Do-Gooder Read Online Free PDF Page A

stopping occasionally to read a caption.
    “Eat.” Mrs. Okono reached across the small table and shut the book. “Reading can wait. Your food will not.”
    “Where did you get them?” Henry asked. He stirred his rice and stew but didn’t take a bite, his mind clearly on the gifts in front of him.
    “I have my ways. You have such a thirst for learning, how could I not pick up a few things?” Her smile was so full of maternal pride, Henry practically glowed.
    “You like to read?” I asked around a bite of rice.
    He shrugged.
    “Do not be so modest.” Mrs. Okono looked at me and said, as though confiding a big secret, “He is so smart. I do not think your father could do without him anymore. He learns so much, so fast. Henry will be running the camp soon.”
    “I just like to know stuff,” Henry said to his plate. The tips of his ears grew red.
    My mind started to wander as Henry and Mrs. Okono talked of people and places I didn’t know. I didn’t realize that my eyes had closed until Henry took the last piece of flatbread from my hand. My head jerked up, and I blinked blindly at Mrs. Okono’s smiling face. I turned to see Henry standing next to me.
    “Come on,” he said, pulling at my elbow. “We’d better get to the cots. You’re about to crash.”
    I stumbled to my feet and had to hold on to Henry’s arm to keep from dropping back into the chair. “Sorry,” I muttered to Mrs. Okono. “I didn’t mean to—” I broke off with a yawn that Henry echoed.
    “Wow,” he said, “all that driving must have gotten to me too.”
    “You boys go, get some sleep.” Mrs. Okono stood up as well and led us back out the front. Complete darkness had settled around us, and there weren’t enough buildings to give up much light. If it weren’t for the grip Henry still maintained on my elbow, I would have tripped over the deep ruts probably created by cars that had driven up and parked there over time.
    The space Henry had described as a lean-to looked to me like an attached carport made up of a couple of sheets of plywood. It would keep the rain off of us and maybe deter some animals, but not much else. Two cots that looked like old Army castoffs lined the space, with a contraption draping mosquito netting above each one.
    “Not exactly the Ritz,” I mumbled. “Not even a Super 8.”
    “And yet, compared to some of the places I’ve been, it’s a resort.”
    I squinted at Henry but couldn’t read his face in the dark.
    I sat on one of the cots, ready to let unconsciousness claim me. I barely managed to stay upright. “I need my bag.” My tongue felt thick, and I couldn’t seem to remember how to make my mouth work.
    “I’ll get it,” Henry said. He reached under the opposite cot and pulled out a small lantern. The minute Henry and the light disappeared from sight, gravity got the better of me. From one second to the next, I was out.
     
     
    I WOKE up wet. Sweat drenched my entire body. Kind of gross, actually. Nausea churned in my gut, and my joints ached. I jerked upright, moaning when my head spun.
    “Hey, are you okay?” Henry sat up on his cot, the mosquito netting shoved behind him.
    I might have gotten a little sidetracked at the sight of Henry’s bare chest. Maybe. He had some seriously defined muscles. Not bulky—he was too thin for bulk—but seriously ripped. The concerned expression on his face, when I finally dragged my eyes up that far, distracted me from my ogling. And reminded me that I felt like crap.
    I could actually feel the blood drain from my face. Shakiness, nausea, sweating. All were symptoms of hypoglycemia. I yanked the monitor from my belt. It took a very shaky moment for the numbers on the little screen to come into focus. I blinked. My glucose level was fine. Stupid to panic. It took longer than an overnight to mess me up that much.
    “Isaiah, are you okay?” Henry shifted from his cot until he sat next to me.
    “I’m fine. Just, you know, a little out of it, I