daisy6

"This is stupid, Norma Lynn!" the principal fumes, pacing around the lobby
in the reform school. "You can't waltz out on me with no notice!"

The secretary ignores her boss and goes on dumping the contents of her desk
drawers haphazardly into a cardboard box. Mr. Brown trudges into the lobby
and slips his time card into the slot on the clock in the corner. He
punches the button that ends his double shift and pushes his copper-colored
bangs wearily off his forehead.

"Norma Lynn, I'll put that box in your trunk," the security guard says.
"Are you parked out front?"

"Don't egg her on, Stan!" Mr. Landon snaps. "She isn't quitting, damn it!"

"Is that a fact?" Mr. Brown laughs. "It looks to me like she's got on her
walking shoes."

"She'd do better with galoshes." Abel Perez, the new night guard, hurries
into the lobby from the parking lot. A gust of cold wind blows in with him.
"It's raining like crazy out there."

Mr. Brown shrugs into his denim jacket and unclips the walkie-talkie and the
ring of keys from his belt. As the night guard reaches out for the gear, a
red light on the radio starts to blink.

Mr. Brown presses the transmitter key. "Daisy? Do you need something,
honey?"

When he lets off the button, a flood of frightened sobs pours out of the
crackling speaker on the walkie-talkie, followed by a few jumbled words.
Mr. Brown lifts the radio and tilts the speaker toward one ear, straining to
make sense of the gibberish.

Then he presses the transmitter key again and speaks firmly. "Listen, you
have to calm down so I can help you. Take a deep breath, right now." He
waits. "Okay, tell me. What's going on?"

"I don't know!" Daisy's voice quavers, but her words ring out clearly in
the quiet lobby. "I woke up a minute ago, and my legs were smarting and
tingling all the way down to my feet! I can't get them to stop!"

Mr. Brown bolts out of the lobby and races toward the isolation unit. The
night guard and the secretary are hot on his heels. The principal, left
alone and suddenly sick with dread, steadies himself with one hand on the
back of a chair.

"I'll be right there, Daisy." Mr. Brown says soothingly into the radio as
he sprints down the hallway. "Be as still as you can. If you move, you
might really hurt yourself."

"What's wrong with my legs?" The voice in the radio is thin and shrill, on
the edge of panic.

"We'll figure it out in a minute. Stay perfectly still." Mr. Brown lets
off the transmitter key. "Dwight probably whacked her tailbone with that
damn paddle of his and tweaked a nerve or something. Norma Lynn, you better
go call an ambulance."

"Sure." The secretary spins around in her tracks and heads back toward the
lobby. "Janice is on duty in the infirmary tonight, I'll fill her in."
"Give Ruthie a ring for me, too," Mr. Brown says over his shoulder. "Tell
her to have supper with the kids, I'll be held up for a while."

Norma Lynn jogs into the lobby, panting, just in time to catch a glimpse of
the principal as he ducks out the door. She watches, stunned, while he
scurries through the driving rain toward the empty parking lot. By the time
the secretary makes it to the phone on her desk and dials up the operator,
Mr. Landon has climbed into his shiny silver Volvo and fired up the engine.
Norma Lynn sees a flash of headlights, and in the next instant, the car
disappears into the night.

Mr. Brown skids to a stop outside the heavy metal door at the far end of the
building. He makes himself take a couple of slow, even breaths as he
unlocks the door and swings it open. The two security guards rush into the
cell where Daisy is lying. Her face is white with terror, and her legs are
twisted at a funny angle on the cot.

"Jesus, look at her thighs!" Abel Perez blurts out. "The principal put
those bruises on her?"

Mr. Brown nods grimly. The other security guard mutters something in
Spanish, plainly a swearword. Then he steps out of the cell to chase off
the growing cluster of girls in the hall.

"We saw you and Mr. Brown running past the cafeteria." One of the onlookers
inches forward, trying to peek around the doorjamb. "Is Daisy in there?
She wasn't at supper."

"It isn't your business," the guard snaps. "Go on now, all of you."

"Aw, spill it, Mr. Perez," the curious girl wheedles. "What's the deal?"

