can. About hawks, about rats, wing flaps, energy vibes, and maybe dig up a few quahogs, if you got the time.” He winked.
Stats beamed. Being a clam chowder fanatic, the mere image of going out quahog digging along Ipswich Bay with his four-pronged clam rake at least gave him a starting point.
Plus, it provided another point to ponder. Would a clam closing up its shell count as a wing flap?
CHAPTER 11
Stats spent the rest of the evening looking into the natural history aspects of ancient New England. Fenway Park, he found out, was built on ancient swampland. “Fen,” in fact, stemmed from a Celtic word for “bog,” or swamp. And millions of years before that, ancient underground pressures caused huge veins of quartz and amethyst crystals to form all throughout the region. Interestingly enough, quartz crystals actually radiate energy. Healing energy, according to some websites. He typed it all down for Billee’s sake. After all, his task was to “dig up anything.” However, how any of that information could help him identify the wing flap of a new curse was pure bogglement at the moment.
That night, Stats fell into a fitful sleep. It might have been the excitement of this new assignment from Billee. Maybe it was this new aura of sadness triggered by the unexplainable downward spiral of the Red Sox and the negativity surrounding it. It might even have been worry over the huge debt Pops faced.At any rate, when he awoke later on, the night air seemed so hot and thick, he had trouble catching his breath. At one point he threw off his bedcovers, but even then he felt as if he were lying in a puddle of sweat.
He fumbled for his inhaler and took a shot, but it only provided momentary relief. After a while, he slipped off again into another light and restless doze, all the while trying to ignore the most likely culprit—namely, a series of nerves that had been damaged by a severe fever Stats contracted when he was only two.
The vagus nerve system, which runs from the base of the brain, through the neck, past the heart, lungs, liver, and into the gut, affects your whole life. “Vagus” comes from Latin, meaning “wanderer.” And if your wandering or “vagabond” nerve is altered, as was Stats’s, it can impact everything from talking (it sparks the tongue) to blood pressure (it sparks the heart) to digestion. For when the vagus nervous system balks, signals get dropped. It’s like the faulty wire that causes a lightbulb to blink when it should burn steady. You stutter, your brain clouds up, your heartbeat slows to a crawl, and you can sweat up a storm.
Sometimes, the lights go out.
That’s when you faint and fall to the ground, which is no way to wander. Stats—and the poor heart he traveled with—had done it all.
Upon awakening sometime later, he felt as if all the air had vanished from the room. It felt as if he were underwater, deep down, at the bottom of a black lake.
He fought to pull in a breath. He kicked and swam as hard as he could to reach the glinting light at the surface. Finally his mouth popped open and air rushed in. The night sky spiraled above. And then it was over.
He was awake, drawing in huge wheezy breaths, and feeling as though he were on fire.
“Mark,” he said between gasps.
“Yeah?” Mark’s voice sounded surprisingly clear.
“I’m having … trouble … breathing.”
“I know. I was listening.”
Stats could hear his brother sit up.
“What do you need, Freddy? Your inhaler?”
“No, I—Not … doing any good.”
“Want me to prop your feet up?” That was one tactic to help the heart pump easier. “What can I do?”
For some reason, merely hearing his older brother ask those questions, using his most delicate and reassuring tone, made Stats’s eyes well up. Before he could answer, though, his throat closed again. He lay against his pillow, taking in short, quick puffs of air, and wept.
Mark bounced off the bed and stuffed his pillow under Stats’s
Stats beamed. Being a clam chowder fanatic, the mere image of going out quahog digging along Ipswich Bay with his four-pronged clam rake at least gave him a starting point.
Plus, it provided another point to ponder. Would a clam closing up its shell count as a wing flap?
CHAPTER 11
Stats spent the rest of the evening looking into the natural history aspects of ancient New England. Fenway Park, he found out, was built on ancient swampland. “Fen,” in fact, stemmed from a Celtic word for “bog,” or swamp. And millions of years before that, ancient underground pressures caused huge veins of quartz and amethyst crystals to form all throughout the region. Interestingly enough, quartz crystals actually radiate energy. Healing energy, according to some websites. He typed it all down for Billee’s sake. After all, his task was to “dig up anything.” However, how any of that information could help him identify the wing flap of a new curse was pure bogglement at the moment.
That night, Stats fell into a fitful sleep. It might have been the excitement of this new assignment from Billee. Maybe it was this new aura of sadness triggered by the unexplainable downward spiral of the Red Sox and the negativity surrounding it. It might even have been worry over the huge debt Pops faced.At any rate, when he awoke later on, the night air seemed so hot and thick, he had trouble catching his breath. At one point he threw off his bedcovers, but even then he felt as if he were lying in a puddle of sweat.
He fumbled for his inhaler and took a shot, but it only provided momentary relief. After a while, he slipped off again into another light and restless doze, all the while trying to ignore the most likely culprit—namely, a series of nerves that had been damaged by a severe fever Stats contracted when he was only two.
The vagus nerve system, which runs from the base of the brain, through the neck, past the heart, lungs, liver, and into the gut, affects your whole life. “Vagus” comes from Latin, meaning “wanderer.” And if your wandering or “vagabond” nerve is altered, as was Stats’s, it can impact everything from talking (it sparks the tongue) to blood pressure (it sparks the heart) to digestion. For when the vagus nervous system balks, signals get dropped. It’s like the faulty wire that causes a lightbulb to blink when it should burn steady. You stutter, your brain clouds up, your heartbeat slows to a crawl, and you can sweat up a storm.
Sometimes, the lights go out.
That’s when you faint and fall to the ground, which is no way to wander. Stats—and the poor heart he traveled with—had done it all.
Upon awakening sometime later, he felt as if all the air had vanished from the room. It felt as if he were underwater, deep down, at the bottom of a black lake.
He fought to pull in a breath. He kicked and swam as hard as he could to reach the glinting light at the surface. Finally his mouth popped open and air rushed in. The night sky spiraled above. And then it was over.
He was awake, drawing in huge wheezy breaths, and feeling as though he were on fire.
“Mark,” he said between gasps.
“Yeah?” Mark’s voice sounded surprisingly clear.
“I’m having … trouble … breathing.”
“I know. I was listening.”
Stats could hear his brother sit up.
“What do you need, Freddy? Your inhaler?”
“No, I—Not … doing any good.”
“Want me to prop your feet up?” That was one tactic to help the heart pump easier. “What can I do?”
For some reason, merely hearing his older brother ask those questions, using his most delicate and reassuring tone, made Stats’s eyes well up. Before he could answer, though, his throat closed again. He lay against his pillow, taking in short, quick puffs of air, and wept.
Mark bounced off the bed and stuffed his pillow under Stats’s
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