"What sort of something could show up today?" Sharon immediately asked.
"Nothing terribly serious,"MacCallum assured her. "But if there happens to be kidney damage-which I don't think there is-blood could show up in his urine. Frankly, I'm not expecting anything. And if I were you," he added, "I'd be thinking about going home and getting some sleep myself. Mark's going to be dozing on and off until noon, and there's no use your sitting here any longer."
"I want to be here," Sharon insisted.
"Gohome, Mom," Mark said. "All I'mgonna do is lie here."
Sharon was about to protest, then realized thatMacCallum was right. She could feel her exhaustion in almost every fiber of her body, and her back was stiff from sitting up in the hard chair all night. She stood up. "Okay," she agreed. "But if you need anything, or want anything, call me. All right?"
"Sure," Mark replied, then flushed as she bent over to kiss his cheek.
As she followedMacCallum out of the room, she heard the television go on. Smiling ruefully to herself, she walked with Dr.MacCallum into the waiting room, thanked him once more for all he'd done for Mark, and called Elaine Harris to come and pick her up. Then, while waiting for Elaine, she recalled her conversation with CharlotteLaConner. Her brow creasing into a deep frown, she hurried afterMacCallum, catching up with him just as he was going into his office.
"Dr.MacCallum," she said, "did you ever have a patient named Randy Stevens?"
MacCallumglanced at her sharply. "Randy Stevens? What did you hear about him?"
Quickly, she told him about CharlotteLaConner's visit to the hospital the night before. "The way she was talking," Sharon said, "it sounded like something was wrong with Randy."
MacCallumnodded. "I remember him, of course. He was the biggest star the football team had a year or so ago. Almost another JeffLaConner. And I guess he could be just as mean, too. But then theStevenses moved away. I think his father got transferred to New York or something."
Sharon hesitated, puzzled. "But you never treated him?"
MacCallum'slips tightened. "No one ever asked me to." He seemed about to say something more, but the intercom buzzed loudly and a disembodied voice demandedMacCallum's response to a phone call. Feeling vaguely dissatisfied by what the doctor had told her, and somewhat distracted by the interruption, she thanked him for his time, then hurried out of the hospital. She didn't notice the twin station wagons with rocky mountain high emblazoned on their sides pull into the hospital driveway as she got into Elaine's car.
Dr. Martin Ames, his eyes rimmed with red, emerged from the first of the two wagons. Waving to the occupants of the other car to stay where they were, he strode into the waiting room of County Hospital. He paused near the receptionist's window, inclining his head toward the hall that led toMacCallum's office. "He in?" The nurse glanced up from her work, recognized him, and nodded.
A moment later Ames tapped atMacCallum's door, then let himself in as the other doctor called a cheerful, "Come on in."
MacCallum'sexpression registered a degree of surprise as he recognized Ames, but with a smile he gestured him into the chair opposite his desk. "What brings you out so early?"
Ames reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, which he lay onMacCallum's desk. "Mark Tanner," he said. "I understand he's fit to be moved?"
MacCallumfrowned as he picked up the envelope. "Sure he is," he replied. "But I'm afraid I don't understand…" He pulled a single sheet of paper from the envelope, and his frown deepened as he read an order, signed by Blake Tanner, transferring Mark from County Hospital to the small clinic housed within the sports center. "What's this all about?"MacCallum asked, his gaze shifting from the paper to Ames. "Jeez, Marty, I was going to release the boy tomorrow."
Ames shrugged, his features twisting into a sympathetic grimace. "Search me, Mac. All I know is, I got a call from Jerry Harris out atTarrenTech late last night, asking me if I'd mind taking the case. And you know me-when Jerry Harris calls, I answer. So this morning, one of their guys showed up with that. And here I am."
"But there's no point to it,"MacCallum protested. "There isn't anything seriously wrong with the boy. A few bruises and a couple of cracked ribs."
"Try telling that to a worried father," Ames replied. "Anyway, there's the order. Unless he's not fit for a ten-minute ride, it isn't up to either one of us."
"Unless you refused the case,"MacCallum pointed out dryly, but knew even as he said it that he was wasting his breath. Even if Ames wanted to-whichMacCallum suspected he didn't-Martin Ames would be a fool to jeopardize the generous underwriting of Rocky Mountain High thatTarrenTech provided each year by refusing to do a favor for Jerry Harris.
And Martin Ames was no fool.
"We'll get things started,"MacCallum said. Sighing, he picked up the phone.
Robb Harris approached Phil Collins's office with trepidation. He'd been worried ever since his English teacher had handed him the note halfway through the hour, instructing him to report to the coach during the break before second period. He was almost certain he knew what it was about- Collins was going to want an explanation of his part in the fight last night. But when he entered the office, Collins only told him to take a seat, something he never did if he was going to chew you out. His nervousness giving way to curiosity, Robb dropped his book bag onto the floor and sat down.
"How do you feel about taking over as quarterback?" Collins asked.
Robb stared at him. What was he talking about? Nobody could replace JeffLaConner. And himself? He wasn't even on the offensive team. All he'd ever played was defense.
"LaConner'sout," Collins told him. "At least for now, and maybe for the rest of the season." He chewed at his lower lip for a moment, as if trying to decide how much to tell Robb. But in fact he'd made up his mind an hour ago- the best way to spread the word was by telling one of the kids. "I guess you know what happened last night. Anyway, Jeff's in pretty bad shape. I hear he may wind up in a hospital for quite a while." He didn't have to specify what kind of hospital he was talking about; his tone of voice made it clear.
"Wh-What happened to him?" Robb asked. "Did he just crack up?"
Collins shrugged. "How would I know? I'm a coach, not a shrink. Anyway, I've been going over the line-up, and your name came to the top of the list. Not that I think you're ready," he added deliberately as Robb flushed with pleasure, "but I can't move anybody else from the positions they're already playing. And your passing's not bad, all things considered." He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head, sizing Robb up. "How about last night?" he asked finally. "I heard you were involved, too."
Robb's shoulders moved dismissively. "Jeff took a swing at me, but it wasn't too bad."
"Well, why don't we let the computers be the judge of that," he said.
Five minutes later, stripped down to his gym shorts, Robb met Collins in the tiny exercise room off the boys' gymnasium. Despite its small size, it was packed with a large variety of workout equipment, all of it attached by a series of cables to a small computer on a desk in one corner. Robb began a familiar routine of exercises, ones he'd performed hundreds of times before, quickly moving from one machine to the next. Here, his progress was monitored by the movement of the machines themselves, rather than of his own body. Though he knew the measurements taken were nowhere near as exact as the ones the machinery at Rocky Mountain High were capable of, it was still always interesting to see the results which came out on a series of graphs and charts the printer spewed forth at the end of each session.
Fifteen minutes later he was done, and a moment after that the printer came to life, chattering madly for nearly another full minute. At last Collins tore off the printout, studied it for a moment, then handed it to Robb. "Not bad," the coach commented. "But not really great, either."