Noah is totally spazzing out in the corner, waving his arms, flapping his hands, moaning like he’s in pain. And he’s getting worse. I glance at the stall. I could lock myself in there. I mean, the guy’s own grandfather made panic rooms for them. Obviously, he’s not safe to be around.
Alice jumps up and I think she’s going for the stall. But instead she goes over to Noah.
“You’re okay. Noah. You’re okay,” she says, her voice trying to stay calm. Her hands are up like she’s gentling a wild horse. “We’re going to go to the bus soon. Five minutes. Okay?”
He tilts his head like he’s just heard a strange sound far away and he stops waving to pull at his hair. But the rocking doesn’t stop and his groaning is getting louder.
Why doesn’t she do something? “Can’t you shut him up?”
“You’re the one that set him off,” Hogan says to me.
Alice picks up his broom and offers it to him. “Want to sweep, Noah?”
But as she steps forward, instead of taking it from her, his arms explode outward and he screams.
“YeeEEEEEEEaaargh!”
Total freak-out. Like a tornado of fists and spit as his arms windmill around him like crazy propellers. Alice tries to step back, but there isn’t anywhere else to go. The broom wedges under the sink and Noah’s next swing catches her smack in the face, sending her staggering back, and she falls to the ground.
SNAP!
Ohmigod! Her arm? Her neck?
I rush over to her. “Are you okay?”
Noah is revving up by the second, yelling, fists flailing as he moves towards us. But before I can scream, Hogan comes barreling into him.