The Long Sleep by Caroline Crane Page A

closer.
    “Are they ever going to move him out of
ICU?”
    “That would be up to the doctor, and it would
depend on his condition.”
    Hank, wake up. Please.
    I was sure it would help if I could talk to
him. Touch him. But the hospital wasn’t going to change its policy.
People in ICU were not robust. I could understand that traffic had
to be regulated. The best I could do was look through that window
and try to send healing thoughts.
     

Chapter Six
     
    On Monday I began my
campaign to track down the newspaper staff. I didn’t know most of
them except by sight, and Southbridge High had hundreds of kids. I
knew some schools have thousands. But after Lakeside, Southbridge
seemed big to me. It included kids from Northbridge and several
other outlying districts. There was a Northbridge community, even
though the North Bridge itself was long gone.
    But Cindy Belcher I did know. I corralled her
next to her locker. It felt strange talking to her about Hank.
She’d been so antagonistic.
    She stared at me, blank-faced. Then said,
“Why can’t we stick to school news the way we always did?”
    “You mean fluff?” I said.
    That gave her an idea. “We could start a
gossip column!”
    “Do we need more fluff?”
    “It’s what people are interested in. Who
cares about the right to ... I can’t say it.”
    “Cindy, it’s an important issue. We don’t
want to be fluffheads all the time. And by some strange
coincidence, now Hank is there himself, or he might be. He’s still
unconscious. Did you know that? I think we should go ahead with his
plans.”
    Her lips moved very slightly. I imagined her
saying “It serves him right,” but I had no idea what she actually
said.
    “Okay, that’s up to you,” I told her. “I’ll
see what the others want to do, and Mr. Geyer. We can meet—”
    “Hey, I’m late for class!” She rushed
off.
    I was late, too. She didn’t even wait to hear
me out. For all I cared, she could drop the whole newspaper
thing.
    I knew I should talk to Mr. Geyer, but it was
hard to get hold of him before three o’clock. I didn’t see how he
could object if we wanted to keep things going.
    At three, I found him busily scooping papers
into his briefcase. He wore a rumpled blue shirt that looked as if
he’d slept in it. His socks didn’t match and he seemed in a hurry.
I didn’t have much time either. Ben would be waiting for me. It was
a real pain not having my own transportation.
    “Mr. Geyer, I assume we’re going ahead with
the newspaper even though Hank is, um—in the hospital.”
    “I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name.”
    “Maddie Canfield. I was here last week. That
was my first time. I know you left early, and Hank and I were—I
mean, he was with me. In my car . . .”
    “Oh, you’re the one.”
    “Yes. So I was wondering are we going ahead
with it?”
    I fidgeted while he thought it over. Maybe I
didn’t really need to consult with him. He seemed more of a
background figure. It was Hank who ran the show. Except for
now.
    Finally he spoke. “Are you taking over the
editorship?”
    “Well, no. I just thought—don’t we have an
assistant editor?” I thought we did but couldn’t remember who it
was. All those people were so new to me.
    He laughed. “Besides Hank? For this paper,
he’s the sun and the moon and the stars.”
    What an endorsement! Maybe Geyer really
wanted to write poetry instead of teaching chemistry, or steering a
bunch of kids on a school paper. I said, “Cindy Belcher thinks we
should have a gossip column.”
    “Then let her do it. She’s the only one who’s
come up with any ideas.”
    That wasn’t true. I said, “I kind of liked
Hank’s idea. It has depth. It’s not just fluff.”
    How else would you describe a gossip
column?
    Geyer was still on Hank’s idea. “It’s very
controversial.”
    “That’s what gives it depth. It’s a serious
subject.”
    He pondered the idea. I hoped Ben wouldn’t
leave without me. Home was a long way