The Hole in the Wall - Lisa Rowe Fraustino [64]
Ma didn’t sit, though. She stepped between Barbie and me and pulled us close. “Where they go, I go.” I squeezed her arm to thank her. She squeezed back.
That dahlia bulb nose turned bright red. Obviously Boots Odum didn’t like being contradicted. His lips pressed tight and he said, “The scanning room is designed for the patient and the doctor. Dr. Mills is not going to hurt your kids.”
“There won’t be any scanning of these precious bodies until you tell us why,” said Ma, locking Barbie and me under her arms. “I’m not letting you do some top secret classified experiment on my kids without knowing what it is! You’re about two inches away from a lawsuit, Boots.”
Hoo, boy, he didn’t like being called that. He stiffened like an adrified chicken with its mouth open, unable to cluck.
Just then a jazz riff played in his shirt pocket. He took the phone out and glanced at it before rolling his eyes and tossing his head impatiently. “Look, I’m trying to help you, Claire. I have a lot to do right now, and you’re not making it any easier.” He flipped the ringing phone open as he lifted it to his ear and said irritably, “Yes, what is it?” He stepped away and turned his back to us, carrying on his conversation in hushed tones.
“It’s fine, Ma,” Jed said gently, touching her arm. “Really. We’re just checking to make sure there isn’t any—anything seriously wrong. It’s like an X-ray or an MRI. It won’t hurt the twins. Believe me, I’ve been scanned plenty of times. Saved my life.” He crossed his heart.
Boots Odum turned briskly and said, “Doctor, we have a situation developing in Section A. I must trust you to take things from here.” And with not so much as a glance at us, he scanned his hand and took off running down the hall, heels clickety-clacking an urgent beat.
My stomach flipped when I saw that someone’s hand needed to pass a test to get out an ORC door, not just in. I closed my eyes and prayed we’d be allowed to leave. Never thought I’d be so homesick for the musty air of our teeny tiny house. And Grum. She’d tell these people what’s up and what’s down.
Dr. Mills’s eyelids fluttered rapidly as she watched the door slide closed, and a vein in her neck pulsed. She put her hand there in a way that made me think of Miss Beverly. “Mrs. Daniels, may I have your permission to scan Barb and Sebby now?”
Ma nodded numbly. Jed sat her down, and the doctor handed her a clipboard with papers to fill out.
“Barbara, please wait here until I’m finished with your brother. Sebastian, please follow me.”
We crossed the infirmary and entered a wide door. The doctor sat at a desk with a control panel and computer monitor over it, built into a wall made of green tinted glass.
“Before you go into the scanner, Sebby, I need to ask you a few questions,” she said, pulling up a roller stool for me to sit on. She wanted to know all the diseases I’d ever had (none, except colds, chicken pox, and growing pains) and all the bones I’d ever broken (none, except Barbie’s arm once by accident when I jumped on her). Then she asked about everything I’d had to eat or drink for the past few days, how many times I’d gone to the bathroom, and what everything looked like when it came out.
“Do you want to know about—?” I gave her the universal barf signal.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Tell me about your nausea.”
I made it as descriptive as possible, kind of hoping to gross her out, but she kept a straight face the whole time. Since I didn’t know how much to trust her, being ORC’s secret quarantine doctor and all, I did leave out a few details. Such as, how the barf raisins looked through the magic glasses. Which I didn’t tell her about borrowing from her boss. Or, where I happened to be when the cookie dough came up. Because I didn’t think it was any of her business that we had an amazing secret tunnel on our property. And I didn’t talk about my adventures with Celery since I didn’t eat or drink her. In fact I wasn’t planning to eat chicken or eggs ever again.
“Now please