The warm afternoons were the most difficult times for the children in Ward A, especially the older kids who couldn’t yet get out of bed and move around. Technically she was on an extended lunch because she would be on duty all night, but since she had nothing else to do, Glory decided to help out. The nurses hurried as fast as they could, but it wasn’t possible to meet everyone’s demands at once. The pathetic cries of those who had to wait for relief affected the others who watched in fear or studiously looked away to avoid seeing more pain. Enough was too much. GloryAnn clapped her hands. “Is there anyone who’d like to hear a story about a girl named Frizzy?” “You don’t have a book, Doc.” Germaine, a preteen from the rougher side of New York, had been burned in an altercation between gangs and now used his bravado to bully his way through treatment. “How you gonna tell this story?” “It’s all up here, buddy,” she told him, tapping her temple. Germaine’s role as leader was well established in the ward.
