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ten-block radius could probably pick up. “But don’t worry. I go back and read them after he leaves. They are the best part, you know.” She giggled, then started choking again.
    Chris instantly snapped out of mortified mode and reached over to pat her on the back. “Relax, Mrs. McCormick,” he instructed in a voice so authoritative you’d never know a moment ago he’d been blushing about boinking. “You’re going to laugh yourself sicker.” He handed her a clean tissue he’d pulled from his pants pocket. She blew her nose. No blood this time, at least.
    “He’s such a nice boy.” Mrs. McCormick turned to Peyton. “You’re a very lucky girl,” she added, then winked.
    And here Peyton had thought she wasn’t capable of blushing more than she already had been. “Oh, we’re not… I mean, we’re just friends.” She didn’t want to say that acquaintances was probably closer to the truth.
    Mrs. McCormick was taken by another coughing fit, but when it quieted, she squinted up at Peyton. “Maybe for now, dear,” she said in a knowing voice. “But I have a good sense of these things. My kids call me psychic.”
    For a moment Peyton wondered if Chris had paid the woman to say that, then she scolded herself for even thinking it. He wasn’t that bad. In fact, despite his unwanted crush, he was kind of sweet. Wasn’t that what Avery was always saying? And this more than proved it. The way he cared for his elderly neighbor… well, she couldn’t imagine Drew or any of her other friends doing something like that.
    “Sorry, Mrs. McCormick,” Chris said. “It’ll never happen. Peyton’s got a better boyfriend than me.” He said it completely seriously, without sarcasm, and Peyton felt her face burn even more.
    “That’s not—” she started.
    Before she could finish, a large brown van careened down the street, seeming to come out of nowhere. It screeched to a stop before them. Two men, each wearing a matching brown uniform and a respirator, jumped out and ran to Mrs. McCormick.
    Chris leapt to his feet. “What are you—?”
    “Get out of the way, son,” interrupted one of the men. His respirator made him sound like Darth Vader from those ancient Star Wars movies Avery loved. “You need to get home. We’ll take care of your friend.”
    The two grabbed Mrs. McCormick by her arms and dragged her somewhat ruthlessly toward the van. The old woman cried out in protest, surprised, then broke into another coughing fit.
    “Stop!” Chris demanded. “Where are you taking her? We called for an ambulance.”
    “Yes, we got the report,” said the second masked man, pausing. “We’re taking her in to get treated. Mount Holyoke. She’ll be back in a day or two.”
    Peyton stared at the men, her brain awhirl with her father’s many conspiracy theories. Instead of reacting, she forced herself to stay calm and catalog the details. The masks. The uniforms. The seal on the van. It looked like a government seal, and there was no way this was a normal ambulance.
    “Mount Holyoke? Well, Westview’s not too far away. Can you tell me when and where I can visit her?” Chris asked. Peyton had never heard him sound so anxious before, but she understood his fears. She also knew Mount Holyoke was in Monroeville, not Westview. Was he testing them? “Or maybe you should tell me your names.”
    The two men looked at each other. “Perhaps we should take them, too,” the first said. His voice was amiable. “Just as a precaution.”
    The second man turned back to look at them and nodded.
    “Take us?” Chris repeated, his confidence fading and his face going white. “Take us where?”
    “We’re not sick,” Peyton added, in case it wasn’t obvious.
    “Well, why don’t we just find out for sure,” suggested the second man, still smiling that weird smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Get in the van.”
    Get in the van? No flecking way. Not with all her father’s fears and stories whirling through her