Page 108 of Goode Tidings

Callum pulls me in close. "Don't let him get to you. His ego is bruised because he's seen us together. Men with bruised egos can be cruel."

"How do you know that?" It's something I'm already aware of, but I'm surprised to hear Callum say it.

"Reading through the Goode Tidings submissions has taught me a lot about people." He pushes up the sleeves of his long sleeve shirt, revealing those muscled forearms I know so well. "You ready?"

I nod, and we walk out together.

Justin sits at the kitchen table. "Somebody has been blowing up whoever's phone this is." He looks down at my phone, lying between our abandoned coffees.

I lunge for it, that same fear taking hold once again. Three missed calls, all from the same number. One voicemail. I hit play.

I'm trying to reach Oliver's mom. This is Mr. Pettit, Oliver's Survivalist teacher. Oliver's been complaining of stomach pain for the past few hours. I gave him some medicine, but it's not appearing to help. I think it would be best if you came to get him.

I tap the phone number on the screen, watching it come to life. It rings once, and a man answers.

"Ms. Madigan?"

"Yeshellohow'sOliver?" The words stack on top of one another, forming a single word.

Justin plucks the phone from me and hits the speaker button before I can protest.

"This is Oliver's father," he says.

I've never heard Justin refer to himself as 'father'. Or use such an obnoxiously authoritative voice. There's no doubt he's posturing in front of Callum.

"Hello," the teacher replies. "I'm not sure what's going on with Oliver, but he's in a good deal of pain. I think it's best if you come to get him."

The fear in my gut sharpens. "Absolutely, yes. I'm on my way." I'm already grabbing my purse from the back of the chair beside me.

Justin pushes back his chair, standing.

"Please wait for a moment," Callum says, a gentle hand on my shaking arm. His touch is just calming enough to make me pause. "Mr. Pettit, has Oliver had anything to eat today?" Callum keeps his eyes on me while he asks the question.

"He said he wasn't hungry for breakfast."

"Has he been moving around?"

"Right now he's lying down. He has been for the last hour."

Callum nods. "Do you know if he has a fever?"

The teacher says something to someone else, probably one of the other chaperones. "We're having someone take his temp right now."

Callum nods again. "Can you please have Oliver point to exactly where the pain is?"

Mr. Pettit says, "He keeps saying it's his stomach, but sure." I stare at Callum with a question on my face, but he doesn't say anything while we wait. It's quiet for a moment, then we hear the teacher say, "Oliver, can you point to where it hurts on your stomach?"

My heart trips. I want to jump through that phone, get to my baby. The teacher's voice comes back through the phone. "He pointed to his right side." Someone else speaks in the background, and the teacher says, "He has a temperature of 101."

"What the fuck?" I whisper, mentally walking myself back through yesterday before I dropped Oliver off. Was he sick then? Did I miss it?

Callum bites the corner of his lip like he's internally deliberating, then he says, "Is there anybody there who can drive him to the hospital right now?"

Hospital? Right now? What does Callum think is happening?

"I think so." Mr. Pettit sounds like he's trying to keep up with the direction this conversation has taken. "Two of the chaperones followed the bus in their own vehicles."

In a calm voice, Callum says, "I think Oliver might have appendicitis, and he needs to go to the emergency room immediately."