Chapter 6
I couldn't believe what Dad had just said.
Other children?
I thought I was the only one.
I thought Aunt Rochelle had made the mixture specifically for me because she believed something was wrong with my health.
But now there might be other kids.
Kids who had no idea what they were drinking.
Dad immediately called the investigator back.
He asked whether the authorities had contacted the families.
The answer was yes.
They were identifying purchasers and asking them to stop using the unverified product until its contents and safety could be established.
Dr. Bennett explained that anyone who had consumed it and developed symptoms should seek medical advice.
I looked at Dad.
“Are those kids sick?”
“We don't know yet.”
“Could they get sick?”
He sat beside me.
“That's why people are investigating.”
I stared at the ceiling.
I kept thinking about the children.
Maybe some of them were my age.
Maybe their parents were telling them the same things Mom had told me.
Drink it.
It's healthy.
Don't complain.
I felt angry.
Not just for myself.
For them.
That afternoon, the investigator interviewed Mom.
Dad stayed with me.
Through the open door, I heard her explain how Rochelle had marketed the formula.
She had called it a natural wellness blend.
She claimed it supported children's energy and healthy weight management.
She had given samples to relatives.
Then she began accepting money from customers.
The investigator asked whether she had seen any medical testing.
Mom admitted she hadn't.
She had simply trusted Rochelle.
Dad closed his eyes.
I knew he was remembering every morning he had left for work without realizing what was happening in our kitchen.
I felt guilty.
“Dad?”
He looked at me.
“Yeah?”
“Is it my fault because I drank it?”
His face changed immediately.
“No.”
“But I didn't tell you.”
“You were a child.”
“I could have said something sooner.”
Dad leaned closer.
“Malik, listen to me. You were supposed to trust the adults in your life. You weren't responsible for investigating what they gave you.”
I looked at him.
“Really?”
“Really.”
He kissed my forehead.
“You did nothing wrong.”
I started crying.
Not because my stomach hurt.
Because I had been blaming myself.
Dad pulled me into a careful hug.
“I should have noticed,” he whispered.
I shook my head.
“You were working.”
“That doesn't mean I stop being your father.”
I held onto him.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
The next day, Dr. Bennett told us my condition was improving.
My symptoms had become less severe.
The treatment plan was working.
The doctors wanted another period of observation, but they were encouraged by my progress.
Dad smiled for the first time in days.
“Does that mean we're getting closer to going home?”
“If everything continues in the right direction,” the doctor answered.
I smiled.
I missed my bedroom.
My basketball shoes.
My video games.
Even our annoying neighbor's dog.
But I didn't want to see the brown drink again.
That afternoon, Jordan sent me a video.
The whole basketball team had gathered after practice.
They held up a sign.
GET WELL SOON, MALIK!
I laughed.
Then I noticed something.
At the end of the video, Coach Johnson stepped forward.
“Malik, we want you back when you're ready. No pressure. Your health comes first.”
I watched it twice.
I felt better than I had all week.
Dad noticed.
“Good news?”
I showed him.
He smiled.
“Those boys miss you.”
“I miss them too.”
Then a nurse entered with a phone call for Dad.
It was the investigator again.
This time, Dad put the call on speaker.
They had recovered messages between Rochelle and another person involved in distributing the product.
One message included the phrase:
“Don't put the complete ingredient list on the packaging.”
Dad's jaw tightened.
Another message discussed customers complaining about unpleasant symptoms.
The investigator explained that the authorities were examining the communications and product records.
Rochelle had also been asked to provide documentation.
She hadn't cooperated fully.
Dad looked furious.
“Has she been arrested?”
“Not at this stage. The investigation is ongoing.”
I watched him carefully.
He didn't say anything for several seconds.
Then he asked whether the other children had been identified.
The investigator said they were working through the customer records.
After the call ended, Dad walked toward the window.
Mom was sitting near the door.
She looked smaller than I had ever seen her.
“Marcus?”
He turned.
“Don't.”
“I want to help.”
“Then tell the investigators everything.”
“I will.”
He looked at her.
“No more protecting Rochelle.”
Mom nodded.
“I won't.”
I watched them.
For the first time, I realized that the adults were not only arguing about me.
They were deciding whether they could ever trust each other again.
I didn't know what would happen.
But I knew I didn't want to live in a house filled with secrets.
That night, Dad read me a story.
He used funny voices for every character.
I laughed so hard that the nurse came in to check on us.
After he finished, I rested my head against the pillow.
“Dad?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Can we have pancakes when I get home?”
He smiled.
“Absolutely.”
“With strawberries?”
“And strawberries.”
“And no weird drinks?”
He laughed.
“No weird drinks.”
I closed my eyes.
For the first time since the pain began, I felt hopeful.
Then Dad's phone vibrated.
He looked at the message.
His smile disappeared.
“What is it?” I asked.
He stared at the screen.
“Rochelle has sent your mother a message.”
“What does it say?”
Dad hesitated.
Then he showed Mom.
Her hands began shaking.
May you like
The message was short.
Tell Marcus the truth about the first bottle. Or I'll tell him myself.
