“You’re going to take it back,” Neddie barked into his friend’s ear.
Mikey cried, “You hurt me. You hurt my arm.”
Mike’s yowling and the metallic clanking of the lockers had stirred up everyone up in and around Ward Six. Fred Mouse was squeaking, “Yip-yip-yip.” Quarter to Ten was spinning, and Randy was way under his bed, keening as if his throat had been slit.
And now Nurse Mimi was in the doorway.
From behind her, Dr. Hoover pushed his way into the room.
He yelled, “Freeeeeeze.”
Neddie stepped away from Mike, who had collapsed in a damp, pee-smelling heap of dummy. Nurse Mimi went to Mike, and he wailed, “Neddie broke my arm.”
Dr. Hoover loomed above Neddie and said, “Your privileges are suspended, Edward. Effective now.”
Neddie joined the big fat baby chorus, crying in his peculiar high-pitched whine.
“He started it. I didn’t mean to hurt him. It was an accident. I’m sorry, Mikey.”
Nurse Mimi said, “Dr. Hoover, I believe him. Neddie never acts up. He’s a sweetie, aren’t you, dear?”
Hoover said to Mike, “Michael, you’re going to Saint Vartan’s, okay? Nurse Mimi, get a chair and take Mike to the ER.”
He turned back to Neddie and said, “Edward, you’re confined to the infirmary at night until further notice. Give me the keys to the alley.”
“Keys? No, Dr. Hoover. Please. The keys are mine.”
Hoover stuck out his hand. “Now, Edward.”
Neddie took his precious keys, his flight pass, from the hook in his locker and handed them to the doctor.
“Get your pillow.”
Neddie plucked his pillow from his bed, and clutching it, he walked ahead of Dr. Hoover down the speckled lino hallway, past the nurses’ station to the men’s infirmary.
“When can I come out, Dr. Hoover? When can I have my privileges back?”
“Behave, Edward. I’ll come for you in the morning and we will have a talk. Leave everything else to me.”
“Yes, okay, okay, Doctor.”
Neddie sat on the edge of the bed, assuming a posture that made him appear as meek and as harmless as a small, middle-aged loony tune could look. The infirmary door closed and locked.
He waited for the peephole to open and close, and once he was finally alone, Neddie held on to his head, and when he couldn’t suppress the pain, he raged around the very small room, which was four times the size of the dog kennel he’d slept in at Johnston. He knew that his situation had hit a patch of bad weather. Dangerous winds. Electric thunderstorms. Isolated tornados. None of that would get in his way.
Did Hoover think that he was such a dummy that in all these long years at the Bin, he’d never gotten spare keys? If Hoover knew where he’d gotten the sux, he’d probably kill himself.
Neddie flapped his arms and raged and made plans.
CHAPTER 75
I WAS HALFWAY into my drive to the Hall through morning rush when Claire called.
“I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news.”
I couldn’t read her tone of voice. I jerked the wheel, leftright, to avoid a pothole and continued up Masonic Avenue.
“Bad news first,” I said. “Give it to me straight. I can handle anything and I prove it every single day.”