Lark leaned back and tapped his full lower lip while he mused, “So, it’s definitely someone from work, not someone you met for the first time last night. What’s the name of that doctor you’re always complaining about? Canning? Cunning?”
I grimaced and muttered, “Koenig.” Damn it, once again I’d forgotten Lark was much shrewder than he seemed.
He bounced in his seat. I was surprised he was actually in a chair for once. “That’s it! Wow, you slept with your arch enemy!”
“It’s overstated to call him my arch enemy. We’re just two people who get on each other’s nerves.”
“Except when you’re boning, apparently.” That came from Eliot, who was smirking.
I turned to him and said, “You can’t tell your cousin. Yolanda will flip if she finds out. She can’t stand Koenig, so she’s going to think I’ve lost my mind.”
Kel knit his brows and exclaimed, “You shouldn’t care what people think! It’s nobody’s business who you want to be with. Even if they’re friends or family, they still don’t get a vote.” He looked around self-consciously and added, “I think I’m projecting. I guess that’s what happens when you spend a year in love with a guy who’s still totally in the closet and treats you like a dirty little secret.”
Everyone immediately turned their attention to Kel and offered him words of encouragement, but he tried to shrug it off by saying, “I’ll be alright. Let’s not make a big deal out of it, okay?”
In response, Lark fished around in the pocket of his hoodie, pulled out a wrapped lollipop, and handed it to Kel, who perked up and smiled. Sometimes the simplest responses were the best ones, apparently.
When I arrived at the hospital and stepped onto the pediatrics floor, the first person I saw was Koenig. I had no idea what he was doing there on a Sunday. He was walking toward me, reading a clipboard. Then he glanced up and saw me.
A lot of different emotions played over his features in rapid succession, including embarrassment. Eventually, he landed on horror, and he turned and fled in the opposite direction.
Wow, okay. So, in other words, this was going to be awkward as hell.
I dropped off my backpack and jacket in my locker before heading to Oscar’s room. “Hi, Casey,” he said with a smile. “I like your T-shirt. That’s funny.” It featured a cartoon of a gray seal sticking its head out of the water, with a speech balloon that said, “I approve.”
“Thanks, it’s a personal favorite.” I pulled the chair closer to his bedside and asked, “So, are you ready to dive back into the book?” He nodded enthusiastically.
We only read for about forty minutes before he fell asleep. The higher dosage of pain meds was definitely causing drowsiness, but it wasn’t a bad thing that he was getting some extra sleep. I returned the book to his side table, slipped out of the room as quietly as possible, and went to the nurse’s station.
A nurse named Les was seated at the desk, and he shot me a look and said, “You’re really early, by more than an hour.”
“I know. I wanted to read to Oscar Harris in two-twelve before my shift, but he dozed off.” There was a copy of the daily schedule on a clipboard, and I reached for it over the high counter that fronted the desk. I scanned it and asked, “If Doctor Koenig isn’t on the schedule today, why did I see him lurking when I got here?”
“He’s filling in for Doctor Abara. He was just supposed to be taking calls, but he came in when I reached out to tell him one of the patients had an allergic reaction to her new antibiotics.”
“Which patient?”
“Lizzy Kim in two-oh-six.”
“Is she okay now?”
“Yeah, much better. Koenig wants us to keep checking her every hour around the clock though, to be on the safe side.”
Koenig was thorough, no doubt about it. In fact, he was great at his job, except for the part that involved having any people skills whatsoever.
I actually had a question I wanted to ask him about Oscar’s party, so I headed back to the row of doctors’ offices. The whole section was empty and all the doors were closed, including Koenig’s, but at my knock that ever-annoyed voice demanded, “What is it?”
When I opened the door and stepped inside, he stood up quickly and blurted, “What do you want?”
“Relax. I just have a question for you.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”
“Would it be okay if I brought in cupcakes for Oscar Harris’s birthday next week? I’m planning to get them from a bakery, not bake them myself, if that makes a difference. I know he doesn’t have any dietary restrictions, but I also know they’re just empty calories, so—”
“No, that’s fine. Go ahead.” After a pause, he asked suspiciously, “Was there anything else?”