Free Into the Garden by V. C. Andrews

hours before the doctor came to see me. All the while Geraldine sat in the waiting room with me, shaking her head at the magazines displayed on tables around the room.
"What if a child comes in here? They could read or look at any of these. Just look at this picture of this actress in her nightgown. She might as well be naked. You can look right through it and see what she had for breakfast."
I was still in too much pain to really listen or reply, but I saw the way the other patients were gaping at her and listening to the things she said. They were all whispering to each other.
Finally, the nurse had me return to the examination room where the doctor had my X-rays up on the lighted screen.
"It's a fracture," he said. "Did you try to walk on this after you injured it?"
"Yes," I said.
"Hmm. Rotation is unstable," he said, examining my foot. "You'll need a long leg cast and you'll have to have frequent X-rays to avoid delayed discovery of disastrous displacement."
Geraldine groaned as if this was all happening to her instead of me.
"Doctors and medicine," she muttered.
"Pardon me?" the doctor said.
"Nothing," she mumbled, turning to me. "This is what you get being places you're not supposed to be."
"Oh. How did this happen?" he asked.
"I fell trying to get down from the attic," I lied.
He nodded.
"You'll be all right," he added, and called the nurse to start the preparations for my cast. After another three hours, we were on our way home and I had a cast and crutches. They had given me something for the pain, too, and I felt myself starting to drift in and out of sleep.
Either Geraldine finally stopped complaining about Doctor Marlowe, the girls, and me or I simply didn't hear her anymore. The medicine was kicking in and turning off my eyes, my ears, even my thoughts.
When we got home, she had to help me out of the car. Going up the stairs to my room was an ordeal, especially because I felt so bleary-eyed. She didn't have the strength to support me and I wobbled and made her scream. Somehow we managed, and I got into bed. Almost the moment my head hit the pillow, I was asleep, and when I woke up, I could see that it was nearly twilight. My stomach rumbled. I hadn't eaten anything all day. I groaned and started to sit up, forgetting the cast. It quickly reminded me this was not a dream.
As usual the door to my room was closed. I threw my leg and cast over the side of the bed and turned myself around, reaching for the crutches. After I caught my breath, I hobbled to the door and opened it.
"Mother!" I called. A moment later she was at the foot of the stairway.
"What?"
"I'm hungry and thirsty," I said.
"Fine. Now I'll become a maid. Go back to bed. I'm bringing up your supper," she said.
"Did anyone call me?" I called after her.
"No," she shouted.
She wouldn't tell me if they had, I thought. Why did I even bother to ask?
A little while later, she came up the stairs, each of her steps sounding heavier than the one before it. She looked out of breath, even pale when she came through my bedroom door carrying the tray.
"I can come downstairs to eat," I said. She nodded.
"Next time you'll have to. I guess I'm not as young as I was. Aggravation can age you years in minutes," she added, sending a sharp, cold look my way.
She put the tray down on my desk and I hobbled over to it and sat. There were two boiled eggs, jam and toast, a glass of prune juice and some Jell-O. Usually, she cooked chicken or fish.
"It looks like a hospital meal," I said.
"Complaints? You're lucky to get anything. All this is your fault. Don't forget that," she said, wagging her long, thin finger at me.
"How is it my fault, Mother? You took the ladder away. That was cruel and stupid."
She pulled her shoulders back.
"Don't you dare call me cruel and stupid!" she shouted. She paused, pressed her lips together and made her eyes small and hateful. "Anyway, after what you did, you deserved to be punished."
"What did I do that was so terrible?" I cried, holding up my