Cries of the Children(28)

“Am-bi-dex-trous. Capable of using both hands equally well.”

“That’s right.” Samantha nodded. She laughed. “You’ll be able to do two homework assignments at one time.”

“Am I going to school soon?” Julie asked. “I’d like to meet some other children.”

“Oh, no,” Samantha said. “I’m sure you’ll return to school once we find your family. But there’s no need to worry about it for now.”

She quickly changed the subject.

“So, what have you been doing all morning? These drawings are lovely.”

She studied each picture, amazed at the details. It was as if a much older person had drawn them, instead of a child of nine. She half-expected the feeling of déjà vu she’d experienced with the beach picture to come back, but it never did.

“I’ve been drawing a lot,” Julie said. “And I did half the crosswords in that book.”

“Half!” Samantha cried. She picked up the book and glanced through it. Sure enough, most of the crosswords were finished, and what little she could scan showed they were done correctly. “Julie, you finished fourteen crosswords in just a few hours, on top of everything else?”

Julie wasn’t impressed with herself. “I would have done them all, but sometimes the nurses would come in and talk. It was more fun listening to them. One nurse had come down from upstairs, and she was telling her friend about twin babies that were delivered this morning. One of them was transverse breach, so they had to come out by cesarean.”

Samantha nearly dropped the crossword book.

“Do you understand any of that?”

“Sure,” Julie said. “Transverse means the baby’s back was pointing down instead of his head. And cesarean means—”

“I know what it means, sweetie,” Samantha said. This little girl would never fail to amaze her. “Julie, do you like babies?”

Julie nodded eagerly. “Maybe there’s a baby in my family?”

“That could be,” Samantha said, wondering if this was another piece to the Julie puzzle. “But I was wondering: would you like to see the babies upstairs?”

“Oh, yes!”

Samantha smiled at Julie’s eagerness. “Well, my good friend Dr. Huston works up there. Maybe she’s the one who delivered the twins. I have just a few more patients to see before my lunch break. Then we can go upstairs together, and you can take a peek in the nursery.”

“I’d like that a lot,” Julie said.

Samantha patted her head gently.

“Then it’s settled,” she said. She looked at the paraphernalia on the table. “Can you hold out for just another hour?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll be back for you when I’m finished with my morning rounds,” Samantha said. “See you later.”

When Samantha left, Julie went to the refrigerator and took out a container of juice. She poured some into a paper cup, returned the carton, and sat down again. As she drank the juice, she began to work on another puzzle.

She had noticed how astonished all the adults were when they saw the things she could do.

Am I really that different? she asked herself. She didn’t feel different.

Suddenly she remembered the boy named Marty. When he had rescued her in that crazy dream, he had said there were other children like her.

Julie did not consider Marty to be merely part of her vision. To her he was as real as the nurses who walked in and out of this lounge. She wondered if she would ever hear from him again, and if she’d ever meet the others he had mentioned. He had said she was special, but what did he mean?

She closed her eyes and tried to call him, but he did not answer. Sighing, she returned to the puzzle book.

Before she knew it, an hour had gone by. Throughout this time, Julie’s concentration was never broken by the sound of voices over the PA system or screaming ambulance sirens. She was able to block out these distractions without effort.

Expecting Samantha to return any moment to take her up to the nursery, she began to clean up the table. Once this job was finished, she went to the door and opened it. The emergency room was a flurry of activity, people rushing to and fro with serious, determined expressions. Maria, the triage nurse, was busy interviewing people. There were about fifteen teenagers here, some crying, some dazed, others being carried swiftly on stretchers.

“What happened?” Julie asked. Maria did not seem to notice her.

She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t you fret, little one,” Nanette said. “There’s been a bus acs’dent. Your . . . Dr. Winstead will be busy for a while.”