Music in the Night (Logan 4)

"Home sweet home," someone in the back muttered.

The dark-haired girl by the counter suddenly spun around and then spun around again as if she were dancing a ballet. One of the attendants nearby moved quickly to her side and seized her hand. He spoke to her quietly and she gazed at the floor.

When I looked to the right, I noticed a female attendant hand-feeding a boy who looked at least twelve or thirteen. She encouraged him to feed himself, but he merely stared ahead, opening his mouth and chewing mechanically as she scooped the food into it and then wiped his lips.

"Go to the counter and get what you want," Mrs. Kleckner said. "There's juice, cereals, and eggs, if you like. Mrs. Anderson is our cook. She can make some special things for you if your requests are reasonable and she has enough notice. You can sit anywhere you like," she added.

I crossed the cafeteria, feeling all eyes upon me. The dark-haired girl had been moved along and sat with the attendant at her side. She sipped on a glass of orange juice and stared ahead.

"Hello, Laura," Mrs. Anderson said. She had a wonderfully happy smile, her eyes bright and cheery. "Would you like some scrambled eggs this morning?"

"Yes," I said. "Thank you."

I suddenly realized that I was very hungry. I chose grapefruit juice and plucked a roll from the basket. Mrs. Anderson scooped the eggs onto a plate and put a piece of melon beside them.

"Enjoy your first breakfast with us," she said.

"Thank you."

I took the plate, put it on my tray, and turned. Many of the other residents were still staring at me, but a number had gone back to their own breakfasts and conversations. Some looked absolutely terrified that I would stop at their tables as I made my way through the room.

"Sit here. You'll be safe," a pretty red-haired girl said. There was another, shorter and youngerlooking girl with her. The younger girl wore a jeans skirt and a frilly white blouse. Her blond hair was tied in two long, thick pigtails.

"Thank you," I said and took the empty seat at their table.

"My name's Megan Paxton," the red-haired girl said. She had a button nose and a small mouth. Her eyes darted about as if she expected trouble.

"I'm Laura," I said, confident of that little bit of information.

"Laura what?" the younger girl asked. She looked like a doll because

of her tiny features.

"I can't remember my full name," I said. "I can't remember anything," I admitted, as if that were a crime and this was a jail instead of a clinic.

"Around here, that's an advantage," Megan said. "You're lucky," she said dryly. "I can't forget anything. When did you arrive?"

"Some time last night. I think," I said "It all still seems fuzzy in my head.- I drank my juice.

Megan darted her eyes about again. I began to look in the directions she was surveying to see if there was something I should notice, too.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"I'm just waiting to see if he's still here. They claim," she said, widening her eyes and hoisting her eyebrows, "that they fired him yesterday."

"Who?"

"Garson Taylor, one of the attendants. He tried to rape me," Megan said.

"Really?"

"Of course, really," she snapped. "What do you think, I'm making it up? Well, do you?" she drove at me, her face full of fire, her eyes wide.

"No, I'm . . I'm sorry. I was just surprised by what you said."

"Well don't be surprised. Be alert. All the men here have one thing on their minds and you don't have to take two guesses to figure out what it is either," she said. "When they look at you, they're looking through your clothes."

"That's terrible."