"The deal is, I write up anyone who hasn't made it to the day room in the
next thirty seconds." The guard takes a pen and pad from his shirt pocket
and glances at his watch, scattering the busybodies like a flock of startled
chickens.

In the cell, Mr. Brown sits down on the edge of the bed and offers Daisy his
hand. "The ambulance is on its way. The paramedics will fix you up in no
time."

"Am I crippled or something?" Daisy adjusts her skimpy nightgown so that it
covers up her cotton briefs. "Could my legs have gone bad on me, just like
that, while I was asleep?"

"It isn't likely, sweetheart." Mr. Brown does his best to shove the nagging
fear out of his own mind. "Lie still till the ambulance comes, you'll be
fine."

Norma Lynn appears a few moments later, followed by two paramedics. One of
the men is pushing a gurney, the other has a bag of emergency supplies slung
over his shoulder.

"Where's Dwight?" Mr. Brown looks quizzically at the secretary. "Didn't you
meet up with him when you went to use the phone?"

"No, he took off." Norma Lynn, obviously upset, tugs at a button on her
purple dress. "I saw him sneak out to his car and speed away."

"The sheriff already sent men out after him." One of the paramedics wraps a
blood pressure cuff around Daisy's arm. "They'll nab him before he makes
the county line."

The other paramedic unbolts the platform from the gurney frame. Mr. Brown
gets up from the bed and tries to move aside.

"No!" Daisy grips his hand so hard that her knuckles whiten. "What are
they gonna do?"

"Take you to the hospital, get you checked out." Mr. Brown kisses Daisy
quickly on the forehead and gently pries himself out of her clutches. "I
won't leave you, I promise."

The two paramedics ease Daisy onto the back board, lift it carefully, and
set it on the undercarriage of the stretcher. One of them tightens the
bolts that secure the board to the frame, and the other binds down Daisy's
legs with a wide nylon strap.

"Hey, skip the bondage!" Daisy stiffens and pulls away as the paramedic
pins her arms against her torso and starts to buckle a second strap into
place. "Mr. Brown, don't let them truss me up!"

"Freeze, now!" Mr. Brown raps out, using his strongest security guard voice.
He bends down and looks Daisy dead in the eyes. "These men are going to
help you. They don't want you to move in case your back is hurt. Got it?"

"Okay," Daisy whispers. "Keep an eye on them, though, at least till they
undo the belts."

"I'm off the clock. I'll ride in the ambulance with you." Mr. Brown turns
to the secretary. "You'll fill out the reports for the school records,
right? I know you quit your job and all, but--"

"You won't get stuck with the paperwork." Norma Lynn smiles. "I better
stick around and hold things together now that Dwight is on the dodge."

One of the paramedics pushes the stretcher out of the cell. His partner
walks ahead of the bed to keep the way clear, and Mr. Brown strides along
beside Daisy, grasping her once again by the hand.

There is a short dash through the rainy darkness, then a swift and soggy
trip to the hospital under a set of flashing lights. Daisy is dazzled by
the flurry of activity in the trauma center. She feels like a rag doll as
she is passed from person to person. Lots of strange hands poke and prod, a
sea of white coats swirls around her. Solemn figures skitter to and fro
like swarming ants, speaking to Mr. Brown in hushed tones and then darting
away. People slide Daisy onto a cold metal table and take pictures of her
back and hips. She seems to be hopelessly trapped in a nightmare, time has
lost all meaning.

Finally she is placed in a real bed with soft, clean sheets on it. She
can't ever remember feeling so drained. She closes her eyes and lets her
muscles relax.

Mr. Brown sits down in a chair next to the bed and takes her hand. "Daisy,
we need to talk a little."

Daisy turns her head on the pillow so she can look at the security guard.
"Yeah? What about?"

"About your legs, honey."

"What's wrong with them?" The girl is suddenly wide awake and tense with
fear. "Oh my God, is it real bad?"

"Well, we don't know yet. "The principal must have hit your tailbone pretty
hard with his paddle. There's a lot of inflammation around the base of your
spinal cord. We'll have to wait till the swelling goes down to find out if
your nerves are permanently damaged."

