Dr. Rummage, to whom the pediatrician had sent them after dispensing a double dose of Benadryl, sighed. “I wish people wouldn’t Google. She’ll never outgrow it. You’re an EpiPen family now. That’s how you keep her alive.”
Alive. The opposite of dead. The specialist had wounded them. June bubbled in the stroller, kicking the safety bar with bare feet.
At home Jennifer the backup Nanny greeted them in elbow-length rubber gloves. She had boiled the kitchen and thrown away all their food.
“Jen Jen!” June called, trying to unbuckle herself.
“Hey J,” Jen smiled, “You had a busy day, huh?”
McCormick 100 