Free Miriam's Well by Lois Ruby Page A

only been into this a week, and there were already pages and pages about me. Gerri was pretty and black and made-up like a model in a red knit suit that would have been perfect on Diana. She said the right things, but I didn’t think she cared much about me. I’d heard that she had about sixty other kids to deal with.
    â€œOkay, I found it. You’ve got to take your temperature twice a day, seven a.m. and five p.m., and keep a record of it. Then, every two weeks, on Fridays, you go in to see Dr. Gregory. The hospital will do periodic blood work and bone scans, unless things turn sour before then. And don’t go to Europe or Bermuda or anywhere. That about covers it.”
    â€œIt’s just so ridiculous, Gerri. I’m going to be fine. I’m a lot better already, thank God. And you’ve met my uncles. Can’t you just see them bringing me to the hospital every two weeks to see Dr. Gregory?”
    Gerri pressed her lips together as if she were blotting her lipstick. I’d never seen anyone with such deep, wide lips, which she outlined in a dark brown shade. “Sure, I can see it, Miriam, because you and I don’t have any choice in the thing. It’s like the judge is king, and he says how it’s gotta be in his kingdom. We just do what he says. Ask your lawyer; he’ll tell you. It’s because you’re what we call a CINC.”
    â€œI know, I’ve heard it nine hundred times this week—a Child In Need of Care, like neglected and abused children. But that’s just it, Gerri. I’m seventeen and not exactly a child. In seven months I’ll be voting.”
    â€œYes, but SRS can legally maintain custody until you’re twenty-one.”
    â€œAnyway, I’m not abused or neglected. I’ve got a good, loving family and church. They take care of me.”
    â€œFact is, Miriam, that’s not the way Judge Bonnell sees it. He says your family is neglecting you by not treating your disease.”
    I picked up my suitcase and winced in pain. Naturally, it didn’t escape her.
    â€œYou’re hurting, girl. What’s your family doing about that? They seeing that you get some pain pills? They getting you treatment for that bone tumor? Are they even giving you vitamins to build yourself back up? If they’re not, it looks like neglect to the rest of us who don’t have a fax machine directly to God. Now, I’ll stop by your home later to see you’re settled in and to tell your mother what she has to do.”
    Just before Uncle Benjamin was due to pick me up, Brother James came to pray with me. He put his hands on my head. Usually he smelled of strong soap or of the faintly rusty odor of outdoor labor, but there was something different this time. I couldn’t place it.
    â€œGuide this child through the days ahead,” he said, in his smooth, reassuring voice. “Visit her every hour of every day and hasten her return to strength. Give her caretakers the benefit of Your wisdom and compassion. Above all, ease her doubt, sweet Jesus, ease her doubt so the pain in her body and in her heart may be lifted. A-men.”
    â€œA-men,” I repeated and opened my eyes. What smelled different? A new shirt, something on his hands? “Mr. Bergen was here,” I said. “I like him.”
    â€œGood, good.” Brother James seemed distracted, with his hands jammed into his pockets and his shoulders hunched up. Or impatient, like someone waiting for a late bus.
    â€œI was wondering how you picked Mr. Bergen, or did he pick us? Or did someone send him to us?”
    â€œSomeone surely sent him.” Brother James took one hand out of his pocket and pointed to the ceiling, which meant beyond the ceiling. “The Lord always provides. Mr. Bergen is good, the best there is, because his specialty is civil rights. Your rights are being violated, child, and your family’s rights, and your religious rights, and these