Ms. Zephyr's Notebook (6 page)

And, in case you don't believe me, I am sorry.

I still don't get the little weirdie, though. No wonder she's breaking TV sets — she must be really crazy. What kind of idiot starves herself into the hospital? And into heart failure? I hear it wasn't a real heart attack, actually. Takehiko said she just went into fibrillation or something like that. Not enough potassium or something.

So how stupid are the staff around here? I guess you people don't have enough to do or something. It's an easy cure: stuff the chick with some decent food (I recommend pizza) and send her home. Problem solved.

Logan

To:
[email protected]
From:
[email protected]

Hey Ms. Zephyr.

I hope I have the right person here. My name is Tom Juwell. I can't seem to get ahold of a buddy of mine. His name is Logan Kemp. Coach told us he's in the hospital, but since I am not in his family they won't give me any information. I got your e-mail from the hospital website. Hey, can you just tell him to call me or something? The guys on the team all heard he was sick so we sent him a card. But I'd like to hear how he's doing so I was hoping you could get him to call me. Or e-mail would be good, too.

Thanks.

November 14

Logan K.

Before lunch and too early to be working

Hey, Abbie, I don't have to use my school binder in here, do I? It has all kinds of other stuff from the beginning of the year and we're not doing any of the same things now, anyway. I hate looking at it. It reminds me of when I wasn't sick. Pretty lame that my mom just found it now — I left it right at the bottom of my bed. I guess she's not sitting in there at night moaning over the loss of her absent son.

It's okay, I'd rather talk about the team. You did say today's writing topic was about our friends, right? They sent me the card in my room — did you see it? Coach called me, too. He says the team is too loud to come in to see me, but they've dedicated practice to me a couple of times. That rocks. I just wish I was there. I could kick some serious butt right now. I'm so sick of being here I could puke.

Thanks for passing on Tom's e-mail. I can use that internet station at the end of the hall to e-mail him back. Not that I want to tell him about anything happening around here. This place sucks. But I'd like to hear how the team is doing with pre-season and all. I plan to be back on that field the day I finally get out of here. I can't wait.

Logan

November 14

Logan K.

After lunch.

I thought you might like to look at a bit of the graphic novel I was working on for my English class before I got stuck in here. So this should count for a journal entry, right?

“I hate reading all this crap about me,” Logan muttered, tossing the notebook down. He leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “Extremely high hopes,” the letter had said. Right. He could just imagine what his dad was thinking now. Mr. Carter Kemp, the all-star rugby player, now with some kind of a diseased wimp for a son. He'd probably not even trouble himself to make the trip from Denver anymore. Why bother? He usually only showed up for games, anyway.

Kip looked down at the notebook again. “It's harder to find the stuff I want to show you in here than I thought. Abbie keeps all our work mixed together.”

Logan sighed. “I know. You'd think as a teacher she'd be more organized.”

“I think the notebook helps her stay organized,” said Kip. “But I wanted you to see that Cleo was getting better. Everybody thought she was.”

“I know,” said Logan. “I believed it, too. But now I'm not so sure.”

Kip pushed himself up a little higher in the bed. He shot Logan a funny look.

“I did think she was getting better,” he said quietly, “but
running away is just going to makes things much worse.”

The room was silent, with the muted beep and clunk of the machines sounding suddenly loud by contrast.

After a moment, Logan realized that his mouth was actually gaping in surprise.

“You know? You've known all this time that she's run away?”

Kip nodded. “I found out she was going, but she made me promise not to tell.”

Logan closed his eyes and leaned against the wall with a groan. “And here I thought you would go straight to the nurses if you found out she was gone,” he said. He opened his eyes and looked at Kip, sitting upright and wide awake in his bed in spite of the hour. “You're more trustworthy than I thought, kid.”

Kip smiled a little at this. “Cleo knew I wouldn't tell,” he said. He shifted uncomfortably in his bed. “But I'm really scared for her, Logan. Besides, everybody will figure out she's gone pretty quickly, I think. There are no secrets around here.”

Logan strode around to the head of the bed. “You're right, Kip. But I think you and I are looking for the same thing here. We just want to make sure Cleo is safe, right?”

Kip nodded slowly. “I guess so. But she did ask me not to tell anybody anything. And that would include you, Logan.”

Logan leaned on the table and stuck his nose right in Kip's face. “Look, kid. Time is passing. Cleo is gone
and, unless she told you more than she told me, we don't know where. We need to work together to make sure she's safe. So here's the deal: we both know you're stuck in this bed, but there is still a way for you to help. Now what did Cleo say to you?”

