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Panic thundered in my chest. If we went back, I could get distracted for who knows how long. Then how would I plug the device in the computer?
I glanced at the grandfather clock in the hallway. I had less than ten minutes left. I couldn’t go back to the party. I needed to head back.
I pulled to a stop.
Emana looked me over, wobbly on her feet.
“Is everything all right?” she said.
“Yes,” I said, scrambling for an excuse. “I, uh, just need… the bathroom.”
“The bathroom is this way,” Emana said, leading me in the opposite direction to the study.
No!
“Not bathroom!” I said. “Barroom.”
“Barroom?” Emana said. “What’s a—”
“Uh-oh,” I said.
“What?”
I waved three fingers in her face.
“How many fingers am I holding up?” I said.
“Three,” Emana said.
Man, she was tougher than I thought.
“No,” I said. “I’m holding up five.”
Emana squinted at my hand.
“Are you sure?” she said. “I can definitely see—”
“This is worse than I thought,” I said. “I think you’ve succumbed to mojito… itis!”
“Mojito… itis?”
“It’s a very serious condition,” I said. “It happens when you drink too many mojitos. You start seeing things that aren’t there. You need to go eat lots of meat. Stat!”
“Meat? But I’m not hungry.”
“That’s the mojitoitis talking,” I said. “Quick! Go back to the party and eat as much meat as you can! It’s the only way to save your life!”
Emana’s bloodshot eyes fluttered.
“Die?” she said. “I could die from mojitoitis?”
“Definitely. But don’t worry. You’re only in the early phase. You need to act fast if you want to reverse the effects.”
“Then why do humans drink this?” Emana said.
I glanced at the clock. Just five minutes left.
Gah!
