CHAPTER 8: Washington, Here We Come!

A few days later, we got a phone call from Mr. Drubek. "I'm calling a meeting and rehearsal for 1:00 tomorrow afternoon," he said. We told him we'd be there.

After we hung up, Andrew and I looked at each other. A meeting AND rehearsal? we thought. That could only mean we'd qualified. I couldn't wait to find out for sure.

"Does this mean what I think it does?" Andrew asked hopefully.

"I think so," I answered.

Mom was really pleased when we told her. "I thought you'd make it," she said. At that moment, I knew she was right, but I still wanted to hear it from Mr. Drubek himself.

The next afternoon, we arrived at the Y. When I entered the aerobics room, I saw Bebe sitting on the floor with her back to one of the mirrors, keeping an eye on the Prezzioso girls, who were playing in a nearby corner. I didn't see Jason, though, and wondered what the deal was.

"Hi, Bebe," I said. "Where's Jason?"

"He was feeling a little under the weather today, so I offered to take his place," she answered.

That's when I knew something was wrong. I'd had that gut-feeling ever since the night of the concert, but when I saw Mr. Drubek enter the room, as well as the last of the kids arriving, I put my worries aside and waited for the announcement.

"Can I have your attention, please?" Mr. Drubek called out as we started to quiet down. We had our eyes on Mr. Drubek, knowing what he was about to say.

"Okay," he began. "Yesterday morning, I got a call from the lady who is the head of the National Show Choir Competition Committee. She has reviewed our tape, loves it, and wants us to come to Washington to compete. We'll be leaving on Thursday and competing on Sunday. There'll also be an awards dinner the following Saturday, and we'll be coming home the day after that."

Upon hearing that, all of us started squealing like crazy. I'm still amazed that we weren't cheering and jumping around like a bunch of baboons. (We saved that for after rehearsal.)

I couldn't believe it. Ever since Mr. Drubek's phone call the day before, I knew we'd be going to Washington. I also hoped Jason would be well enough to go with us.

The following Thursday, we were to be at the & at 6 a.m. to get on the bus. When I got out of Seth's van, I saw the Everetts' SUV pull up. They were going to load their suitcases in their car and the equipment in their U-Haul. Diann and Jason would be on the bus, and Steve and Bebe were going to follow us. I was really excited about going, but when I saw Jason, I noticed that he looked even worse than he did on the night of the concert.

As the bus left Stoneybrook, I noticed from where I was sitting—across the aisle from Jason and his mom—that he'd fallen asleep with his head on her shoulder. I naturally assumed that he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. Actually, none of us did, so I wasn't too worried.

In retrospect, I guess I should've been, because when we crossed the state line from Connecticut to New York, I saw Diann gently stroking Jason's forehead, then she frowned and laid the back of her hand against the spot. "He feels warm," she said. Then, gesturing toward her purse, she continued, "Karen, honey, I've got a little first-aid pouch in my purse. Could you get it for me?"

"Sure," I answered, reaching into her purse, pulling it out, and handing it to her, being careful not to wake Jason.

She unzipped the pouch, took out the little thermometer strip, and laid it across Jason's forehead. About thirty seconds later, she looked at it. "A hundred and one!" she exclaimed.

I was just as shocked when I heard this. I knew Jason wasn't feeling well, but I never imagined it was this serious.

Around noon, we arrived in Washington, DC. I saw Diann gently shaking Jason's shoulder and saying, "Jason? Wake up, love. We're almost there."

Jason mumbled a response, then opened his eyes and sat up. By the time we arrived at Rax, he was trying to go back to sleep. "Jason? We're here," Kristy said as she and Diann helped him to his feet and off the bus.

When we got inside, Jason sat down at one of the tables and laid his head on his arms. That's when I knew that something was seriously wrong, because he wouldn't have anything to eat or drink.

As soon as I finished eating, I followed Bebe to the ladies' room, because I really needed to talk to her. After checking under the stalls to make sure that no one would be eavesdropping, I stepped into the stall next to Bebe.

"Hey, Bebe?" I called out.

"Yeah?" she answered.

"Is Jason all right? I noticed that he hasn't been feeling well since the night of the concert. He said something about his stomach bothering him, but I don't know. He also slept the whole way here, and didn't eat any lunch."

"Yeah, I noticed that, too," Bebe said. I heard her toilet flush just then. "He ate dinner last night, then went to bed early. He didn't have any breakfast this morning, though."

"Oh, no," I said as I came out of my stall and went to the sink to wash my hands. That's when it hit me like a ton of bricks: Jason was sick. And if so, then why didn't he just stay home?

When we came out of the bathroom, we almost collided with David Michael out in the hall, and he looked like he was going to start freaking out any second. "I don't know what's wrong with Jason," he said worriedly. "He's puking all over in there."

That's when Jason came shuffling out of the men's room, and he looked awful. His face was a horrible shade of green and white, and his eyes were bleary and half-open. He started to fall, but Bebe and I caught him and lowered him to the floor. It's a wonder he didn't crush us to death, now that I think about it.

I don't know why, but I remembered seeing Kristy and Jason in their school's production of Inherit the Wind last spring. There was a part where Jason had to collapse onstage. I knew he was acting then, but I also knew that this time, he really was sick.

Anyway, I'd learned how to check someone's pulse in health class last fall. Mrs. Kushel told us that the pulse can be checked in the neck or the wrist, which we practiced on each other, so that's just what I did. I laid two fingers on the side of Jason's neck and checked his pulse, which I found to be weak and fast.

"Okay," Bebe said, unbuttoning Jason's shirt. "Karen, you get Diann. And DM, you stay here and help me lean him against the wall." For someone who had just seen her brother collapse, she sounded pretty calm. I guess being a BSC member teaches you how to, as Daddy would put it, let wiser and cooler heads prevail.

I ran off to find Diann, and told her what had happened. While we were returning to them, I saw a man and woman in light blue short-sleeved shirts with an ambulance logo on the right sleeve. "Wait here," I told Diann.

I ran up to their table. "Excuse me," I said as they looked up. "A friend of mine just passed out in the hallway near the bathroom. Could you take a look at him?"

The man gave some instructions to his partner, then got up and followed me to where Jason was. "What's wrong with him?" he asked.

"I don't know," Diann answered. "My son hasn't been feeling well lately, and this morning when we were traveling from Connecticut, I noticed that he felt really warm, and when I took his temperature, it was 101."

When we got back, we saw that Bebe and David Michael had somehow managed to pull Jason into a sitting position and put his head between his legs. The EMT took one look at Jason, then returned to his partner. Within minutes, they returned with a stretcher and their equipment. The woman put an oxygen mask over Jason's face while contacting the hospital on her walkie-talkie as the man checked Jason's vital signs. Then they helped Jason onto the stretcher and started to wheel him out. I laid a hand on his forehead, which felt really hot.

"Karen," he said weakly, grimacing in pain. "Karen, come here." He motioned for me to come closer to him, which made him look like that one guy from The Godfather. One time, Kristy and I had a big sleepover with all our friends, and that was the movie we'd watched. (Don't ask.) But just the same, I leaned over so I could hear him.

"It's all right," he whispered, his voice slightly muffled behind the oxygen mask. "I'm going to be all right."

"Okay," I said, patting his shoulder. Even though I was still pretty shaken up by what I'd seen, I still believed him.

"And Karen?"

"Hmm?"

"Go get 'em, love." Smiling bravely, he gave the thumbs-up sign, and the EMTs wheeled him away.

Bebe and I returned to our parents, and she told her dad what had happened. "Take the kids and our equipment to the hotel," Steve said, handing the SUV keys to Mr. Drubek. "We'll go to the hospital with Jason, and call as soon as we find out anything."

Mr. Drubek nodded and took the keys as Steve pulled some of us back to let the EMTs through. We were all pretty shaken up, and I thought for sure that some of the little kids would start crying when they saw this—namely Andrew, but nobody did.

Yeah, I can't believe it, either.

They loaded Jason into the back of the ambulance. Diann sat next to the driver, and Steve and Bebe sat in the back with Jason.

As the ambulance drove away, we were all hoping Jason would be all right.