Ms. Zephyr's Notebook (5 page)

November 11

Jacqueline H-M.

9:11 a.m.

Good morning, Ms. Zephyr. I say that strictly out of good manners and because of your kind offer to take dictation for me. (As you can see, I am managing just fine with my left hand. But thank you anyway.)

There is nothing else good about this morning. This place is worse than even my real school. That Logan is so mean. He calls me a “little weirdie.” Please! Who is the weird one? And he's always talking about your hair. Have you seen his hair? It's so thick and curly it really needs to either be cut short or at the very least brushed occasionally. Just because a person is six feet tall is no reason for not brushing his hair. Newsflash: we can all still see it from down here. He looks like a giant brunette dandelion.

And he has horrifying etiquette. I understand he hasn't been able to eat for a while. He certainly looks out of practice. He has the table manners of a warthog. In fact, I watched him stuff some kind of candy down his throat when we were watching television last night. You can find the wrappers under the couch cushions, if you are interested.

But Logan aside, I am trying to be patient, Ms. Zephyr, though it is difficult when so many people around here want to keep touching me. I spent most of yesterday afternoon hooked up to some kind of heart monitor.
I hate that thing, and besides, it doesn't seem to work properly. That Nurse Hydra insists that my heartbeat is irregular. How ridiculous is that? Anyway, as a result, I am sorry to say that I did not get my math questions finished. I will get them done tonight, I promise. I can't stand another evening in the company of Mr. Kemp, anyway.

The best thing about you, Ms. Zephyr, is that you seem to be able to talk to me without feeling compelled to take my temperature or my blood pressure. I'm grateful for that, believe me. And I still hold out hope that you can drop even a tiny hint to the doctor that I am doing very well. Even my mother can't get the doctor to see reason. She knows I am fine. I agree that I may be a little pale these days but that is no reason to keep me hooked up to these machines.

Oh no… here comes Nurse Medusa to force one of those awful protein bars down my throat. This will have to be all for today.

Jacqueline H-M.

Logan didn't want to look at the kid. He could feel the bed shaking a little and he knew Kip was crying.

“I didn't really mean it,” he said, without looking up.

“I was upset, okay?”

“Cleo's not stupid, Logan. She was just a bit mixed up, is all. But nobody deserves to die when they are a kid, Logan. Nobody.”

Logan felt like he was going to choke on all the different feelings that were battling in his throat. Here he was, arguing about dying with a kid hooked up to the latest in medical miracle machines. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about with Kip right now. But he needed answers and he needed them fast.

He jumped off the bed.

“Okay, so you're right, already. No kid deserves to die. And I shouldn't have kicked the wall in, either. But I was mad. I was mad that someone who had everything going for her was so messed up. But now I'm not just mad, I'm worried.”

“Well, I'm worried, too,” said Kip, wiping his face with the back of one hand.

They were both quiet a moment, listening to the
various beeps and hums in the room. Kip reached out and pulled the notebook closer.

“I forgot about the Jacqueline name,” he said, smiling a little. “Cleo is crazy, right?”

Logan didn't know what to say. “I hope not,” he muttered.

Kip looked up at him through tired eyes. “How come you're reading this stuff to me, Logan? You've never read anything to me before. Lots of computer games, but no books.”

Logan stuck his finger in the notebook to mark his place and took a quick glance out the window into the hall. No nurses in sight. But the clock was still ticking and the kid kept asking awkward questions. He closed the notebook and slid off the bed.

“Look, dude. I wish I could tell you, but I can't. Someone's in trouble and I need to find them, all right? And I think something in the notebook might help me do that. That's all I can tell you right now, okay?”

The kid stared at him a moment and then reached over to the table to grab his laptop.

“I know more than you think I do,” he said quietly. “I think you're trying to rescue Cleo.”

Logan swallowed, his throat feeling suddenly dry. This was really bad news. If this eleven-year-old kid was onto him, could the cops be far behind? He checked the window again compulsively and then moved back to sit on the corner of Kip's bed.

“Why do you think Cleo needs rescuing, Kip?”

The LED lights blinked green and red in the darkness above the bed and one of the machines clicked regularly. Heart monitor, Logan thought.

“I can't tell you,” Kip said after a long pause. “But maybe I can show you.”

He leaned forward and pulled the notebook out of Logan's hand.

November 11

Kip Graeme

Hi Abbie!

Long time no write! I'm back again — your fave Kidney Kid. This time I'm in the hospital for just one week. Dr. Robbie says I need just a quick clean-out of my blood and then I can go home. Not like last year, huh? Dr. Robbie says I should be careful so I don't get that sick again; it's my job to look after my new kidney.

You have a different notebook this time, but I bet you kept your old one, right? I remember how you want me to stick my journal entries and math in here,
just like before. But remember, last year you made me write about where I live and my vacation and all that. I hope you've still got all that stuff in your old book because I don't want to write it all out again. So I can just skip it, right? The only difference is that now I am eleven and last year I was ten. Same everything else.

This year, I suppose you'll want me to write about how it feels to be back. It feels not too bad. Well, not as bad as I thought, anyway. I only have to stay a week this time. I get to skip school, too, so not a bad deal. Besides, school with you is easier. Plus there's no one to bug me about my fat face or anything.

