I’m not supposed to care.
But I’m fucking furious, and I’m not sure if it’s anger or the alcohol making my head hot.
“My dad would congratulate me,” Blaze snaps back.
Asch meets my gaze, and he shakes his head.
Whatever. He might not want to get involved, but I do. It’s not like Pandora needs me to defend her. She doesn’t, and she’d probably get offended if she knew we were doing just that.
But I’m not going to let Zayden talk shit about her.
I take a step forward, deciding I don’t give a fuck about the consequences. Blaze will overrule anything Zayden tries to do to me.
Before I can take more than a few steps in Zayden’s direction, something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. Even though I know I shouldn’t take my eyes off of Zayden, I look anyway.
“Uh, hey, Franklin?” Tate says to the ground.
No, not the ground. To Franklin, because Franklin is lying on the lawn, the fire highlighting his open, gasping mouth.
“Fuck!” I sprint over to him, almost tripping over my own feet in the process. “I thought you said that shit was fake!”
“It’s synthetic, man. It’s always synthetic,” Brock says, his cheeks flushed. “I didn’t?—”
“Call 911,” I say, then shake my head. “Shit, that’ll take too long. Asch, are you sober enough to drive him?” Fuck knows the rest of us aren’t.
“Help me get him up,” Asch says, and while I recognize the alarm in his voice, he stays calm enough to help me pull Franklin up.
Franklin tries to help, but his wheezing breaths are getting more concerning by the second. His face is red, and I see raised bumps around his mouth.
“Hold on, man,” I tell him. “Just hang on.”
Between Asch and me, we manage to get him to Blaze’s fancy car. Blaze jogs up to us and hands Asch the keys.
“I’ll call the clinic—no, shit, it’s already closed. You have to take him to the hospital. I’ll call them,” Blaze says, tapping on his phone.
Zayden is behind Blaze. “Don’t tell them we were drinking,” he warns us.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” I snarl at Zayden.
“Not right now,” Asch snaps at both of us from the driver’s seat. “Are you coming or not?” He slams the car door closed.
I hurry over to the other side, getting into the car right before Asch starts to pull away from the curb.
“Hang in there, Franklin,” I tell him, looking back at him.
The sounds he’s making are weaker, and panic starts to course through me.
I should’ve said more. I should’ve stopped them.
“Faster!” I tell Asch, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
Asch doesn’t look at me, but he accelerates until he’s speeding across campus. Thanks to the late hour, no one’s on the road, and it only takes us ten minutes before we’re pulling into the emergency entrance to the hospital.
Ten minutes is a long time.
How long had he been without air before I’d noticed?
Three people are standing right outside the entrance with a gurney, and I hurry to get out of the car. I fling the back door open, shouting, “He’s back here.”
