Broken Wings 2 - Midnight Flight Andrews, C. (books for students to read TXT) 📖

me like that after my horrendous episode.”

“Well, then,” Mindy said, “maybe your episode wasn't as horrendous as you make it out to be.”

“What are you talking about? You were there when they brought me back. You saw.”

Mindy shrugged. “I know how to put it on, too.”

“Put it on? Listen to that. Phoebe, tell her what it's like to be stung by one of those .. . things.”

I looked up. “It's painful, makes you nauseous. I think I even had a fever.”

“See?” Teal jumped on the end of my words.

“That's Phoebe, not you,” Mindy said, barely looking at her.

“I wish it happens to you, that's all. Then we'll see how horrendous it is and isn't.”

“And I wish you get bitten by a rattlesnake in the bathroom in your you know what,” Mindy countered.

Teal flung a glob of her mashed potatoes at her, hitting her in the cheek.

“Bitch!” Mindy screamed. She was about to toss her glass of cranberry juice at her when M'Lady Three appeared in the doorway.

“Problem?” she asked.

“No,” Mindy said quickly.

“You're a bit of a messy eater, aren't you, Mindy? Why don't you do all the dishes, silverware, and clean off the table yourself tonight? Maybe that will make you neater. You have any problem with that?” she asked quickly.

“No,” Mindy said, shaking her head. Some of the mashed potato fell to her plate. She wiped her chin and looked away quickly.

“Good. The rest of you, except for Phoebe bird, return to the barracks. Let's go.”

Teal, Robin, and Gia rose. Mindy lowered her head, but I could see the tips of her ears were so red, they looked like tiny candle flames. She didn't lift her head until they were gone.

“She'll be sorry,” she muttered. “Just wait and see.”

“Don't get into a fight again, Mindy. They're just hoping you will,” I advised her. “And then you'll know what it's like in the Ice Room.”

She looked at me with surprise, not expecting anything nice or kind from anyone, I think, especially one of us.

“Right,” she said. “Thanks.” She began to gather the dirty plates and bowls. I thought about helping her, but something told me Dr. Foreman watched us in this room. Maybe there really were microphones or secret cameras all over this place.

“See you later,” I said, and went out and down to Dr. Foreman's office.

To my surprise she wasn't sitting behind her desk, but on the sofa instead. She was reading a magazine and looked up and smiled.

“Hi. Come on in.”

I did and she indicated I should sit on the sofa.

“I can't believe some of the fashions young people your age are wearing these days. Look at this, for example.” She turned the magazine to show me an actress wearing what looked like nothing more than two large Band-​Aids over her breasts and a flimsy skirt. She had what resembled a dog collar around her neck. “And she's about to enter some award show. Would you wear that?”

I shook my head.

“I didn't think so. Mindy might. She probably wore things like this. She was a classic nymphomaniac, you know. You know what that is, of course.”

“A nympho? Someone who has a lot of sex.”

“Yes. Only she had those tendencies ever since junior high school, even sixth grade. To me a girl who isso wild and loose with her body has no respect for herself. I know your mother was very loose, right?”

I nodded. What could I do, deny it? She obviously knew a lot about all of us, and I did write about some of Mama's sexual escapades when I wrote my autobiography for Dr. Foreman.

“I'm impressed that you don't have those tendencies, Phoebe, but you did get yourself into trouble because of sex in your new school, didn't you?”

“I guess so.” I had met a boy in the nurse's office as he had preplanned and the nurse caught us. It wasn't something I had done often before. In fact, I had never done anything that serious in school. I wanted to explain it, of course, describe how I had been desperate and angry and didn't care. However, she didn't need my explanation.

“You were most likely getting at your aunt. You wanted to embarrass her and your uncle, didn't you? You didn't want to be there and you were hoping you would be sent home, back to Atlanta, where you could be with your father, right?”

“Yes.”

"Only he wasn't home very much. You would have ended up even worse than you did, Phoebe. In a way you were lucky to get into so much trouble so quickly and be sent here. I can't imagine what would have become of you had you not been picked up at the clinic. Strike that. I can imagine. I've seen girls who had to live in the streets. It's not a pretty sight, and their life expectancy isn't any better than the life expectancy of young women in some third world countries.

“Sometimes”—she sighed and looked toward the window, which had the curtains drawn open for a change—"I feel as if I have been chosen for my work,

given all this responsibility by a higher power.“ She looked pensive for a moment, then shook her head and smiled. ”Here.“ She handed me the magazine. ”I'm sure you're interested in all this nonsense anyway."

I looked at the magazine. I did want it, but if I took that and brought it back to the barracks, I would have some explaining to do.

On the other hand, I saw that if I didn't take it, she would be angry, suspicious, and I was more afraid of that than anything.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You're welcome, Phoebe. So, tell me, how did Gia treat you today?” she asked, holding her soft, friendly smile.

There was little question in my mind that she already knew.

“She was angry because I told you what she had said about Posy.”

“Her Posy,” Dr. Foreman muttered. “Yes. You told her you had no choice, of course.”

I nodded.

“You're free to tell the other girls about it. If Gia sees no