“To stop the bleeding,” she went on, but her eyes were solely on Mark.
Becky turned to Logan. “And what about you?” she asked.
“I’m all right.” Logan absently touched his swollen nose and went on to check his backpack.
Mark took out a bottle of water, which Andrew and Logan shared. Logan pulled out a half loaf of his mother’s homemade garlic bread he brought for the picnic. It was made with an excessive amount of spices and garlic. Except it was now compressed flat. “Sorry,” said Logan as he handed out the slices.
George refused to eat it.
“Why?” said Logan, looking surprised. “But it’s your favorite, buddy!” He pushed the bread toward George again.
This time George became irritated. “I said I don’t feel like it!” he snapped, his face a sickly pale color.
Logan was alarmed. “What’s the matter, George? You sick?”
George nodded. “Stomach ache,” he muttered.
Logan gave his best friend a strange look. “Sorry to hear that,” he said, looking a bit hurt. “Guess I’ll save it for you.”
George did not answer. He was holding his stomach, his eyes closed. Logan placed George’s bread into a sandwich bag and put it away.
Mark became worried. He stood up and walked away from the group.
He didn’t like what he was seeing. One disappeared. One got an injured nose. One became ill with a stomachache. One got a nasty cut. And one nearly died from entrapment.
What’s going to happen next? Mark wondered as he paced around hopelessly.