
    Peyton turned to see none other than Chris Parker approaching. After a brief spasm of discomfort, relief washed over her. Maybe he could get his mom to drive them or something, or just call the hospital. “Mrs. McCormick’s sick,” she explained, giving the pertinent details. “Do you have an iComm? We need to get her an ambulance.”
    Chris pulled his longish brown hair back from his ear, revealing a tiny headset. He pressed the silver button at its tip. “Dial 911,” he commanded, then waited. “Hello?” he said. “Yeah, I’m at 23 Mulberry Lane. We need an ambulance.” He listened for a moment. “Yeah, she’s an elderly woman. Name’s Mandy McCormick. She’s coughing up blood.” Another pause. “Okay, thanks. Yeah, we’ll be right here. No, we won’t leave.” He pressed the button again and turned back to Peyton. “Okay, they’re sending an ambulance.”
    “Just hang in there, Mrs. McCormick,” Peyton said, patting the coughing woman on the back. “They’ll come for you in a minute.”
    Mrs. McCormick looked up at the two teenagers, appreciation in her watery blue eyes. “Thank you, kids,” she said. “You’re good to help me.” She was overtaken by another racking coughing fit.
    Chris sat down beside her and took her hand in his. “Are you kidding, Mrs. McCormick?” he asked. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”
    The older woman blushed like a schoolgirl, and Peyton couldn’t help but notice. “Such a sweet boy,” she said. She looked up at Peyton. “You know, he comes by twice a week after school to visit me.”
    “He does?” Peyton was surprised.
    “Oh, yes. He reads me all my favorite romance books,” the woman explained. “Of course, we skip over the sexy parts. He’s just a baby after all. Can’t have him reading about blowjobs and boinking.”
    Chris’s face instantly turned tomato red. “Mrs. McCormick!” he cried, sounding absolutely horrified. Peyton didn’t blame him. She was blushing pretty furiously herself. And Chris looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there at that moment. Suddenly she wondered if he’d applied for his LTF yet. Probably not. He did seem really innocent. But then, so was she.
    Mrs. McCormick reached out and pinched Chris’s cheek, then turned to Peyton. “See, this is why we have to skip them,” she confided in a stage whisper that everyone in a