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their PDAs around like flashlights in a dark cave, searching for a wi-fi signal that would allow them to upload their new content.
    The Wendys got the hits they were looking for, and word got out that Petula was in the hospital almost instantly as a result. Guys from her class began making the pilgrimage to the hospital once the Wendys’ Web site crashed from too many visitors. Not to give support or show respect, but to get a first-hand look at Petula Kensington, unconscious, in bed, and practically nude. It was their collective lifelong dream.
    “Name?” the older receptionist at the nurses’ station asked.
    “Burns, Richard,” a guy replied as Scarlet passed by.
    The receptionist typed his name on an ID sticker.
    “Nice try, Dick Burns… . Like no one has ever heard that one before,” Scarlet snapped as she ripped the identity tag off his American Eagle jacket.
    The receptionist looked confused.
    “They are trying to eye-hump her,” Scarlet raged, angry at both the slobbering guys and the clueless receptionist. “My sister isn’t taking visitors, just close friends and family on the list we provided. It’s in the computer.”
    A long line of guys sighed in unison and turned away as Scarlet continued out the glass doors.
    She quickly turned her back and speed-dialed Damen again. She was desperate for support and, most of all, guidance. Her call was interrupted by her call waiting beep. She took the phone away from her ear and looked at the face. It was a text message. She eagerly clicked to open it. It wasn’t from Damen, after all, but rather a message from her mom. It said that the doctor was back and that she needed Scarlet to get back to the room.
    Scarlet didn’t even wait for the elevator, instead, she ran up four flights of steps in a matter of seconds.
    “Can we get a softer bulb in this thing?” Wendy Thomas asked a nurse checking Petula’s chart while holding up Petula’s lamp. “It’s really harsh and it makes her pores look huge!”
    Scarlet and her mother walked in the room, holding hands, unified against whatever news would come. Dr. Patrick entered just behind them. She began immediately in that neutral matter-of-fact tone that doctors affect whenever the news is not good.
    “We’ve ruled out several things based on the results of her bloodwork, one being a small cyst on her ovary that we thought might have ruptured and caused an infection.”
    “A cyst? My aunt had a cyst and it had teeth! Not just like front teeth, but molars!” Wendy Anderson said, fighting back a deposit of her stomach contents. Still, if Petula had a cyst, they both secretly wanted one too.
    “But her white blood cell count is dangerously elevated and her fever is raging,” Dr. Patrick mumbled, ruling diseases out or in, as she examined Petula more closely. “Something so acute would have to have a recent cause… .”
    With that, Dr. Patrick pulled the sheet down further, revealing Petula’s feet.
    “You took off her new Chanel nail polish!” Wendy Anderson exclaimed. “She’s gonna be pissed. You can’t even find that shade on eBay anymore!”
    Normally Scarlet would have bounced the Wendys out of the room a long time ago, but in an odd way, their shallow comments were comforting now. Scarlet stood there cringing at her sister, partially exposed, being poked like a med school cadaver, and stripped of her polish as well as her dignity.
    “That’s it!” the doctor said, pointing to her nail.
    “Uh-oh …” Both Wendys, Scarlet, and Kiki gulped hard in unison.
    “Your daughter has contracted a staph infection” — Dr. Patrick squinted and moved in closer to one of Petula’s big toes — “from her recent pedicure.”
    “She wasn’t drunk?” Scarlet asked.
    “No, she was losing consciousness, and if it weren’t for you rushing her here, she might not have made it,” Dr. Patrick said, tucking her long ash blond bangs behind her ear.
    “See that little cut on her toe — that’s where the