At the bottom of the mountain, he found the first-aid station and waited outside. He did not have to wait long. They brought Martha out on a stretcher, and loaded her into an ambulance. The legend on the ambulance read BENSON CITY HOSPITAL. He went to his car. He had just enough time to pick up his three animals, and get to Benson City, twenty miles away.

The kids followed the ambulance in the van, and once they got to the hospital, four of them went inside with Martha. Chicken did not go in, he stayed in the van. No one told him to stay there. No one needed to. He knew that he was not wanted inside. Only Lila had spoken to him during the drive from the mountain. His peers from the Center, his brother and sisters, had ignored him. They had not even bothered to ask how he felt. Clearly, he had come out of the collision unhurt, and Martha's leg was broken. The words were unspoken in the van as they drove, but the words were there, just the same. Chicken had done it again, and if anyone rated a broken bone it was the master screw-up himself.

Now he sat alone in the van, cold and shaken. He could have turned the motor on, and the heater, but he didn't. He punished himself with the cold. This was, he knew, the ultimate failure. His adventures of the past had always been met with a shake of the head and a sigh of exasperation. He knew those sighs well. He had heard them often enough during the past year from both his peers and his mentors. But there would be no sighs this time. He had jeopardized the mission, and he had put the most popular ace in the Center out of action. They were finished with him, he knew it, and he knew what would be waiting for him back at the Center. With his abilities fading, and now this-they'd make him a deuce, for sure. Alone, cold, and miserable, he bent over until his face was close to his knees, shaking his head.

Why? he asked himself. Why do I do it?

The question was rhetorical. He knew the answer, and the answer wasn't good enough. He shook himself against the chill, and went inside.

The other kids were sprawled on chairs around the hospital waiting room while Martha was in the emergency section. The waiting room had been designed with cheer in mind. There were cheerful colors, cheerful chairs, and cheerful drawings by children on the walls. There was a tank full of cheerful fish who bubbled and stared, magazines filled with cheerful stories, and cheerful giant snowflakes glued to every window. It was the most depressing place that Lila had ever seen.

She had more than one reason to feel depressed. She was worried about Martha, and her dream trip had begun to turn sour, but what bothered her just as much was the way that the other kids were treating Chicken. Sure, he had done something stupid. It was irresponsible and inexcusable to bomb the hill that way, but that was no reason to treat him like a leper. She had sensed the atmosphere in the van on the way to the hospital, and she had seen the look on Chicken's face. It was the same, sad, puppy-dog look that first had drawn her to him, and just as she had with that dog long ago, she had wanted to put her arms around him, hug him, and tell him that he was forgiven. If she had been alone with him, she might have done just that. That dog, she remembered unhappily, had never learned not to pee on the rug.

She looked up when Chicken came into the room. The others saw him, but they turned their heads away. Chicken's eyes moved across the room, and he chose a seat away from them. He slumped in the chair, and stared at his knees. That face, thought Lila. All he needs is a button nose and a pair of floppy ears. She stood up, walked across the room, and sat down next to him. She put her hand over his. He turned to her, confusion on his face.

"You look like you need a friend," she said.

He nodded.

"Well, you've got one."

He nodded again, and they sat silently that way, his hand under hers.

Do you see what's going on there? Pam spoke head-to-head with the others. Our favorite screwball just got himself adopted.

How could she? asked Linda. After what he did.

She doesn't know that he had his eyes closed.

For that matter, how do we know? Just because George says so?

He did, said George. I'm sure of it.

How could you tell? His goggles were down.

I tapped him just before he hit Martha. I was in his head, damn it, and his eyes were closed.

The head talk stopped when the doctor came into the room. He was a short, dark man in greens, and he needed a shave. George jumped to his feet. "How is she?"

"It was a clean break and a good set," said the doctor. "No problems."

"Are you sure?"

The doctor yawned. "Do you have any idea how many legs I do every winter? Stop worrying, your friend is okay. She's resting now, I have her sedated."

"How long will she have to stay here?"

"I want her here overnight. If things look good in the morning, I'll put the cast on, and she can go."

"Can we see her now?"

"Just for a few minutes. She's drowsy, and I want her to rest."

George turned to the others. "Come on."

They all stood up except Lila. She shook her head, and said, "I'll wait here. Hospital rooms give me the yips."

Pam frowned, and said quickly, "You really should come with us."

"It's only polite," Linda added.

Lila was firm. "Tell Martha I'm sorry, but I can't do it. I'd probably throw up all over the place. Even sitting right here is hard enough."

"Are you sure?" asked George. "We really should all stay together."

"Why?"

"Uh… well, you know…"

"I'll stay here. I know what would happen."

No good, said Pam. We can't leave her alone.

Linda asked, Why not? It's just for a few minutes.

The orders say that she has to be covered at all times.

George cut in. Pam's right, someone has to stay with her. Chicken, do you read me?

Yeah, I've got you. A little fuzzy, but I've got you.

Congratulations. It was not said kindly.

It still happens sometimes.

I want you to stay here with Lila, keep an eye on her.

Why me?

Because the rest of us have to talk to Martha. We have to know what to do next.

And I don't?

Not as much as we do. Not after what happened.

I wanted to tell her I was sorry.

That's a little bit late, and it can wait. Right now you stay here.

You running things now?

That's right. Until Martha can take over again.

Hold on, said Pam. Who elected you God?

We'll work that out later. In the meantime, Chicken stays here.

Chicken shrugged, and sat down. Lila said, "What's the matter?

"I'm going to wait here with you." He gave her a jaunty grin. He had come a long way on a few minutes worth of hand-holding. "I don't much like hospital rooms, either."

Lila covered his hand with hers again. "That's nice, we have something in common."

"Yeah." He gave her hand a tentative squeeze. "I wonder what else. What's your favorite food?"

"Chocolate chocolate-chip."

"Cookies?"

"Ice cream."

"Hey, how about that? Me too."

Yecch, said Pam. Now it's my turn to throw up.

Chicken, listen up, said George. This job I just gave you, it's important.

I know that, said Chicken without breaking his conversation with Lila.

You're in the deep shit now, you know that, don't you?

Yeah.

Don't make it any worse. This is no time to pull one of your stupid stunts, you understand?

I understand.

Just sit here and keep an eye on her. We'll be right inside.