"You mean forever?" Daisy shudders. "No way, that can't happen to me!"

"More than likely it hasn't happened, and you'll get better soon if you keep
still and quiet. The doctors want to give you a Cortizone shot to back down
the swelling."

"A shot? I hate needles!"

"Who doesn't?" Mr. Brown tries to smile. "I won't lie to you. The shot
will hurt like the devil, but it'll be worth it if the pressure on your
spinal cord eases up."

"Well, bring it on." Daisy grits her teeth and clenches the edge of the
cotton bedspread between her fingers. "The sooner the better, before I
chicken out."

"Would you like me to track down your mother? The shot can wait till she
gets here."

"No! I hate her!" Daisy starts to sit up in the bed. "The bitch gave me
away, remember?"

"Easy does it." Mr. Brown presses the girl gently back onto the mattress.
"She has no claim on you, so I won't call her if you don't want to see her."

"She isn't my mother any more!" Daisy has no chance to fight the tears that
suddenly spill out of her eyes. "I'm all by myself!"

"I know you feel lonely, sweetheart, but you aren't alone. I promised you I
wouldn't leave you, and I haven't."

"Maybe not, but you have a bed to go home to and a family who misses you!"
Daisy sobs. "Nobody gives a damn about me!"

"Let's take things one step at a time." Mr. Brown reaches for the box of
tissues on the bedside table. "We'll get the Cortizone shot over with
first. After that, we can talk about what will happen next."

"There's nothing to talk about." Daisy wipes her eyes and blows her nose.
"I've been on my own plenty of times, I'll be all right."

Before Mr. Brown can answer, a chubby woman in a starched white uniform
bustles into the room, followed by a burly orderly.

"This will only take a moment, Daisy," The nurse says briskly. She flips
the bedspread and sheet out of her way and rolls the girl gingerly onto one
side.

"Fine, but does he need to watch?" Daisy asks, shooting a dirty look at the
orderly.

"He'll have to restrain you while I deliver the injection." The nurse tugs
Daisy's underpants down to the tops of her thighs. "Dear me, you really are
black and blue."

The orderly bends Daisy at the waist and tucks her knees up against her
chest. Then he moves behind her and wraps his arms around her, pinning her
knees to her body.
The nurse pours some peroxide onto a cotton swab and dabs at a spot just
above the cleft of Daisy's bottom. Daisy quivers as she feels the coolness
of the antiseptic on her skin. Mr. Brown takes both of her hands in his and
keeps his gaze steadily on her face.

"Okay, look right into my eyes," he says. "There, that's good. It'll be
over quick."

In the next instant, pain slams into Daisy like a balled fist. Her upper
body jerks reflexively in the merciless grip of the orderly, and her bare
feet scrabble and flutter in the air. The nurse pumps the syringe, and
liquid fire spreads through the muscles in Daisy's buttocks and down into
her thighs. She lets out a wail that goes up an octave as the pain reaches
a climax, then slides back down the scale.

"All done now," the nurse says. "You may be a bit sore for a while."

"Do you lie that way to all of your patients?" Mr. Brown raises his
eyebrows. "The poor girl looks like she just took a spin in the electric
chair."

The orderly lets go of Daisy and helps her straighten her trembling legs out
on the bed. The girl breathes in short, sharp gasps. She blinks her eyes
rapidly, trying to clear away the dancing stars in her vision.

When the nurse and the orderly leave the room, Mr. Brown sits in the chair
beside the bed again. He waits patiently for Daisy to pull herself
together.

"Man, that hurt like hell!" she finally says, still sniffling a little.

"I know, I saw your face." Mr. Brown has a tough time speaking around the
lump in his throat. "I held your hands and watched the pain fill up your
eyes, and it was one of the hardest things I ever had to do."

"Don't lose any sleep over it." Daisy grins weakly, then turns thoughtful.
"If the shot works and my legs get better, what will happen to me? Where
will I go when the doctors cut me loose?"

"You were assigned a social worker when your mother terminated her parental
rights and made you a ward of the state. The social worker will find a
foster home for you."

