All That's Missing Read Online Free PDF Page B

Then she pulled the curtain shut before adding, “I’ll be just outside if you need me.”
    Arlo pulled a chair closer to Poppo’s bed. “Hey, Poppo,” he said. “It’s me. Arlo.”
    Poppo lay there with his eyes closed and his chest moving up and down. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t groan or blink or even move his hands. Arlo wasn’t sure how long he talked. Five minutes? Fifteen? He was all mixed up about time. All too soon, the nurse reappeared.
    â€œI’m afraid you’ll have to go out to the lounge now,” she said. “The phlebotomist is coming to take a blood sample. And then they’re taking your grandfather downstairs for some tests.”
    The nurse guided Arlo through the ICU and outside to a bright room with sofas and chairs and a television mounted on the wall. It took a few moments for Arlo’s eyes to adjust to the light.
    â€œThe doctor and social worker will be here to talk to you in a minute,” the nurse said. “Would you like a pillow?”
    â€œSocial worker?” Arlo’s heart jumped.
    â€œYou’re here by yourself, aren’t you?”
    â€œI’m with my grandfather,” Arlo said.
    The nurse gave him a tight smile. “Let me get that pillow for you,” she said.
    She disappeared down the hallway for a few minutes. When she came back, there was a man with her.
    â€œSunil,” she said as she led the man toward the sofa where Arlo was sitting. “Over here. This is Arlo.”
    The man smiled. “Nice to meet you, Arlo,” he said.
    â€œMr. Verma is the social worker,” the nurse said. “I’ll leave you with him.”
    Every hair on Arlo’s neck stood on end. First the police. Then the hospital. Now a social worker. Forget the mud-and-stick dam. He was drowning.
    â€œHow are you doing?” Mr. Verma asked.
    â€œI’m fine,” Arlo said.
    â€œThat’s good. I’m sorry about your grandfather. How’s he doing?”
    â€œHe’s asleep right now,” Arlo said.
    Mr. Verma nodded. “The nurses will take good care of him. You don’t need to worry. And Miss Hasslebarger will be along in a minute.”
    â€œIs she the doctor?”
    â€œNo, Arlo. She’s with Child Protective Services.”
    â€œI don’t need protection,” Arlo said.
    Mr. Verma laughed. “Of course you don’t. She’s with DHHS.”
    Arlo swallowed. “What’s that?”
    â€œDepartment of Health and Human Services,” Mr. Verma said. “They have procedures to deal with situations like yours.”
    Procedures
and
situations
were the kind of words Mrs. Gretzky used when she talked about Arlo’s failing grades in math and what they needed to do about them.
    Mr. Verma took Arlo downstairs and bought him two packages of peanut-butter crackers and a bottle of orange juice from the machines. Then he brought him back up to the lounge.
    â€œI’m sorry we can’t make you more comfortable,” he said.
    â€œI’m fine,” Arlo said.
“Really.”
    Actually, he would feel even better if Mr. Verma would leave him alone. But the social worker stayed and watched television until a red-haired man wearing green scrubs appeared about a half hour later.

“Nice to meet you, Arlo.” The man wearing green scrubs extended a hand for Arlo to shake. “I’m Dr. Kessel, the resident taking care of your grandfather. Do you mind if we talk?”
    â€œSure,” Arlo said. “I mean, no, I don’t mind.”
    â€œExcellent.”
    Arlo’s stomach rolled as Dr. Kessel leaned back against the sofa and flipped through a file.
    â€œIt says here neither one of your parents is living.” Dr. Kessel lifted his glasses and stared at Arlo. “Is that true?”
    Arlo nodded. “It’s just Poppo and me,” he said.
    â€œI’m sorry.” Dr. Kessel looked as if