Ms. Zephyr's Notebook
Page 2
You told me to write about something that interests me. You know what? Nothing interests me. Not in here, anyway. This place stinks. And I mean that literally. It stinks of Lysol or chlorine or some other kind of solvent that they use to clean up after dead people and disgusting living people who vomit all over themselves and the floor. Or those real losers who shit their pants.
Sorry, Abbie, but that one was worth it. So take my game away for an extra hour. It’s not going to change the fact that one of those losers is me.
Logan.
Evergreen Hospital
Dining and Catering
Department
To: Takehiko Ken, RN, Children’s Ward
cc. Ms. Abigail Zephyr,
Evergreen Hospital Education Department Head
Re: Patient Dietary Requirements
This is to confirm that meal and menu planning has been suspended for patient Logan Kemp, who has been placed by Dr. Valens on total parenteral nutrition, administered intravenously.
Thank you.
Alma Bellona, Hospital Dietician
November 5
Logan K.
Morning, at some point.
Okay, Abbie, I’m doing my thing, just like a good boy. Here’s your journal entry, since I can actually think of something to write. Because today there was a bit of excitement around this stupid hick-town hospital. You must love it, Abbie, ’cause it looks like you’ve landed yourself another victim.
So here’s the scoop. Sometime yesterday afternoon I hauled this Useless Contraption attached to my arm downstairs to the hole in the wall they call a “gift shop.” All I needed was a pair of decent batteries — no hope, of course. Now, if I’d wanted a hand-knitted toilet paper cover, it would have rocked. They had at least five of those.
I was just dragging Useless back to the elevator when the ambulance entrance doors flew open and the boys came flying in, pushing what looked like some bag lady on their cart.
Those poor guys. You’ve really got to feel for them. I mean, they get the excitement of racing through red lights and blaring the siren and all, but once they dump the contents of the stretcher into Emerg, well, they’re stuck here like gum to a shoe until whoever they’ve scraped off the highway is actually admitted.
But their lost freedom was my gained information. The nurses hauled Bag Lady onto a hospital gurney and whipped her out of sight. Good thing, too. She stunk like she’d peed herself. One of the ambulance guys slumped down into a chair and the other one went trolling for junk in the machines along the wall. I scammed a choc— ah, well, never mind what I scammed from him, Abbie. Let’s just say it wasn’t on my list of prescribed dining.
So I hauled Useless over…
Aw, geez. Looks like the vampires are back for more of my blood. Later, skater.
L.K.
Evergreen High School Interim Report
Date: November 5
Subject: English 10
Teacher: Mr. Jose Diego
Student Name: Logan Kemp
Student Number: 010461
Reason for Report: Student transfer
Current Class Standing: 63% [C]
Details:
This mid-term report is being produced at the request of Ms. Angela Kemp as a result of her son’s short-term transfer from our school to the Evergreen Hospital facility.
This is my second year as Logan’s English teacher. Logan seems to be working at a slightly lower productivity level than last year. Perhaps this can be attributed to his illness. As can be seen from his current grade standing, his effort in the class is only marginally above average. Logan does fairly well on in-class tests, however 6 of the 10 homework assignments expected so far this year have not yet been submitted.
I was very sorry to hear of the sudden onset of Logan’s illness and hope he is back at school soon. Perhaps his time in the hospital can best be used by making up some of his missing assignments.
Respectfully submitted,
Jose Diego
Evergreen High School
English Department Head
cc. Mr. Harold Duke,
Principal, Evergreen High
Mr. Jake Arnold,
Athletic Department Head, Evergreen High
Ms. Abbie Zephyr,
Teacher, Evergreen Hospital
Mr. Carter Kemp & Mrs. Angela Kemp,
parents
November 5
Logan K.
Around sunset, maybe? Can’t really tell.
Those nurses really know how to screw up a story. Okay, where was I? Oh yeah… so I moseyed on over to the chairs and plopped myself down between the attendants.
“Nice bag lady,” I said to the air.
The dude eating the chocolate gave me the eye. You know the look, Abbie, ’cause you do it so well. The old better-be-nice-to-the-kid-maybe-he’s-dying look.
“She’s no bag lady,” he said, kind of cautious.
The other guy leaned back in his chair and reached behind me to poke the first dude, warning-like.
“What? I was just making a comment. No need to poke your buddy there…” I leaned forward and read his name badge, “… uh, Shawn.”
“Listen, kid.” Shawn’s voice was all nasal, like a foghorn. “It’s none of your business who we bring in here. A little discretion, okay fella? The kid needs her privacy. Just leave her alone.”
“Kid?” I turned to the guy who had been the soft touch for the candy bar. “That smelly pile of clothes was a kid?” I propped my foot up on Useless, but it wheeled away on me, so I had to scramble up to grab it and put the brake on. By the time I got back, Shawn’s buddy — his badge read “Garth” — had clammed up, and his lips pressed together like he thought I was going to steal his gum or something.
