The intercom squeaked at him.
“Grape, strawberry, whatever they have,” he said. “White bread.” With a snort of disgust he released the button and turned back to Little Ozzie. “Now I want you to tell me about the fat lady who brought you here. You know who I mean?”
Little Ozzie shook his head.
“Sure you do. She has curly blond hair and blue eyes. She came into the building with you, and then she assaulted the therapist at the front desk?”
“She’s not fat,” Little Ozzie said. “Fat means ugly.”
Dr. Bob stared at him for a moment, then nodded to himself and made a note. “Interesting. But you know who I mean. What’s her name?”
“Candy.”
“Do you mean that’s her name, or just that she gave you some candy?”
“Uh huh.”
“Did she give you candy?”
“Uh huh.”
“Do you know her name?”
Seeing that “Candy” was not a satisfactory response, Little Ozzie shrugged.
“Is she your sister or a cousin—something like that?”
Little Ozzie hesitated. “I don’t think so.”
“Have you ever been to Philadelphia, Osgood?”
“Yes.”
“You have? Fine. When was that?”
“Last year.”
“Why did you go?”
“Everybody did.”
“Your mommy and daddy?”
“No, they couldn’t come.”
“The lady who brought you here?”
“No,” Little Ozzie said again. “From school. Everybody from school. We saw where they signed the Decoration of Independence.”
“I see, it was a class trip.”
“Uh huh.”
Dr. