Free Summer Of Fear by Lois Duncan

and he let out a low whistle and said, “What’s the matter with your face?”
    “Mother thinks it’s hives,” I told him, trying not to cry.
    “I talked to the nurse,” Mother said. “Dr. Morgan will see you, but they want you to come in the side door so you won’t expose the people in the waiting room if this turns out to be something contagious. Come on, I’ll drive you over.”
    An hour later we were home again, assured that I was not contagious. What I had was hives, as Mother had suspected, and Dr. Morgan had prescribed a medication that was to be taken every four hours and told me to take baths with baking soda in the water.
    “It’s an allergic reaction,” he said. “Can you think of anything unusual you may have eaten in the past twenty-four hours? Have you taken any medicines? It’s strange that you have no history of anything like this before.”
    “No,” I told him miserably. “I’m not taking medicine and I haven’t eaten anything I haven’t eaten a hundred times before. How long will I be this way?”
    “Not long, I hope,” he said kindly. “This medicine is usually quite effective. Twenty-four hours should do it. If it doesn’t, phone me and I’ll change the dosage.”
    “Twenty-four hours!” I cried. “But there’s a dance tonight! I’ve been counting on going for weeks!”
    “That’s a shame,” Dr. Morgan said, “but it’s not the end of the world, now, is it? At your age there’s always another dance.”
    I could have kicked him. In fact, I really might have if my poor swollen feet hadn’t been wedged so uncomfortably into the slippers.
    When we got home Julia was finally up and dressed, and I broke the news to her as soon as I saw her.
    “What I have is hives,” I told her, “and they’re not going to get better before tomorrow, so the dance is off. I’m going to call Mike at work and leave a message for him at the pool office. I wouldn’t let him see me like this for anything.”
    “I’ve seen people like that before,” Julia said. She regarded me with interest. “The mountain people call it ‘the crud.’ What does it feel like? Does it hurt much?”
    “No,” I said, “but it itches like crazy.” I turned to Mother. “Where do you keep the baking soda?”
    “I’ll get it for you.” She frowned thoughtfully. “I hate to see Julia miss this dance, Rae, just because you aren’t going to be able to go. Isn’t there some way she can go without you? It’s such a nice chance for her to meet some young people. Couldn’t she go with Carolyn and her date?”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “I suppose she could. I’ll phone Carolyn and ask her.”
    “Please, don’t,” Julia said. “I’ve never met Carolyn’s boyfriend, and I wouldn’t feel right pushing in on them like that. Don’t worry about it, Rachel. I really don’t mind missing it. I’m not a very good dancer anyway.”
    And so it was settled, or I thought it was settled. I spent the day shut in the bedroom reading and trying not to scratch or in the bathtub soaking in baking soda. Every four hours I took a dose of medicine, and a few minutes later I would go and look in the mirror to see what result it was having. I suppose I had in the farthest back corner of my mind the tiniest ray of hope that the medicine would produce some miracle and that the transformation that had occurred in such a short time would un-occur just as quickly. It didn’t.
    At five-thirty I had just gotten out of the bathtub for what must have been the eighth time and was fastening my robe when there was a rap at the bedroom door and Pete’s voice said, “Hey, Rae, can I talk to you a minute?”
    “I guess so,” I said without enthusiasm. The fewer people I saw at this point the happier I was.
    I went over to the door and opened it a crack, and he shoved it the rest of the way open and came on in.
    “Wow!” he said, doing a double take. “You really do look bad! I thought Bobby was