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back.”
    â€œWhat are you mad at me for? He kicked them off!”
    â€œTake David into the waiting room and get him quiet,” Tammy told me, “and don’t let him run around in his bare feet. The floor is wet and cold and I don’t want him getting sick, although you’ve probably already given him your cold.”
    I did as I was told. At least, I took David into the waiting room. I couldn’t make him quiet, though, and between him and his brother, the screaming sounded like it was on stereo speakers. The other people in the waiting room were not pleased with us. On top of everything else, David’s diaper needed changing.
    There were two empty seats next to each other. I sat down in one and put David in the other, but he wouldn’t stay in it. He kept sliding to the floor and kneeling into his rocking and head-banging position. Tammy was right — the floor was wet. There was an old man near us who smelled even worse than David did. He had wet himself, too. I couldn’t tell if the floor was wet from the rain or from him.
    I was angry and tired, my nose was stuffed up, and I was chilled from my cold and my wet jacket. My arms were sore from carrying David, I was tired of his screams, and my scalp hurt where hehad pulled on my hair. Because I felt so lousy, I was rough with him, pulling him back into his chair when he slid out of it, and telling him to shut up. My impatience only made him worse. The boys can understand other people’s emotions even if they can’t understand words. To get David quiet, I’d have to be calm and friendly. I didn’t feel calm and friendly.
    Tammy didn’t make anything better when she and Daniel joined us in the waiting room. She had been given a towel to hold to his head, but he was still screaming.
    â€œHe got blood on my blanket,” I said.
    â€œIt will wash out,” Mom said.
    â€œBlood doesn’t wash out.”
    â€œHe couldn’t help it.”
    â€œBut it’s my blanket! Why didn’t you wrap him in one of your blankets? Why did you have to use my blanket?” I knew I was acting like a jerk, but I didn’t feel like acting like anything else.
    In other circumstances, this would have been an adventure, being out in the middle of the night. There were lots of strange-looking people in the waiting room. I could have imagined that their wounds had come from exciting battles, and their sicknesses were rare, tropical diseases they’d gotten while searching for lost treasure. But you have to be in a good mood to imagine things.

CHAPTER EIGHT
FIGHT
    The night had turned into day by the time we got home.
    â€œCan’t we take a taxi?” I pleaded.
    â€œThere’s no money for a taxi,” Tammy replied, “and there’s no money for a streetcar, either, so don’t bother to ask.”
    We walked back.
    David would have walked, but since he was in his bare feet, I had to carry him. Tammy carried Daniel, whose hair had been partly shaved off to make room for a big white bandage. He’d been given stitches. Mom had to be there with him while they did it, to help the doctors hold him down. She said they had frozen the area around the cut, so he didn’t feel any pain, but he screamed and fought them anyway.
    Both boys hate having their hair washed or cut. Daniel would have really hated having all thosepeople around him, doing things to his face.
    Daniel was asleep in Tammy’s arms, which made him a lot easier to carry than David. David wanted to walk, so he squirmed and fought me all the way home. I wanted to ask Tammy if we could trade boys, but she looked angry at me still, so I didn’t ask.
    David’s boots were still in the hallway, and I kicked them into the apartment ahead of me. I was glad to put him down, and I think he was glad to get away from me, too. I crawled up to my bunk, remembering too late that Tammy had my blanket, and it was covered with blood.
    Mom