Music in the Night (Logan 4)

He looked at Megan.

"Yeah, Lawrence. We're hungry for your wonderful company," she said.

"I'll see you inside." He glanced at me and turned away. "I've got to do something before dinner," he added and walked toward the building.

"I wonder what that could be, Lawrence," Megan called after him. "What could you do alone in your room? I hope it's not what I think it is. I hope it's not what other boys your age do with themselves."

Her words and laughter made him walk faster.

"Why do you pick on him like that?" I demanded. "He was doing so well."

She looked at me as if I spoke another language.

"I don't pick on him. I don't pick on anybody." She paused, making her eyes smaller. "Are you siding with them already? You just got here and you're siding with them?" she accused.

"With whom?"

"With whom?" she mimicked. "You'd better be careful," she warned. "You just better be careful. First they win your trust and then . . . then . . ." Her lips trembled and her chin quivered. She had her hands clenched into fists and her arms extended and against her sides again. She looked like a soldier frozen in place.

"Megan? Are you all right?"

Her eyelids fluttered. Then she looked at me and relaxed.

"Of course I'm all right. I have to be all right. I have to be sharp, aware. I'm . . . going back inside. I've got to get Lulu. She doesn't know enough to get herself to dinner. She keeps waiting for her daddy. Her daddy. Daddies," she spit, as if it were a profanity. "She should be happy he never comes around."

She turned and walked after Lawrence. Why did she hate daddies?

12

Shadows of My Mind

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Everyone seemed more subdued at dinner.

Their voices were low and there was very little laughter. Those who were unable to feed themselves were seated together and served by the attendants. The rest of us moved through the cafeteria line. There were two choices for an entree, turkey or halibut. Everything smelled and looked good. Mrs. Anderson supervised with pride. If I closed my eyes and listened, I couldn't tell I was in a clinic.

"Does this cafeteria remind you of your school?" Lawrence whispered from behind me.

"It's familiar," I said, "but I can't recall anything specific."

"I went to a private school," he said. "I always did. The food was pretty good there, too, and it didn't have many more students than there are patients here," he added, but he sounded like it wasn't a happy experience.

"Some of us back here are hungry," Megan said to prompt us to stop talking, take our food, and move down the line.

I hurried along, noticing how Mary Beth skipped taking bread or dessert and then pushed her food apart, as if to let anything touch would contaminate everything.

This time Megan, Mary Beth, Lulu, Lawrence, and I all sat at the same table. No one else seemed to want to join us.

"What are you waiting for?" Megan asked me. "Eat before it gets cold."

I hadn't realized I was sitting there, not touching any silverware, while everyone else, even Mary Beth, had begun.

"I don't know," I said, sensing a blank that wanted to be filled in desperately, "but you're right. I feel like I am waiting for something before we eat, something that should happen first . . ."

"My daddy used to tell us all about his day at work at dinner," Lulu said. "And then he would tell us stories about when he and my mother were young."

"He was probably never there for dinner. Didn't your parents get divorced when you were a baby?" Megan reminded her.