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M
EGAN
C
HARNELL WHIPPED
her red convertible into the only empty parking space in the crowded parking garage at Washington Memorial Hospital. She screeched to a halt, grabbed her purse and notebook, and ran inside the glass doors. When she reached the elevator, she impatiently punched the button.

“Late, late, late,” she muttered. Her first day on the job, and she was missing orientation. Her father wouldn’t be pleased. She’d hit an unexpected traffic snarl. Usually, it didn’t take this much time to come from her Virginia suburb to downtown Washington. If her car had wings she would have made it in plenty of time.

Meg pounded the elevator button until the door slid open. She barreled inside and hit the button
for the fourth floor. It was her father’s idea, not hers. She didn’t want to become a candy striper for the summer. “Your therapist thinks getting involved will help you come to terms with what happened to Cindy. Maybe a job will be helpful,” her father had insisted. Meg knew that her last choice would have been to work at the hospital, but here she was anyway. Part of her wanted to move on and connect to people, and yet she still grieved for her lost friend.

Meg had been overcome with grief at the news that her best friend had been killed in a car accident. She’d seen Cindy only weeks before the fatal crash. After Cindy and her family had moved away, Meg had been afraid their best friendship might end. But Cindy had promised, and so had Meg—“forever friends”—and they’d managed to stay as close as ever, even though they were no longer neighbors.

When Cindy’s parents called Meg, she couldn’t accept the reality of Cindy’s death. Now, a year later, the therapist Meg had talked with felt she was ready to face new relationships with trust and courage.
Easy for everyone to say
, Meg thought, but she was nervous.

On the fourth floor, Meg raced out of the elevator and into the auditorium, grimacing as the door banged open. She was sure every person in the room looked up at her, including her father. He was standing on the stage, giving his opening remarks. Meg slunk into an empty seat in the shadowed depths and heaved a sigh. She mopped
sweat from her forehead and wished with all her heart that she could be anyplace but here.

“As I was saying,” Dr. Charnell continued, “volunteers like you, along with our faithful Pink Ladies, are a vital link to the welfare of our patients here at Memorial. The nurses are already overloaded with duties, so volunteers are necessary to enhance patient comfort. Without your helping hands and smiling faces, this place would be dreary indeed.

“For those who participated in our Saturday training program, you already know Mrs. Stanton, our volunteer coordinator.” A woman with dark hair in a French knot waved from her chair beside the podium. “She’ll have a few words to say, then she’ll pass out floor assignments.”

Others from the hospital staff spoke. When, at last, Mrs. Stanton wrapped up the orientation with an invitation for refreshments, Meg halfheartedly walked to a table piled with doughnuts and juice. Because she’d missed breakfast, she loaded a paper plate, then went to check for her name on the assignment sheet posted on the auditorium bulletin board.

“Hi. I remember you from the training sessions,” said a tall, slim girl who was standing beside Meg. “I’m assigned to pediatrics. How about you?”

Meg found her name on the list. “Looks like I am too.”

“I’m Alana Humphries.” The girl smiled and
Meg felt she could like this person who seemed so friendly.

Meg smiled back. “Megan Charnell—but I prefer just plain Meg.” She wiped powder-sugared fingers on her wrinkled pink-and-white pinafore, the uniform of the candy striper. “These stripes make me look like an overripe candy cane,” Meg complained.

Alana laughed. “Charnell … Are you related to Dr. Charnell?”

Meg reddened. “My father.” She hated people’s knowing. She was certain they would think she was going to be given special favor, when in reality she loathed the whole idea.

Alana’s eyes grew wide. “I think Dr. Charnell is the most wonderful man in the world.”

“You do?”

“He helped save my brother’s life.”

“He did?”

“My brother, Lonnie, had a disease that was destroying his kidneys. He was on dialysis for years. Your father put Lonnie in Memorial’s transplant program, and two years ago, Lonnie got a donor kidney. He’s twenty now and doing fine. I guess my brother was really lucky. He got a transplant right away, which according to your dad, is highly unusual for African-Americans. It seems that organs are most compatible when the donor and recipient are of the same race, but not enough black people are signing up to be donors. That’s really hurting black people who need organs.” Meg had never really thought about such things.

Her dad was an accomplished surgeon who had taken over as head of the organ transplant unit at Memorial five years before. Meg couldn’t count the times she’d heard the phone ring in the middle of the night for him. Neither could she recall one single holiday, one special family occasion that hadn’t been interrupted by a call from the hospital because Dr. Franklin Charnell was needed to handle some emergency. For years, she believed that the hospital was his true home, and that his patients were his preferred family.

“I’m glad for your brother,” Meg replied.

“That’s why I signed up to be a candy striper,” Alana explained. “To give something back. I mean, money couldn’t buy Lonnie’s life, so there’s nothing I could give even if I was rich, which I’m not. The least I can do is volunteer to help out, try and make things easier for people who are sick like Lonnie used to be.” She paused. “Did you sign up to work with your father?”

Meg couldn’t admit the truth—she’d been made to sign up to help her pull out of a progressive depression. “Dad suggested it,” she said, “and it sounded like an okay idea for the summer.”

“Well, I think it’s going to be fun work. And it’s really cool to know I’ll be working with you. I mean, Dr. Charnell’s daughter …”

Meg squirmed under Alana’s generous smile. How long before Alana discovered she was a fraud?

Her father came over, and Meg hoped he wouldn’t mention her tardy entrance. “Hello,
Alana,” he said. “Lonnie told me you’d be here. I see you’ve met Megan.”

“We were just discussing our assignments.”

Meg nodded vigorously. “Pediatrics.”

“I know. I asked Mrs. Stanton to put you there.”

A warning bell sounded in Meg’s head.

“Super,” Alana said. “I really like kids.”

“The floor’s divided into units,” Dr. Charnell explained. “One for kids under twelve, one for older kids. Both sections need extra hands.”

“We’ll do our best,” Alana promised.

Meg only nodded.

“My office is in the same general area.” His motives became clear to Meg. He wanted to keep an eye on her, and she resented it. All at once, his beeper went off. “That’s me,” he said. “I’ve got to run.”

Meg watched him hurry toward a house phone.

“He’s so busy,” Alana said.

“You’ve got that right,” Meg replied, without elaborating. She and Alana headed toward the elevator that would take them to pediatrics.

“I’d like to be a doctor someday,” Alana told her as they rode up to the seventh floor. “How about you?”

“No way.”

“You’re kidding? I thought medicine would be in your blood.”

“I prefer doughnuts in my blood.”

Alana giggled. “Honestly, girl, you’re such a comedian.”

They emerged onto the pediatric floor. A huge
painted picture of a clown holding a sign that said “Kids World” adorned the wall. Meg paused to study the cute artwork.

“Get out of the way. You’re in the middle of the drag strip!” a boy’s voice called.

Meg flattened herself against the wall, turning in time to see a teenage boy pushing an IV stand with lines attached to the inside of his arm. He loped beside a very young boy who was rolling his wheelchair as hard as he could down the length of the hall.

Astounded, Meg watched them fly past with a clatter of metal and a cascade of laughter.
What have I gotten myself into
? she wondered.
What does Dad think he’s doing
?