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Jimmy, had had all those years past? No. Mike could not die! |
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Abby ran into the empty kitchen screaming, "Hannah! Come quickly. Bring the . . . bee sting kit." She prayed that, whatever it was, it would help Mike, for she would be able to do no more for him than she had for Jimmy. |
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After several long seconds, Hannah appeared. She raced to a corner of the kitchen, pulled open a drawer, and extracted a small orange plastic box. "I've told him not to eat outside. But will he listen?" She ran out to Mike. Abby followed. |
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His breathing was uneven, as Jimmy's had been, and his face was mottled. He managed a smile as Hannah pulled open the box. "I know. Growing no flowers isn't enough; I shouldn't" |
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"Save your breath." Hannah pulled a paper from a clip on the box and began to read. Then, glancing up, she said, "I don't know how to give shots. I ought to make you do this yourself." |
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"Think of the fun . . . you'll have . . . torturing me." Mike's voice gasped; his breath came in wheezes. So like little Jimmy. Abby, too, felt unable to breathe in her helplessness. Tears spilled down her cheeks. |
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Hannah thrust the box at Abby. "Push up his sleeve; then unwrap the alcohol swab while I get the syringe ready." |
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Without understanding all Hannah said, Abby struggled to obey. On Mike's now-bare forearm was an angry red swelling that seemed to grow as she watched. |
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"Now," Hannah ordered, "wipe the alcohol on |
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