Read God is in the Pancakes for Free Online

lesson learned one afternoon when Mr. Sands convinced me to help him escape.
    â€œGrace,” he said, “I need you to help me bust out of this joint.”
    The path to freedom was fairly straightforward: I was to roll his wheelchair down the hallway, out the little-used and little-observed side entrance closest to the constant care wing, then push him as fast as my legs could carry us in the direction of the local cineplex, which was showing one of his favorite classic films, Top Gun.
    Aside from a few minor bumps (uneven sidewalks and a disagreement about whether to get extra butter on the popcorn or not), the plan itself was flawless. Less flawless was our plan to break back in.
    As I wheeled Mr. Sands back to his room a little over two and a half hours later, Victoria, a large nurse originally from Trinidad, was waiting inside, her arms crossed in front of her, her eyebrows raised in an expression that spelled trouble.
    â€œVictoria,” said Mr. Sands, honey dripping from his voice, “aren’t you looking lovely today!”
    â€œDon’t give me none of that, Mr. Frank. Where ’ave you been? I’ve been outta my mind with worry!”
    â€œGrace and I have been in the chapel. Praying,” he answered. And I was praying. Praying he wouldn’t look at me at that moment because I could feel the laughter rising in me.
    â€œThe chapel?” Victoria said, shaking her head. “Now you know I’m a religious woman. So I’m asking you, Mr. Frank, are you lyin’ ta me?”
    â€œWould I lie to you about something like that, Victoria?”
    â€œYes, ya would.”
    Mr. Sands chuckled. “Yes, you’re right, I would! Well, you caught me. I broke the rules and I should suffer the consequences. I deserve to be thrown out of here. Honeybunch, just help me pack my bags and we’ll go,” he said, giving me a wink.
    Not even the angry Victoria could prevent herself from smiling at this. Of course later I was given a fairly harsh talking to by the candy striper coordinator, and told that if I ever did something that was so “grossly negligent and dangerous” again, I’d be fired on the spot . . . Still worth it.

    I text Eric as I leave Hanover House later that afternoon and tell him to buzz me when he’s finished practice, hoping we can meet up at Milk Bar. I could really use his company right now. I need the distraction and I know he’ll make me feel calmer. Plus, time flies when we’re together, and I’m more than ready for this day to be over.
    My phone doesn’t ring until 9:14 p.m., by which time I’ve finally settled in front of the TV to do homework. Lolly’s sitting next to me and when I answer it, she shoots me an annoyed look that implies she’ll never be able to concentrate on the TV show with me yammering in the background. I get off the couch and wander into the kitchen.
    â€œHey, how was practice?” I ask.
    â€œIntense,” Eric replies. “It was like boot camp. I think the coach wanted to see who’d drop first.”
    â€œHow’d you do?”
    â€œI dropped third,” he says almost proudly. “Then Mike and I went out with a few of his friends for dinner.”
    â€œOh yeah? Who with?” I open the fridge in search of something crunchy.
    â€œSam, Taylor, and the Roy twins.”
    The Roys, Chelsea and Cara, are identical twins who seem to be everywhere at once. They annoy me separately and as a unit. “Was it fun?” I ask, as if setting up a joke for him.
    â€œYeah, I had a good time,” Eric replies. “And it turns out Chelsea Roy is really cool.”
    â€œShe is?”
    â€œVery cool, and pretty cute too.”
    This sounds suspiciously like enthusiasm. I shut the refrigerator door empty-handed. “You mean cuter than her identical twin?”
    â€œYou know, they don’t actually look that much alike once you get to know them.”