"I won't stay in a foster home, damn it, I'll run away!" Daisy snarls. "I
don't want to live with strangers!"

"Who said anything about strangers?" Mr. Brown asks calmly. "My wife and I
signed up to be foster parents a few months ago. Up till now, we haven't
come across the right child to take in."

"And you think I'd be the right child? You don't know me very well, do
you?"

"Maybe not, but I like what I've seen so far." Mr. Brown puts a hand on
Daisy's shoulder. "I haven't talked to my wife yet, but we usually see eye
to eye on things. You need a good home, and our daughter is growing up
fast. She's twelve years old, and she needs a big sister."

"But I'm a waste of time and a rotten apple," Daisy says bitterly. "You
ought to pick out a nice sister for your daughter, not somebody like me."

"Honey, I've seen a lot of apples in my time. I know how to spot the rotten
ones." Mr. Brown reaches out and turns Daisy's face toward him. "Mr.
Landon said you were a rotten apple. I say Mr. Landon is a jackass. Who do
you believe?"

Daisy smiles. "You really think Mr. Landon is a jackass?"

"He is. And you aren't a rotten apple. Get that notion out of your head,
okay? I don't want to hear another word about it."

"I could have lots of fun with a little sister." Daisy feels her eyelids
starting to droop. "What's her name?"

"Her name is Penny. She's got a mop of copper-colored hair, just like mine,
that she hardly bothers to run a comb through." Mr. Brown laughs. "All
that girl cares about is horses. We bought a half-wild pinto pony for her
last spring, and she's so busy trying to gentle him that she barely takes
time to eat."

"When do I get to go home with you?" Daisy squeezes her eyes shut tight,
not daring to look at Mr. Brown in case the whole conversation with him
turns out to be nothing but a dream.

"I'll stop by the courthouse in Hunterville and speak with Judge Ramsey
first thing in the morning. He's the one who sent you to reform school,
isn't he?"

"Yeah. He can't stand me, though. I've been hauled up in front of him way
too often."

"He and I went to high school together. I'll see if I can talk him into
making me your legal guardian." Mr. Brown gets a stern edge in his voice.
"You need to know, though, that if you live under my roof, you play by my
rules. That means you won't do anything that gets you dragged into juvenile
court again. Do you understand that?"

"Yeah, fair enough." Daisy wiggles nervously between her sheets. Then, all
at once, she bounces up on the mattress. "My legs are better! Mr. Brown,
the weird feeling is going away!"

"Thank God! Oh, thank God!" Mr. Brown lets out a sigh of relief. "Don't
squirm around too much. Sit tight till the doctor comes back to check you
over."

Daisy burrows down under her covers, somehow feeling safe and loved.

Mr. Brown leans down to kiss her on the cheek. "Good night, honey. I've
got to get home to Ruthie and the kids."

"Will you come back tomorrow?"

"As soon as I drop in on Judge Ramsey," Mr. Brown promises. "You and I
still need to check out the stars with my telescope, you know. We just
might get to look at the sky from my front porch--you and me and your new
sister."

"My new sister," Daisy murmurs, letting the words linger on her tongue. "Do
you think she'll like me?"

"Count on it." Mr. Brown walks out of the hospital room and closes the door
quietly behind him.

As he climbs into his old green pickup truck to head home, the security
guard wonders if he has bitten off more than he can chew. Daisy is a little
spitfire, after all, and she hasn't grown up with the kind of firm, loving
discipline his own daughter is used to. With a mentally challenged son in
the house besides, maybe his wife won't be thrilled about taking on a
troubled teenager.

"Well, Ruthie and I always manage," He says aloud as he waits for the truck
to warm up. "The poor girl needs a home, that's all there is to it."

Mr. Brown stops for gas on his way out of town. He has no idea that at the
same moment, underneath another Texaco star on a stretch of rain-soaked
highway, Dwight Landon has paused in his headlong flight to California. The
ex-principal, full of the fear that is common to all hunted men, fuels up
his silver Volvo, buys a steaming cup of coffee and a packet of beef jerky,
and gets back on the open road. He vows to be halfway across New Mexico by
sunup.

Daisy Lane, 11-2000