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thinking at any given moment, Scarlet rightly assumed the source of their envy was Petula’s perfect immobility. They had been auditioning to be body sushi models at the new Japanese restaurant in town, and stillness was a required skill they had yet to master.
    “Is she on any medications?” the doctor continued as she proceeded to examine Petula.
    “Um, not on a regular basis, no,” Wendy Thomas answered, jumping in unwarrantedly.
    “No, she’s not,” Scarlet snapped as she stood next to her mother like a protective tigress. “Isn’t this room reserved for family members?”
    “We’re more like sisters to her than you are, Harlot,” Wendy Anderson added. This stung because Scarlet suspected — for better or worse — they were probably right.
    Kiki Kensington, Petula and Scarlet’s mom, waved them all to shut up. This was serious business and it was instantly clear whom both Petula and Scarlet had inherited their nononsense demeanor from.
    “Is there a possibility she could be pregnant?” Dr. Patrick asked.
    “No. She is NOT pregnant,” Mrs. Kensington snipped authoritatively.
    “She does look bloated around the middle,” Wendy Anderson said to Wendy Thomas out of the side of her mouth while tapping her own six-pack for signs of flab.
    “Yeah, knocked out and knocked up,” Wendy Thomas jabbered.
    “Well, the truth is, doctor, we really can’t be sure if she’s pregnant or not. I mean, she did have a hot date with Josh last night,” Wendy Thomas said, evaluating evidence with all the skill of an online college C.S.I. grad. “So I don’t think any of us have the authority to officially deem her barren.”
    Scarlet rolled her eyes and silenced the Wendys with a look that would have melted the polar ice caps faster than global warming. She was so not into these catty dimwits spreading a pregnancy mystery of Princess Diana proportions around Hawthorne with Petula laid up and totally defenseless.
    “I’m sorry, but we need to ask this of all females of child-bearing age before we can administer any treatment or medications,” Dr. Patrick added kindly for Mrs. Kensington’s sake. “It’s protocol. We’ll confirm it with a blood test anyway. Why don’t all of you go out and take a little break? It may be a while before her labs come back. We will call you if there’s any change.”
    Mrs. Kensington walked outside to call her ex-husband, with Scarlet close behind. Scarlet watched her dial and was a little shocked. She didn’t even know her mom still had his number. Tragedy and sickness had a strange way of bringing people together, she thought. Even bitter exes.
    For some reason, overhearing that call made her think of Charlotte and her memorial photo in the school paper. No one from Charlotte’s family was there, she remembered. Didn’t she have anyone who missed her, she recalled thinking as she typed up the obituary? Anyone who cared?
    Scarlet hugged her mom and headed toward the elevator as she tried to reach Damen on his cell. His phone kept responding “out of the area” so she couldn’t even leave a message. She didn’t feel comfortable texting him the details of what was happening. She needed him so much right now and he was unavailable.
    While Mrs. Kensington and Scarlet headed out, the Wendys lingered behind.
    “Ah, doctor, one more thing,” Wendy Anderson interjected just as the doctor was leaving. “You can’t catch a coma, can you?”
    The doctor ignored the question and thrust the sterile blue curtain shut on the threesome.
    The Wendys looked at each other and immediately pulled out their iPhones. They started an impromptu Facebook photo shoot, posing alongside Petula’s unconscious body. Wendy Anderson tilted Petula’s head up close to hers while Wendy Thomas stood on a chair, trying to get the highest overhead angle possible, and snapped the pictures.
    “We are gonna get so many hits. Send out a new photo alert!” Wendy Thomas exclaimed as they insensitively swung