Stacey's Emergency Part 9

"Perfect!"

"Really?" Charlotte looked very pleased.

"Positively. Do you want to help make the banner?"

"Positively!" replied Charlotte, grinning.

"I should call Claudia and everyone and see what they think about this."

"Call them right now," said Charlotte.

"Okay." Mary Anne headed back downstairs.

Charlotte ran after her. "Hey, guess what! My strep throat is gone! And I'm pretty sure I don't have Lyme disease or arthritis, or anything, either."

Mary Anne turned around. She hugged Charlotte. "You don't know how glad I am to hear that," she said.

"Who should we call first?" asked Charlotte, wriggling out of Mary Anne's grasp.

"Claudia, I think," answered Mary Anne. "She's got paint. We'll probably make the banner at her house tomorrow afternoon."

"I'll dial!" exclaimed Char.

So she did. Then she handed the receiver to Mary Anne. Mary Anne spoke to Claud, who loved the idea of welcoming me home. Within fifteen minutes, Dawn, Mal, Jessi, and Kristy knew about the party, too. Mary Anne a.s.signed jobs to everyone. My friends could not wait for Sat.u.r.day - and neither could I!

Chapter 15.

The highway stretched in front of us. I imagined it was the Yellow Brick Road, and that it led straight to my house.

Sat.u.r.day had arrived at last. I had been sprung from the hospital. And now that I was out of that bland room with its view of dingy gray, I really did feel like Dorothy in Oz. "Hey, Mom, there are colors out here!" I had exclaimed as a nurse helped me into our car.

Mom laughed.

The nurse smiled. "It was nice knowing you, Stacey," she said, "but I don't ever want to see your face here again!" (She didn't?) "Don't worry," the nurse went on, "I say that to all my patients. Stay well, okay?"

It was my turn to smile. "Okay." I paused. Then I added, "I hope 7 never see your face again, either!"

Grinning, the nurse turned the empty wheel- chair around and started toward the door of the hospital.

"Why do they always make me leave the hospital in a wheelchair?" I complained. "I can walk. I was walking in the hospital."

Mom shrugged. "Just hospital policy, sweetie." She turned the key in the ignition and at last I began to leave the hospital behind me.

The morning had been a little hectic. Mom arrived early to pack my suitcase, and to put all of my cards and gifts into shopping bags. Then she began to empty a vase of its flowers.

"Mom!" I exclaimed. "Can't we keep my flowers? Can't we take them home?"

"All of them?" replied Mom. The room was overflowing.

"Well, some of them," I said. "Maybe we could give the rest to the nurses or to the other kids here."

"Good idea," Mom had answered.

So we'd left two bouquets of flowers at the nurses' station. We had delivered four more bouquets to the kids I'd gotten to know the best (which wasn't very well), and we took three home with us.

While Mom was running around packing my suitcase and handing out flowers, Dad arrived to say good-bye to me. He knew that Mom would be there, and Mom knew that Dad was coming, so when they found themselves together in my room, they didn't talk, but they didn't argue, either.

"From now on," said Dad, "be sure to tell your mother or me when you're feeling so awful. You know the signs to look for."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I guess I wasn't very responsible."

Dad shook his head. "It wasn't your fault," he said.

"Then whose was it?"

Dad shrugged. "What difference does it make?"

"None, I guess."

A little while later, Dad and I were hugging good-bye.

"I promise that my next visit will be more fun," I said.

"I should hope so," Dad answered, smiling. "This'll be hard to top in terms of rotten vacations."

"There's always the sewage treatment plant," I said. "Maybe we could tour it the next time I come for a weekend."

"Okay," said my father. "Then we'll finish off the day with a ride on a garbage barge. We'll try to pick a hot, sunny afternoon so the garbage will be particularly disgusting and smelly."

"Dad, you are so gross!" I cried.

"That's what fathers are for," he replied, as he left my room.

When he was gone, Mom and I waited around for a doctor to come give me a final examination. Then we could . . . leave!

Now it was sometime in the early afternoon, and Mom and I were following the Yellow Brick Road back to our house on Elm Street in Stoneybrook, Connecticut. My eyes drooped as we drove along.

The next thing I knew, Mom was gently shaking my shoulder.

"We're almost home, Stace," she said.

"Okay," I replied groggily. Why was Mom waking me up? I would wake up by myself when she parked the car in - "I don't believe it!" I cried.

Mom turned to smile at me, "Everyone's glad you've come back."

"I guess so!"

We were turning the corner onto our street, and already I could see a bunch of balloons tied to our mailbox. And standing in the yard was a small crowd of kids. As we pulled closer, I could see all my BSC friends, Charlotte, Becca Ramsey, Jamie Newton, Myriah and Gabbie Perkins, and several of Mallory's brothers and sisters.

