Miles nodded. He closed his eyes, not to perform for the crowd but to place the imaginary page in front of himself. He described the anatomy shown in the drawing, the patient's sudden symptoms, the clinicians' reasoning, and the report of rapid improvement. He repeated phrases from the discussion section and distinguished what the article had observed from what it could not establish as a general rule.
A woman at the nearest table lowered her fork. James stopped beside the service station with a clean towel in his hands. Peter searched some of the medical terms on his phone and looked increasingly unsettled by the similarity between what Miles was saying and what appeared on his screen. Richard had stopped smiling completely.
"How old are you?" Hamilton asked.
"Nine."
"Nine years old," Hamilton repeated. His voice came out almost angry, as though the number itself were an offense against common sense. "And you learned this from trash?"
"Not only trash," Miles answered. "There are books at the library, and some people give old medical magazines away. I read signs at the hospital too. I used to go there with my mom."
Something changed in his expression. He looked at the hospital wristband partly visible inside his pocket, then pulled it out and placed it across his palm. The yellow plastic was worn and creased; the patient information had begun fading around the edges. He rubbed it once with his thumb before speaking again.
"Her name was Rebecca Underwood," he said. "She died eight months ago. I started learning more about medicine afterward because I kept thinking maybe there was something somebody missed."
The last part was barely louder than the hum of the patio heaters. Victoria pressed a hand over her mouth and looked down. Hamilton could think of nothing to say, so he shifted uncomfortably in his chair and waited for the boy to continue. Miles slid the wristband back into his pocket as though returning something breakable to a safe place.
"I don't want someone else to hurt while people argue about whether they're worth listening to," he said.
Leon loosened his hand from Miles's shoulder. He looked at the approaching crowd and realized the boy had captured their attention without raising his voice. "The ambulance is still coming," he said, making sure everyone heard him. "And nobody is putting this kid in police custody for trying to help."
Richard opened his mouth to object, then closed it. He had heard the threat Hamilton made, and he knew how it would sound if replayed later beside footage of a frightened child. Still, his objection to an untrained person handling a medical emergency remained reasonable. "We should be careful," he said, more quietly. "He might be right about the article and wrong about Greg."
"I know," Miles replied immediately. "That's what scares me."
At 8:31, Peter contacted emergency services again because the ambulance had not arrived and Hamilton's pain appeared worse. A traffic incident had affected the expected response, and the dispatcher provided revised instructions for monitoring him while help approached. They were told not to assume a single cause for the symptoms and to report any new signs immediately. Victoria repeated that advice to Hamilton, who listened with a grimace and then asked Miles one question.