“Guys, guys — if that’s a kid, I’ll find out soon enough, anyway. I’m the only one in the… the ward up there.” I couldn’t stand to say “Children’s Ward,” Abs. Hard enough having to stay here when I’m fifteen and all. You know how much I love those sticky little Winnie-the-Pooh characters half-peeling off all the walls around this place. “Just tell me what she’s doing here, okay? She looked pretty rough. Get hit by a car?”
“Nah, she just fell…,” started Garth, when Shawn shot him a glance.
I tried to look encouraging to Garth, but the next thing I knew the Emerg door opened and the battleaxe who calls herself the head nurse down there was waving forms at the ambulance guys. They signed up the paperwork quick as a wink and headed for the door.
“Don’t forget to give that nose a blow, Shawn,” I called out at him. “Nasty little cold you’re developing there!”
He fired me one last glare and was gone.
I hate that freakin’ exit sign. Always glowing away up there, even if the power goes out. It’s like some kind of portal for everybody else to use. Everybody but me.
So there’s your journal entry for today, Abbie. And I think I should get credit for tomorrow, too, since this is like four times longer than anything I’ve ever written for you. English homework all sewn up, wouldn’t you say? And I’m not going to tell you what that dumb-ass Garth left behind on his seat in Emerg. Let’s just say the stomach-ache was worth it.
L.K.
3
“Geez, Logan. You sounded pretty upset.” Logan shrugged. Probably not a good idea to let the kid know too much of what he was thinking. “Well, you know how it is. I got over it.”
Kip looked at him with those giant little-kid eyes. “I don’t know about that. I remember you were still pretty mad when I got here.” He pulled the notebook onto his own lap. “Look! The next bit is about Cleo. Let’s read that.”
Logan glanced at his watch. His stomach twisted with nerves, but he couldn’t let the kid see that. He just needed to get the information he came for and get out of here.
“Just a sec, Kip. Are they doing extra bed checks on you these days? Because if that nurse comes in here a
nd I get caught, I’m toast.”
Kip shook his head. “No, we should be good for a while. I can usually manage about an extra hour of computer time in between checks at night.” He grinned shyly. “I like playing that game you showed me. You know the one where you draw the line and the stick man drives along on his motorbike until he crashes?”
Logan had to smile back. At least the kid was learning. “Okay, we’ll keep reading for now, but I may have to make a fast exit at some point.”
He glanced down at the handwriting in the next section. The information had to be here. But if he grabbed the book and ran, the kid would turn on him. And he had to read it sometime. He couldn’t make a decision without it. The kid flipped the page and Cleo’s voice filled his head.
November 6
Cleo J. Jacqueline Hornby-Moss
9:17 a.m.
Good morning, Ms. Zephyr. This is my third day here at the Evergreen County Hospital, and I’m certain it will be my last. I’ve spent the past two days going through one test after another, each more horribly embarrassing than the one before.
I’m writing my journal here in your notebook because… well, because you asked me to. Everyone else who works around here has just told me what to do, but you just seem so nice and don’t act anything like that Medusa of a nurse. And of course, I will be going home soon, but just to humour you I agree to write a page or two. I hope you will appreciate the effort I have taken to design my own letterhead.
And so, Ms. Abigail Zephyr (such a nice, soft name you have), here is the information about me that you requested:
• My birth name is Cleopatra and I’m only telling you that for the sake of absolute veracity. I’m not going to put down my other names, because of course it is a mistake that I am here in the first place. And anyway, I much prefer to be called Jacqueline. Jacqueline Hornby-Moss. Isn’t it lovely? You may call me that if we get close, which we likely won’t since I plan on leaving here today.
• I am almost 14 — it’s just a little more than three weeks until my birthday. I’m in the ninth grade at Evergreen Middle School. Skipped fourth grade, which makes me the youngest in my class. They don’t usually do that anymore but in my case they made an exception. Next year will be high school, and I’ll have to take a bus out of Evergreen to the big consolidated school down the freeway. I have to say I am extremely nervous about the idea of high school, but in an excited sort of way. At least some of the time.
• I’m not really comfortable discussing the reasons that I have been admitted to this place. Obviously the nurses and doctors have made a mistake. I mean, a girl gets a little dizzy at school and everyone has a fi t. I did break my wrist in the fall down the stairs, but that can happen to anyone, right? Other than that I am in the prime of health. Couldn’t be better.
I think that’s all I can manage today, Ms. Zephyr. It’s been very nice to meet you.
Sincerely,
Jacqueline Hornby-Moss.
November 7
Jacqueline H-M.
10:42 a.m.
Dear Ms. Zephyr,
I’m afraid I find myself unable to call you by your first name as you have requested. First, I was taught that I must speak to older people in a formal way, so even though you seem quite young for a teacher, I still feel odd about it. And second, I have had a terrible blow this morning, and I believe you might be a part of the group working against me.
You did ask that I note down the time whenever I write in this journal, and from that I hope you can see that today it has taken me a great deal longer than yesterday to get down to work. I spent the morning arguing, Ms. Zephyr, with that Medusa of a nurse and the rest of those professional food pushers who all seemed to want to talk at once. There is nothing else wrong with me. It’s just a broken wrist. Anyone can have a broken wrist, especially if they have fallen down the stairs. You can hardly walk through the halls at school without seeing someone in a cast for a broken arm or a broken leg. It is not only me. Plus, I remembered this morning that I distinctly felt a push before I fell. I’m sure now that the whole thing was on purpose. Someone who doesn’t like me at school pushed me down the stairs. I suspect a Certain Person, though of course I don’t have the evidence to say so, and I would never dream of implicating anyone without proof. Even if she is the meanest girl in the school and would stoop to anything to get what she wants.
But when no one would believe me this morning, Ms. Zephyr, I had the single, faint hope that you would come to my aid. After all, when you asked me to participate in your tutoring session yesterday I attended more than willingly, in spite of the fact that I am here in error. I completed every assignment that you requested, including writing a journal page even though I get top marks in English and don’t really need the practice.
And regardless of what could have been quality reading time that I sacrificed to complete your busy-work, you still didn’t help me stand up against the doctors. I do not need a bone density test. My bones are fine, apart from the broken wrist, which as I have mentioned could have happened to anyone who may have had the misfortune to fall down the stairs. You did not support me, Ms. Zephyr. And the medication that Medusa has noted on the top of this page is making me sleepy and sad. I have nothing left to say except that I miss my dog Zoë and it is time for me to go home. I trust you will all come to your senses tomorrow.
Jacqueline Hornby-Moss
Evergreen Hospital
Abigail Zephyr
Evergreen Hospital Department Head, Education
Office: 101-45l6-7890
Parental Questionnaire
Requested by: Abigail Zephyr, interim teacher
To be completed by the parent of:
Cleopatra Jones
1 Please note down a brief description of your child’s attitude toward school.
She loves it! A straight A student, always.
2 What are your child’s general likes and dislikes?
Cleo loves everything and everybody. She is a dear child.
3 What are your child’s fears, if any?
None I can think of.
4 What would you like your child to accomplish academically during his/her hospital stay?
I’m not worried at all about Cleopatra’s school workload. I’m sure she will keep up her high standing while regaining her health.
5 What is your child’s favourite subject at school?
Not sure. I think she enjoys all of them. She is very clever and has always done exceptionally well at school. Following in her sister’s footsteps with straight A’s!
6 Other concerns you feel we should know about.
None, really. Cleopatra is very self-reliant. She doesn’t ever ask for help or express any worries at all.
November 7
Logan K.
After lunch, which didn’t resemble anything I’d call food.
Hey, Abbie, I can’t believe you wouldn’t accept my incredible vehicle list instead of writing this stupid journal today. That stinks. Just so you know, I plan to own every one of those cars one day. And I will, dude, since my dad is making a fortune working in Denver right now. He drives a pretty cool car himself. 2007 Hummer. Silver, too. All silver.
So, can you believe that new chick? A bit full of herself, in my opinion, though obviously not full of much else. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a pale, skinny thing in my life. She makes that Olsen twin look like a porker. She even makes me look fat!
Seems weird that they’d keep her here like that for just a broken arm, though. I heard one of the nurses say that she passed out at the top of the stairs at her school — just tipped over like a drunken monkey. I remember that staircase from when I went to Ev-Mid a couple of years ago. All cement and hard edges. No wonder her face is scraped up like that. She’s lucky she didn’t lose any teeth. My buddy Joe took a header off his board one day when he was cruising down a sweet pair of handrails just outside the office of
the school. Unfortunately, he didn’t know they’d recently put up anti-skate knobs all down the rails. Left his teeth all over the cement steps. So the skinny chick should consider herself lucky.
Maybe they’re keeping her here because she got some internal injury.
Who cares? I can hardly stand to hear her talk. She’s totally stuck up and wants to put everyone down by using words normal people have never heard of. Besides, she said she’s probably out of here tomorrow. Sayonara, sweetheart. Can’t say it’s been nice knowing you.
Logan
November 7
Logan K.
9 p.m. Primetime. Just what are you thinking, Abbie?
Geez, Abster. I’m missing all the good shows. You’ve never made me do homework this late. And you know what? This caf stinks at night. All I can smell is the grease from the cooking, if that’s what you call what they do down here. French fry grease and Lysol. It reeks, dude.
Okay, I know I was a little hard on the chick. So I’m sorry already. You can appreciate that I don’t really know her — I was just commenting on what I could see, right? But I want to get back to the TV, so here goes. And by the way, you can say goodbye to the remote. I’m hiding it tomorrow.
Okay, the chick with the scraped face and the broken arm is probably a good person because… ah… because…