OCR Text |
Show Twisters . . . 80 "There's a toilet and drinking water. I'll send the matron in." We just stood there after he left, looking dumfounded. "Are we in jail?" I asked Stacey. "The women'8 . . . that's what he said." It was pretty nice, if you asked me. I didn't see any bars anywhere. "Are we locked in?" Arthur asked right off, trying the door. He looked relieved to find we weren't. We poked our heads into the open bedroom spaces. They were identical. Two single beds, or cots, in each. Otherwise bare. No posters, pictures, plants-nothing. What I noticed right off was how warm the air felt. My skin shivered with joy. For the first time in hours, I knew I was going to be warm! In fact, the bedroom we picked for ourselves was very warm. I was glad. There was plainly nothing else to be glad about, getting stuck in a jail, for crying out loud! Suddenly I realized how tired I was. I sat down on one of the beds, wishing I could just fall over and go to sleep. I had worried myself plumb out. Besides, we'd come to a dead end. Our low, skinny jail room with its high window was a dead end if I ever saw one. "Where'8 the John?" Arthur asked, practically dancing now that he had a chance to go. Stacey found it, told him to wash up, too, while he was in there. Then she sat down on the bed opposite me and we stared at each other, Stacey smiled, which made me smile because her face went all crooked on one side from the swelling in her nose and cheek. "You okay, Dan?" "Yeah." |