And then I saw the banner: WE'RE GLAD YOU'RE HOME, STAGEY! It had been hung across the front door. "I don't believe it," I said again.

Mom pulled into the driveway. "Your public awaits you," she said.

Slowly I got out of our car. As soon as I stood up, everybody began yelling and cheering and calling to me.

"Hi!" I cried.

And then there was this rush of bodies. I ran around the front of the car ("Slow down, Stacey," said Mom) and all the kids ran toward me. Soon I was hugging everyone, except the Pike triplets, who said they would die if a girl touched them.

"I'm so glad you're home," said Claudia.

"Oh, me, too!" I replied.

I looked down to see who was hugging my waist. It was Charlotte.

"I didn't really think you'd come back," she said. "But you're all well now."

The truth was, I would never be all well, but I didn't think this was the appropriate time to say so to Charlotte.

Mary Anne was standing at a picnic table. She ladled lemonade into paper cups, and the kids pa.s.sed them around. I sat down on the front stoop to drink mine - after I checked to make sure that it didn't contain any real sugar.

"Tired, Stace?" asked Dawn.

"Yeah," I admitted.

So Dawn broke up the party then. She sent the guests home, except for Claudia. By this time, Mom had emptied the car. She had carried the suitcase and shopping bags and vases of flowers inside.

"I think I'm going to lie down for awhile," I told Claud.

"Are you going to nap?" she asked.

"No. Just rest. Come with me, okay?"

Claud nodded. "Sure."

We stepped into my house. I breathed in deeply. "Ahhh. This certainly smells better than the hospital did."

Claudia giggled. "Come along, patient," she said.

"Okay, Nurse Claudia." I turned around. "Mom, Claudia and I are going upstairs!" I called.

"All right," my mother called back.

"I think I'm actually going to get in bed," I told Claud as we trudged upstairs. When we reached my room, I opened my window. "Fresh air," I murmured. Then I glanced around. "You don't know how nice it is to see colors other than gray and white."

I opened a drawer and took out a clean nightgown.

"Oh, yes, I do," Claud replied, thinking of her own stay in the hospital after she'd broken her leg.

I changed into my nightgown and crawled into bed. Claudia and I gabbed until I started to fall asleep.

"I'll call you later/' said Claud as she left.

"Okay. Thanks." I drifted off to sleep, thinking, There's no place like home. There's no place like home.

I slept for several hours. When I woke up, I felt well enough to eat dinner in the kitchen with Mom. But after that, I was tired again.

"I think I'll go to bed soon," I told my mother. "But first, can you come upstairs so we can talk?"

"Of course." Mom followed me back to my room, where I crawled under the covers again. She sat on the edge of my bed.

"This is something I've been-trying to tell you and Dad for a long time now," I began. I drew in a deep breath. "Okay. Here's the thing. I am not going to be the monkey for you guys anymore."

"The monkey?"

"Yeah. I feel like the monkey in monkey-in-the-middle. Dad's always trying to get information about you from me. And you try to find out about Dad from me. And both of you send nasty messages through me. That's not fair. So from now on, I'm not talking about you to Dad or about Dad to you, and I'm not delivering any messages. I'll call Dad in a few minutes and tell him all this, too."

"Okay," said Mom, nodding her head. "So far what you've said seems reasonable."

"I also want to apologize," I went on. "I know I've been crabby lately, but I wasn't feeling well. Plus, I guess I've been mad at you guys."

"Apology accepted. And my apologies to you for making you feel like a monkey."

I smiled. "Thanks. When I call Dad, I'll also tell him that I'll visit him more often, and without any arguments. I'll be happy to go to New York when I'm feeling better and when I know I won't be the monkey."

"Fair enough," said Mom.

"One last thing. I have to make a confession." I paused because I could feel tears coming to my eyes. "Um, I'm really sorry about all this, but I think the reason I went into the hospital was that I stopped following my diet." I told my mother about the fudge and the candy and everything.

Then I began to cry.

Mom put her arms around me. "Honey," she said softly, "you shouldn't have done that, but the doctors are pretty sure your diet didn't have much to do with the change in your blood sugar level. You haven't been feeling well for a long time now, have you?"

I shook my head. "No, I haven't." I was still crying.

"And you know that being a diabetic, especially with this kind of juvenile-onset diabetes, you're much more susceptible to infections than other people are. Plus, because diabetes can be a mean disease, once you've gotten an infection, then you're more open to problems with your insulin. It's a vicious cycle. We've been lucky so far, but lately you've had the flu and a sore throat - "

"And bronchitis, remember?"

"That's right. I'd forgotten. Furthermore, you've been incredibly busy. So I'm sure that eating the sweets didn't help anything, but I'm also sure that that's not why you got sick."

I had stopped crying. I pulled away from Mom. "Maybe I should slow down a little," I told her.