My Name Is River by Wendy Dunham Page B

needs to stay overnight so he can monitor her and make changes to her heart medicine. As he starts to leave, he turns around. “You know,” he says, “your grandmother started to explain what happened. She said she was hopping down the driveway to get her mail, but then she closed her eyes and fell asleep. She never finished explaining. Anyway, I thought the whole hopping thing sounded strange, so I’m wondering if you have any idea why she would’ve been hopping when most folks her age walk.”
    I tell him about her nincompoop therapist.

18

    A Plan of Our Own
    O ne good thing about Gram being in the hospital is that I get to spend the night at the Whippoorwills’.
    When Billy and I read the little Whippoorwills a story before bed, they beg us to read a Bible story about a giant fish that swallowed a guy named Jonah. It’s an interesting story (and Billy swears it’s true). The story begins with God asking Jonah to do something, but since Jonah doesn’t want to do it, he tries running away from God (which is a stupid thing to do if you ask me). Jonah thinks he outsmarts God and takes the first boat out of town (that’s because they didn’t have cars back then). But God doesn’t let Jonah get away, and he makes a storm happen. When the waves become wild, Jonah gets tossed overboard and swallowed by a giant fish (Jonah actually stays in its stomach for three days). Well, Jonah finally gets smart. He asks God for a second chance, and lucky for him, he gets one. God tells the fish to spit Jonah out on shore, which it did (even the fish knew enough to obey God). Sometimes people have to learn the hard way.
    After we finish the story, I help tuck the little Whippoorwills into bed. Each one of them says a prayer for Gram. Even little Forrest.

    In the morning Mrs. Whippoorwill makes everyone breakfast. She has a huge pot of oatmeal simmering on the stove, she’s poured a whole jug of orange juice into a counter full of glasses, and she’s used an entire loaf of bread to make the tallest stack of toast I’ve ever seen.
    Pastor Henry takes a piece of toast off the top and wipes the last bit of oatmeal from his bowl. He says to me, “I’ll bring your grandmother home from the hospital at eleven this morning. That will give her time to rest before you get home from school.”
    I don’t think Pastor Henry knows Gram that much because Gram’s not real good at resting. Even if the doctor gives her strict orders to stay in bed, she’s bound to start up with all her hopping, galloping, milk-jug-leg-lifting, ballet moves (and heaven only knows what else).
    Billy and I ask Pastor Henry if we can go with him, since we want to bring Gram home too, but he shakes his head and insists we go to school.
    When asking doesn’t work, we beg.
    He shakes his head and says, “Not a chance.”

    I try sitting through math class, but I can’t concentrate. I couldn’t care less about long division. All I want is to get Gram and bring her home.
    Later during English, Ms. Grackle instructs us to sit with our partners. “By the end of this class,” she says, “the goal is to have your project essay completely outlined and approved by me.” But Billy and I come up with our own plan (which is definitely not the same as Ms. Grackle’s). We suddenly (and suspiciously) come down with terrible stomachaches, so Ms. Grackle sends us straight to the nurse. Billy and me walk down the hall, holding ourstomachs and making the best groaning noises we can. We reach the nurse’s office, gripping our stomachs and bending over in pain.
    Billy talks first. “Miss Nightingale, River and I don’t feel good. Our stomachs feel awful.”
    I give Miss Nightingale more information. “I think it has something to do with breakfast.”
    â€œShe’s probably right,” Billy says. “We drank sour orange juice, ate toast made with