As he leaned forward encouragingly, one of his fingers caught on the wire leading to the heart monitor, pinching it between his palm and the corner of the table. The machine's alarm howled and a red light above the door began to flash.

Logan waited a full five minutes after the sound of Nurse Takehiko's shoes receded in the distance before crawling out from under the bed. His eyes had adjusted to the dark from lying under the bed all that time, and in the glow of the flashing lights he could see Kip was grinning broadly.

“That was awesome, Logan. I never knew you could move so fast.”

Logan rubbed his head where he'd smacked it on the steel strut under the bed. “Neither did I.”

He sat back down on the bed, gingerly avoiding any wire or tube he could see. “Dude, that thing was loud. I thought she'd catch me for sure.”

“Me too. But I'm glad she didn't. You would have been in so much trouble. But it was okay. I just told her
I must have rolled over on it in my sleep.”

Logan nodded and squeezed a button on his watch. The face glowed blue in the dark room. “Yeah, I know. Listen, Kip. I've got to get out of here.”

“But I thought you wanted to hear about what Cleo had to say.”

“Well, yeah, I do. But you need to tell me quick and without any more alarms ringing. I'm going to be the one who needs a heart monitor if that thing goes off again.” Logan leaned forward and flipped on the tiny lamp that the nurses used for reading charts at night.

“Okay, okay.” But Kip just fidgeted with his laptop. Logan could feel impatience surging inside him like a rising helium balloon.

Kip finally broke his silence. “She said she had filled out a transfer form and that the nurses would think she was in the psych ward. She said by the time they figured it out, she would have a chance to do what she had to do.” He bit his lip. “But she wouldn't tell me where she was going, Logan. Do you know where she's gone?”

Logan shrugged. “Maybe. I know about the transfer form, anyway. I helped her steal the thing, for crissakes.” He shook his head. “Looks like she was using us both, dude.”

“There's something else.” Kip leaned over and pulled a small pill bottle from the drawer in his bedside table. “She forgot this.”

Logan took it and held the label up to the lamp. His
insides coalesced into a cold, hard lump. She left without her meds. Maybe his worst fears were true.

“Doesn't she need her medicine, Logan? She left here so fast and all her stuff is still in her drawer.”

Logan swallowed. Her meds and all her stuff left behind? This was not good. NOT good. But Kip didn't need to know how bad things really were. The kid had enough to worry about. Let him think that Cleo was just running away. Time to play it cool.

He raised his eyebrows at Kip. “How do you know what was in her drawer? She'll hit the roof if she finds out you went through her things.”

Kip's eyes widened. “Hey, I'm not crazy. She just left that bottle on her table. I didn't even touch her drawer. But if she'd really been transferred, they'd have sent her medicine with her, wouldn't they? They would have gathered up all her stuff in a bag and sent it along with her. So they might miss the stuff in the drawers for a day or two, but if the nurses see this, they'll figure out something is wrong.”

Logan smiled a little as he pocketed the pills. “Good thinking kid. I'll make sure she gets these. So, did you try to talk her out of going?”

“I didn't really say much. Just made her promise to…”

“Promise to what, dude?”

Kip shot him a sceptical glance and tucked the laptop a little further under the covers.

“Listen, I don't have time for this, kid. If Cleo is your
friend you should tell me if you know anything about where she's gone. I'm not going to force her to come home or anything. I won't tell anyone else. I just want to make sure she's all right and to… well, I have to give her something.”

Logan looked at Kip in the dim glow of the chart lamp. Just a little kid with big eyes and a bunch of wires connecting him to all the hospital paraphernalia. Usually he was immune to all those cute kid things — save it for the commercials, for crissakes — but maybe this was different. After all, he knew something of what living with pain was like. He'd been there. He likely would be there again. And Kip just wanted to help. He tried again.

“Kip, you know I won't do anything to hurt Cleo. I promise. I know she's your friend, but I'm your friend, too, right? I taught you how to play Halo, dude — that's gotta count for something.”

Kip stared back at Logan for a long, silent moment, and then slid the laptop out from under the covers. “Okay, but I can only tell you a little. I'm not going to break my promise to Cleo.”

He flipped open the lid of the laptop and Logan saw to his surprise that instead of a computer game, Kip was in the middle of composing a letter on his e-mail account.