Things seem the same around here. A little quieter than last summer, maybe. Remember Spencer? He was that kid who broke his back and his leg doing wheelies on his ATV. Anyway, I saw him last night when I was in Emerg. This time he has a broken arm. He got it riding his bike along a fence. Guess he forgot about fence posts.

Okay, Abbie, that's a whole page, so I am done for today. I checked my spelling, and I think I got all the mistakes out, too.

From,

Kip.

Evergreen Middle School: E-mail

To: Abbie Zephyr <
[email protected]>
From: Ellie Plato <
[email protected]>
Re: Catching UP!

Hi Abbie –

Hey girlfriend! I think the last time we talked was at the professional development conference two years ago in Chicago — remember? We had to sit and listen to that intensely boring school board guy for what seemed like hours. Don't know how I would have survived it if I hadn't had you to exchange disparaging notes with. I was glad to see the inside of the hotel bar after that long day, I can tell you. ;)

Just thought I'd drop you a line today to say “hi” in addition to the formal report I sent through the mail. I had no idea you'd given up your position at Cartwright to teach in the hospital. That's got to be so hard — you have my sympathies. I can barely stand the little buggers in the classroom — dealing with them in a hospital setting would be way more than I could cope with. Speaking of which, best of luck with Cleopatra Jones. Bit of an eccentric kid there, as you've probably already figured
out. She drives me crazy correcting my grammar in class, but at least she's a hard worker.

Guess this hospital stay explains why she was always dragging around in that huge red sweater. I heard they had to unwrap ten layers of clothes from the poor thing when she fell. I just don't get how kids can do these things to themselves.

You'll have read my formal report already, so you know her marks are great. I knew something was up with the kid but I have a group of six real winners in that class so I didn't really have time to waste on Cleopatra. It's all I can do to keep the Gang of Six in their desks and out of trouble. A week ago, one of them held a match to my favourite “Reading Rules” poster. (It has a picture of a French poodle. Very cute.) Anyway, the kid nearly burnt the classroom down. Whole school evacuated, of course, but only a little smoke damage in the end. The poster was destroyed, naturally. It actually turned out well, because now that he's expelled I only have five monsters to deal with in that class.

Definitely worth the loss of the poster. I should write a book.

Anyway, I hope things turn around for Cleopatra. And hey, let's get together sometime for a drink.
A bunch of the staff meet up Fridays at the road-house in Clearwater — we can avoid both the parents and the kids that way. Come and meet us sometime. I'd love to see you again.

Ellie

November 12

Jacqueline H-M

Can't see a clock and someone has taken my watch.

Dear Ms. Zephyr,

I don't feel very well so I will not be terribly prolific today. Some little kid keeps knocking at my door. I wish somebody would tell him I don't even know how to play poker.

The only good thing out of all this mess is that Medusa has to stop forcing food on me now. My throat is terribly sore from this tube, though. Hopefully I will never see another one of those vile protein shakes as long as I live. Which is going to be a long time, Abbie. My Nona is almost 80 and she is doing just fine. She's pretty skinny, too, but she doesn't have heart problems. Neither do I. I did NOT have a heart attack. Dr. Valens says my heart “just fluttered a bit,” which I am sure is simply another way to say I had a fainting spell. Anyone
can have a fainting spell. Especially in the hospital. You would think this would be a good place to faint, since it gives everybody a chance to practice their craft.

I'm sure I'll feel better tomorrow. And I'll catch up on my homework, too, I promise. I just need to sleep for a while. Cleo. Jacqueline

Hi Abbie,

It's ten o'clock and you are not here so I'm writing you a note cause something bad happened. I'm worried about that skinny girl who says her name is not Cleopatra, even though the sign on her door says it is. When I got here I went in to say “hi,” but she looked pretty sad. I remember how sad I was when my kidney stopped working and I had an operation. So I tried to cheer the girl up but it didn't work. She yelled that her name was Jacklin and not Cleopatra and said I was an idiot. Then she threw her math book at me. It hit the TV and knocked it off the stand. The TV broke on the floor and Nurse Taki came in and yelled. And the girl just curled up in her bed and looked worse than ever. I said sorry to her and sorry to Nurse Taki but I think they are both mad at me now. I wish my mom was here. She would fix everything.

November 13

Logan K.

Too early.

Hey Abster,

Sorry about your office wall. I was feeling pretty mad and crazy and down, and that new kid was driving me nuts. It was kick the wall or the kid. So the wall got it. Crappy walls around here, Abbie. Didn't hurt my foot and I wasn't even wearing my Doc Martens.

Nurse Takehiko was pretty pissed with me. Apparently the little weirdie smashed a TV set today, too, so looks like parental-payout time around here. These destructive teenagers, eh? And I never knew what hospital cutbacks were before today. No wonder this place always looks so dingy. Anyway, I helped Ramone (the janitor dude) repair the damage. He wasn't so happy with me, I have to say, but at least we got the work done. But he said his union would kill him if they saw some kid passing him his tools or whatever, so we can't tell anyone, okay?