Night World 1 Read Online Free PDF Page B

wall and stared at the splashing water of the fountain.
    He was out of options. Out of hope. The laws of the Night World said so.
    If Poppy had the disease, she would die from it.

CHAPTER 4
    P oppy was staring without appetite at a dinner tray of chicken nuggets and trench fries when Dr. Franklin came in the room.
    The tests were over. The CAT scan had been all right, if claustrophobic, but the ERCP had been awful. Poppy could still feel the ghost of the tube in her throat every time she swallowed.
    â€œYou’re leaving all this great hospital food,” Dr. Franklin said with gentle humor. Poppy managed a smile for him.
    He went on talking about innocuous things. He didn’t say anything about the test results, and Poppy had no idea when they were supposed to come in. She was suspicious of Dr. Franklin, though. Something about him, the gentle way he patted her foot under the blanket or the shadows around his eyes…
    When he casually suggested that Poppy’s mother might want to “come for a little walk down the hall,” Poppy’s suspicion crystallized.
    He’s going to tell her. He’s got the results, but he doesn’t want me to know.
    Her plan was made in the same instant. She yawned and said, “Go on, Mom; I’m a little bit sleepy.” Then she lay back and shut her eyes.
    As soon as they were gone, she got off the bed. She watched their retreating backs as they went down the hall into another doorway. Then, in her stocking feet, she quietly followed them.
    She was delayed for several minutes at the nursing station. “Just stretching my legs,” she said to a nurse who looked inquiringly at her, and she pretended to be walking at random. When the nurse picked up a clipboard and went into one of the patients’ rooms, Poppy hurried on down the corridor.
    The room at the end was the waiting room—she’d seen it earlier. It had a TV and a complete kitchen setup so relatives could hang out in comfort. The door was ajar and Poppy approached it stealthily. She could hear the low rumble of Dr. Franklin’s voice, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying.
    Very cautiously Poppy edged closer. She chanced one look around the door.
    She saw at once that there was no need for caution. Everyone in that room was completely occupied.
    Dr. Franklin was sitting on one of the couches. Beside him was an African-American woman with glasses on a chain around her neck. She was wearing the white coat of a doctor.
    On the other couch was Poppy’s stepfather, Cliff. His normally perfect dark hair was slightly mussed, his rock-steady jaw was working. He had his arm around her mother. Dr. Franklin was talking to both of them, his hand on her mother’s shoulder.
    And Poppy’s mother was sobbing.
    Poppy pulled back from the doorway.
    Oh, my God. I’ve got it.
    She’d never seen her mother cry before. Not when Poppy’s grandmother had died, not during the divorce from Poppy’s father. Her mother’s specialty was coping with things; she was the best coper Poppy had ever known.
    But now…
    I’ve got it. I’ve definitely got it.
    Still, maybe it wasn’t so bad. Her mom was shocked, okay, that was natural. But it didn’t mean that Poppy was going to die or anything. Poppy had all of modern medicine on her side.
    She kept telling herself this as she edged away from the waiting room.
    She didn’t edge fast enough, though. Before she got out of earshot, she heard her mother’s voice, raised in something like anguish.
    â€œMy baby. Oh, my little girl.”
    Poppy froze.
    And then Cliff, loud and angry: “You’re trying to tell me there’s nothing ?”
    Poppy couldn’t feel her own breathing. Against her will, she moved back to the door.
    â€œDr. Loftus is an oncologist; an expert on this sort of cancer. She can explain better than I can,” Dr. Franklin was saying.
    Then a new voice came—the other