"Okay, so we still go back--" Corey began. He stopped, wincing. "Headache?" I said. "Yeah, just hold--" He doubled over with a sharp intake of breath. I grasped his arm. "Corey?" "Bad one," he panted. "Okay, just--" He let out a howl, his head dropping forward, his hands clutching it. Then he retched. Another heave, and a geyser of Coke sprayed the bushes. I gripped his arm and tugged him until he was sitting, knees up, head between them, panting hard. "Well, that's new," Corey muttered between gasps. "And I don't think I like it."