“Other symptoms — nausea, dizziness, lightheadedness.”
“No.”
“Did you eat mango?”
My gut sinks. “Mango? No, I don’t think so.”
Her lips purse to the side. “Looks like a mango allergy. Maybe kiwi, but I’d bet mango.”
She types on her computer and asks me which pharmacy I prefer. I tell her I’ll take the closest one.
“You’re going to be itchy and miserable today and most of tomorrow. We’re going to give you a steroid shot and a heavy dose of Benadryl. Take it easy. Drink water. The face will go down by tonight. The hives will fade in a day or two. We’ll send you home with three days of oral steroids.”
“Okay.”
“Roll up your sleeve for me.”
The shot hurts. I make a face. Gianna, who has been holding my hand since the curtain closed, squeezes once and lets go.
The PA comes in to confirm the plan, asks me twice if I’m sure about my Camdenthing, hands me a printed sheet about anaphylaxis warning signs, and tells me to go home.
We are out in forty-five minutes. The pharmacy on the way home takes ten more. By the time we are back at the apartment, my body is exhausted. I put myself on the couch and groan.
Gianna brings over the Chick-fil-A and says, “I know, Lucy. You’re going to be okay.”
“Mango allergy?” Mara asks.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “What the hell?”
Gianna turns on the couch, looking at Mara. “Oh my god! It was the punch! Percy makes it for every party. He puts mango chunks in it.”
I groan, taking a bite of waffle fries. “Please don’t tell anyone about this.”
“We won’t.”
“I’m serious,” I say. “I don’t want anyone to know. Not anyone.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t worry. We won’t tell anyone.”
Mara sits on the opposite side of me and starts eating. “God, I’m starving.”
Gianna shoves a piece of chicken in her mouth. “Me too.”
“How are you feeling after the shot? Do you feel better?”
“No, I feel dumb, itchy, and tired.”
“You’re not dumb,” Gianna argues.
“Pretty dumb.”
Mara says, “You didn’t know it was mango.” She huffs. “I want to tell Percy his punch almost killed you.”
I lift a finger. “Absolutely not.”
“We’re not telling Percy,” Gianna says.
“Don’t tell anyone,” I beg. “Look at me.”
