Magic Street by Orson Scott Card
Authors: Orson Scott Card
Tags: Fiction, General, Fantasy, Contemporary, SF, Fantasy Fiction; American, Science fiction; American, Los Angeles (Calif.), Abandoned children, Baldwin Hills (Los Angeles; Calif.)
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about."
Which embarrassed him way more than he already was—no doubt that's what she had in mind.
But he didn't go away, he kept watching, right through the diapering. Ceese had never seen anybody diapered before, being the baby of the family. It looked easy enough. He said so.
"That's cause we have these little sticky tabs on a paper diaper," said Miz Smitcher. "Not all that long ago, diapers were made of cloth, and you had to pin them into place, and like as not you'd stick the baby or your own finger and then there'd be screaming and cussing like you wouldn't believe. And then when the diaper's all covered with feces or soaked with urine, you got to take it to the toilet and rinse it off and then load it all into the washing machine. Up to your elbows in piss and poop, that's what it was like to have a baby in the old days. Up to about thirty years ago."
"Man," said Ceese. "Was that back when they still fed babies out of bottles, or did they already invent the tit by then?"
Oh, the glare she gave him. But he could see from the way she clenched her lips to keep from smiling that she wasn't really mad.
And when the baby was clean and diapered and in a little undershirt that looked like doll clothes, back he goes into Ceese's arms while Miz Smitcher sees to the paperwork about getting the baby turned over to state custody.
Ceese couldn't hear much from where he was, but he could see that Miz Smitcher was getting angrier the longer it took. Not only that, but three times somebody came down from wherever it was that Miz Smitcher was supposed to be on duty, telling about how they needed her up there right now.
So he got up and walked over to her, holding the baby. "Miz Smitcher, I can stay here all day if you just call my mom and tell her I'm with you. That way you can go do your shift and then they can get all their paperwork done and we can take the baby home then."
Miz Smitcher looked at him like he was insane. "I'm not taking this baby home."
The woman behind the desk said, "They'll find a foster home in a few days, it just takes time."
"Then the baby stays here in the neonate unit," said Miz Smitcher.
"But the baby isn't sick and the baby wasn't born here, so as I've told you, Ura Lee, there ain't no way in hell the hospital is going to admit that baby because who's going to pay for it?"
"Well if you're going to pay hospital rates for babysitting," said the desk lady, "why don't you just take the baby home and let this boy here babysit for you? Just till they get a foster family for it."
"Him," said Ceese.
"What?" said the desk lady.
"Baby's a him, not an it."
"Baby doesn't understand a word we're saying, so I doubt that I have offended it or negatively affected its gender-role identification process," said the desk lady.
"He's a boy," said Ceese. "He's alive. I found him."
The desk lady pursed her lips and looked at the papers on her desk.
Miz Smitcher jabbed him in the arm, but not so hard as to hurt. Ceese looked up at her. She was doing all she could to keep from grinning.
"Seems to me," the desk lady said, "this stubborn young man here has offered you the best solution. You might as well get paid for part of this day, and he seems to be quiet enough."
"Baby's going to need feeding," said Miz Smitcher.
"You're bound to be right about that," said the desk lady.
"They got bottles and formula up in neonate," she said.
The desk lady sighed. "Miz Smitcher, now you're just trying to make me tired. You know perfectly well that I can't admit that baby. But you also know perfectly well that if you take that boy up to neonate and let those nurses coo over that baby for a while, a bottle or two is bound to fall off the cart at feeding time. Along with a few clean diapers now and then."
Miz Smitcher grinned. "I always like hearing practical advice."
The desk lady went on muttering as they walked away. "Make me say it out loud. Knew it perfectly well from the start. Stubborn..."
"I hope you were serious
Which embarrassed him way more than he already was—no doubt that's what she had in mind.
But he didn't go away, he kept watching, right through the diapering. Ceese had never seen anybody diapered before, being the baby of the family. It looked easy enough. He said so.
"That's cause we have these little sticky tabs on a paper diaper," said Miz Smitcher. "Not all that long ago, diapers were made of cloth, and you had to pin them into place, and like as not you'd stick the baby or your own finger and then there'd be screaming and cussing like you wouldn't believe. And then when the diaper's all covered with feces or soaked with urine, you got to take it to the toilet and rinse it off and then load it all into the washing machine. Up to your elbows in piss and poop, that's what it was like to have a baby in the old days. Up to about thirty years ago."
"Man," said Ceese. "Was that back when they still fed babies out of bottles, or did they already invent the tit by then?"
Oh, the glare she gave him. But he could see from the way she clenched her lips to keep from smiling that she wasn't really mad.
And when the baby was clean and diapered and in a little undershirt that looked like doll clothes, back he goes into Ceese's arms while Miz Smitcher sees to the paperwork about getting the baby turned over to state custody.
Ceese couldn't hear much from where he was, but he could see that Miz Smitcher was getting angrier the longer it took. Not only that, but three times somebody came down from wherever it was that Miz Smitcher was supposed to be on duty, telling about how they needed her up there right now.
So he got up and walked over to her, holding the baby. "Miz Smitcher, I can stay here all day if you just call my mom and tell her I'm with you. That way you can go do your shift and then they can get all their paperwork done and we can take the baby home then."
Miz Smitcher looked at him like he was insane. "I'm not taking this baby home."
The woman behind the desk said, "They'll find a foster home in a few days, it just takes time."
"Then the baby stays here in the neonate unit," said Miz Smitcher.
"But the baby isn't sick and the baby wasn't born here, so as I've told you, Ura Lee, there ain't no way in hell the hospital is going to admit that baby because who's going to pay for it?"
"Well if you're going to pay hospital rates for babysitting," said the desk lady, "why don't you just take the baby home and let this boy here babysit for you? Just till they get a foster family for it."
"Him," said Ceese.
"What?" said the desk lady.
"Baby's a him, not an it."
"Baby doesn't understand a word we're saying, so I doubt that I have offended it or negatively affected its gender-role identification process," said the desk lady.
"He's a boy," said Ceese. "He's alive. I found him."
The desk lady pursed her lips and looked at the papers on her desk.
Miz Smitcher jabbed him in the arm, but not so hard as to hurt. Ceese looked up at her. She was doing all she could to keep from grinning.
"Seems to me," the desk lady said, "this stubborn young man here has offered you the best solution. You might as well get paid for part of this day, and he seems to be quiet enough."
"Baby's going to need feeding," said Miz Smitcher.
"You're bound to be right about that," said the desk lady.
"They got bottles and formula up in neonate," she said.
The desk lady sighed. "Miz Smitcher, now you're just trying to make me tired. You know perfectly well that I can't admit that baby. But you also know perfectly well that if you take that boy up to neonate and let those nurses coo over that baby for a while, a bottle or two is bound to fall off the cart at feeding time. Along with a few clean diapers now and then."
Miz Smitcher grinned. "I always like hearing practical advice."
The desk lady went on muttering as they walked away. "Make me say it out loud. Knew it perfectly well from the start. Stubborn..."
"I hope you were serious
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