“It’s been going on for a while,” Clark told her. “The stomach aches. It’s been weeks, actually. It gets a little better, but then it gets worse. And each time it gets worse it’sworse.”
Kenneth shook his head. “That’s just not true.”
“Yes, it is.”
“And you’re not just eating too much crap?” Ashley asked. Their diets were atrocious at school—candy and soda and pizza and cheese-steaks and sugared breakfast cereals, washed down with beer and stout and Jell-O shots. Of course, here at camp, they weren’t drinking since they were both underage, and the junk food wasn’t as plentiful, although she suspected that one of their giant suitcases had been entirely filled with snacks.
“He’s barely eating anything at all,” Clark reported.
“That’s not good.” Ashley pulled both boys aside, lowering her voice as Bull and Todd arrived. Now they were only waiting for Jim—Lieutenant Slade. “You think I should call Lieutenant King?”
“No,” Kenneth said, as Clark said, “Yes!”
Kenneth turned to give Clark a withering look, that—along with his clipped British delivery—called to mind the Dowager Countess fromDownton Abbey. “To do what…? Rub my tum-tum…?”
“No, to just make sure you’re really okay,” Clark argued.
“Lieutenant King’s a medic—a first responder—not a doctor,” Kenneth pointed out. “Am I bleeding? No. Am I on fire? Not since the last time I checked. He’ll take my blood pressure, which I’m sure is dead normal, and suggest I take the afternoon off, feet up in the trailer, to which I say,No, thank you.Paintball’s the one activity I actuallywantto learn, and, if you must know the truth, I suspect my problem is that I’m celiac.” He turned to Ashley. “Louise was having similar symptoms and has just been diagnosed.”
“Who’s Louise?” she asked.
“My twin,” Kenneth reported.
Kenneth had a twin. Wow.
“Oh, my God, of course you’re celiac if Louise is,” Clark realized, “I mean, you’re identical twins.”
“Not identical,” Ashley pointed out.
“I’ve seen her picture,” Clark insisted. “They look exactly alike.”
“Because we’resiblings,” Kenneth hissed. “We notexactlyidentical. Do the math, Clark.”
Ashley did it for him. “Male, female…?”
“Oh!” he said. “Yeah. Right. Huh.” But then he also realized, “When was Louise diagnosed, and how come you didn’t tell me?”
“I got an email from her about a week ago,” Kenneth said. “I was sort of still processing it.”
“Celiac,” Clark said. “Thatsucks.”
“Since we’re twins, we share a lot of DNA,” Kenneth said, “but that doesn’t necessarily mean I have it. It is, however, more likely, and since I haven’t been feeling well…”
“Celiac,” Clark said. “Oh, man, no more pasta…? I don’t think I could live without pasta.”
“It’s not life-threatening,” Kenneth told Ashley. “Certainly not at this stage. I just feel a bit under the weather. Some moments are a little bit worse, but, really…”
“No more Twinkies,” Clark said.
“I’m going to mention it to both Lieutenants Slade and King,” Ashley told him. “And the first thing I know they’ll both ask me is if you’re drinking enough water.”
“I am,” he told her.
“Oh, dear God,” Clark said, “no morebeer…?”
Ashley looked at her brother. “How is that helping?”
“No more Italian bread,” Clark lamented, “or croissants, bagels, pizza,donuts…”
