Page 70 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

“You don’t look right.”

“Thanks, Red. You, on the other hand, are as gorgeous and subtle as ever.” But even Brody’s voice is off. There’s the tiniest wheeze to it, as if he’s in actual pain.

“Does something hurt?” I lay a gentle hand on Brody’s shoulder before moving it to his forehead, which is definitely clammy.

Lucas arrives then, a line of worry already creasing his forehead. “What’s wrong?”

I point toward Brody, who folds himself onto the ground, holding his stomach.

“Leno had a stomach bug . . .”

Brody lets out a small whisper of a groan, clearly trying to keep it together.

I look at my phone, which tells me the Uber is a minute away, and think quickly.

“I should take Brody to the nearest urgent care.” I’m already taking out the folder of papers I’d prepared. “Even if we miss this flight, I’m sure there’s another one we can get on.”

Lucas is looking panicked, but given Brody’s normal bluster, the fact that he’s not fighting me on this, is merely putting his head in his hands and groaning a little, tells me it’s the right option. “I don’t think Professor Miller’s bothered to read any of the official emails, but I’ve printed all the registration stuff. Every team’s been assigned a fifteen-minute window. Everything’s here in the folder.”

“Shouldn’t I go with you?”

I look at Brody again. “Miller’s going to freak if none of us are there, and I don’t know what the rules are if none of us show up on time. This way, if Brody’s just got a stomach bug, you can register us and we’ll join you in a day or so. You can go, network. I printed extra copies of your new résumé. Made some changes. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Because Lucas doesn’t need to know that my father made me sift through résumés when I was younger, saying that a future CEO needed to know every part of the business. My father believed that even if I might eventually have a son, I could still act as a support for his eventual heir, meaning I should be cognizant of all the details.

All that matters right now is that the Uber is pulling up and both my teammate and my boyfriend look like they’re about to pass out.

I give Lucas a quick kiss on his now-cold lips and open the door for him. I even take his luggage because it doesn’t look as though Lucas, in his near panic, is capable of much right now. “I printed riddles to distract you. I’ll keep you updated.”

“You’re probably overreacting,” Brody tells me, leaning his head against the side of the door with his eyes closed.

“Probably,” I tell him, while I google his various symptoms.

Most likely, it’s a stomach bug. If Leno’s sick, then Lucas has been carrying it. But I’ve never seen Brody even sniffle. That said, if my mother’s right about the fact that I’m a tuó shuāi jiā, that I really do bring bad luck to everyone I’m close to . . . well.

“Better safe than sorry.” I keep my voice as calm and dispassionate as possible.

Brody opens his eyes for a moment, likely to voice some smartass retort, but instead his eyes open a bit wider before he proceeds to vomit all over me, my phone, and the back seat of the Uber driver’s already battered Toyota Corolla.

The time in the hospital is a blurry, awful mess.

Not just because I have to fight to get Brody seen. (“It’s a full moon,” the nurse at intake tells me in a simultaneously overcaffeinated yet bored tone. “Everyone comes out of the woodwork.”) But also because I’m still lugging around Brody’s luggage and mine, and there are just too many questions I don’t know the answers to. (“What is your boyfriend’s blood type?” and “Does your friend-not-boyfriend have additional health insurance?”) Also, my phone might or might not be permanently damaged.

Aurora dropped my phone, cracking the case, last week.

And because I hadn’t gotten the chance to replace the case yet, my already-barely-hanging-on-as-it-was-smartphone was completely unprotected when Brody decided to vomit his I-think-it’s-orange-juice on it.

It’s another item to put on the list of things I can’t afford to replace.

By the time I get my laptop out and connected to the hospital Wi-Fi, Lucas is already midair, frantically trying to check in on me and Brody from somewhere over the Pacific. I message him via Discord that I believe they’ll let him compete on his own if I can’t make it out there, that I’m proud of him for getting on the plane and I’ve already tried to get in contact with Professor Miller.

I can feel Lucas’s stress from the string of messages he sends me.

You can’t come now?

That sounds awful. Forget I said that.

Brody needs you.