Chapter 12: Night Shift

On Wednesday evening I went to the Pavilion to clear out my locker.

I was suspended, and I knew I could not work.

I only wanted my shoes and my good stethoscope, and I wanted to do it without crying in the hall.

I badged in at the staff door, and the reader blinked green.

Nobody had thought to cancel that either.

The night staff were already in the break room, all eleven of them, standing in a half circle around the long table.

The nurse manager stood at the head with her arms crossed.

"There she is," the manager said.

"I'm only here for my locker."

"You're here for this."

She pushed a sheet of paper across the table.

It was a letter, one page, typed.

We, the nurses of the Pavilion night shift, will not cover Della Heyward's position until her suspension is lifted.

Under it were eleven signatures, some of them slanted and hurried.

"The CEO will send agency nurses," I said.

"Let him. They don't know where we keep anything."

"You could lose your jobs."

"We could," said the night charge nurse.

She had held my hand through the worst night of Junie's stay and never mentioned it again.

"But I'd rather be fired by him than ashamed in front of you."

"That's not a trade anyone should make."

"It makes sense on nights," she said.

I laughed, and then I had to turn around and look at the wall until I was done.

At nine the elevator opened at the end of the hall.

Camille came out of it in the gray sweater, carrying a covered tray of cookies.

Her volunteer badge was pinned to her chest.

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