Page 10 of Ward D
“I didn’t hear you.” I grab my backpack, which I had rested on the ground since it weighs about five metric tons. “I was worried about that little girl over there.”
She squints at me. “What little girl?”
I look over my shoulder, back at the yard. The little girl seems to have wandered away. Oh well—I’m sure she’s fine. “Never mind. Are you ready to study?”
The plan is to go to my house. We used to go to Jade’s house all the time, but for some reason, she’s gotten weird about letting me come over. It’s too bad, because Jade’s mom is way cooler than mine. First of all, she’s never home. There are usually no adults around at all. I’ve never met her dad before. I’m not even sure if Jade knows who he is—in the past, she’s told me he’s in the military deployed overseas, an astronaut visiting the moon, and once that he died before she was born.
“I don’t feel like studying right now,” Jade says. “I’m all studied out. Why don’t we hang out behind the school?”
It hits me now what that smell is emanating from Jade’s clothing. She’s been hanging out behind the schoolsmoking potwith the stoner kids.
“Jade,” I say, “I seriously need to study.”
“Ugh, you arealwaysstudying.” Her voice takes on a whiny edge. “For once, why don’t we have some fun? You know, Steve Alcott said he thinks you’re cute.”
“If I don’t get a good grade on this test, I’m going to get like a C in math and my mom is going to kill me. And my college applications are going to be screwed.”
“So?”
“So you promised me we could study together and you would help me!”
“And I will.”
“No. You’re not helping meat all.”
I look at Jade’s familiar face and wonder what happened to our friendship. She used to care about the same things I did. She didn’t just shrug her shoulders at the idea of getting a bad grade.
“You need tochill, Amy.” She rests a hand on my shoulder. “This will all work out. Trust me.”
“How? How will it all magically work out?”
Jade rolls her eyes. “Fine. Be that way. But I’m going to go hang out withfunpeople.”
“Jade…”
Before I can say another word, she’s marching away. So much for our study session. I guess I’ll have to muddle through it on my own.
I toss my now empty bottle of iced tea into a trash can and take one last look back at the yard, where that little girl was standing. I didn’t see any other kids or parents come by to pick her up, but I don’t see her anywhere. I crane my neck, searching the area around the school for that pink frilly dress and the blond curls but it’s like she vanished into thin air.
She must have left.
6
PRESENT DAY
The person who opens the door to the locked unit is a woman in her forties wearing flower-printed scrubs and a badge pinned to her chest that says “Ramona” in large block letters, with the last name “Dutton” beneath in much smaller letters. Her hair is pulled back into a sensible bun, and she looks like the no-nonsense sort of nurse who has been doing this job for the last twenty years and will be doing it for another twenty years. I can imagine this woman administering shock therapy without blinking an eye.
She narrows her eyes at me and Cameron, sizing the two of us up with one sharp look. “Yes?”
Cameron steps forward first, ever the charmer. “I’m Cameron Berger and this is Amy Brenner. We’re the medical students assigned to work here overnight tonight.”
Ramona looks us over one more time, then glances back over her shoulder. She hesitates for a beat, and I’m almost worried she’s going to turn us away. Well, maybeworriedisn’t the right word. More like,hopeful.
“Yes, fine,” she says. “Dr. Beck is at the nurses’ station. He’ll give you an orientation.”
Much like all the other units in the hospital, the psych ward is shaped like a circle. Cameron and I travel in an arc in the direction of the nurses’ station. We reach it at about ninety degrees. And sure enough, a man is standing at the nursing station, wearing green scrubs and a long white coat with the name Richard Beck, MD embroidered over the left breast. When he sees us approaching, he raises his right arm enthusiastically.
“Hey there!” he says. “I’m Dr. Beck. You must be…” He reaches into the pocket of his white coat and pulls out a copy of the med student call schedule, which he takes a moment to inspect. “Cameron and Amy. Yes?”
