“I…think so. It had that peppery vinaigrette, right?” “Rachel didn’t eat any of it and neither did Shelby or Poppy,” she says, crawling up to her knees with a groan. I help her as best I can. “I think it gave me food poisoning. How much of it did you eat?” I shake my head. “Uhh…I don’t know. Maybe a forkful or two. I liked the paella stuff better. And I ate like a thousand of those conch fritters with the spicy dipping sauce.” “Well, I ate a whole bowl of the ceviche,” she whimpers. “In the moment, I thought it tasted so good but now…” She leans her face over the toilet bowl, bracing herself
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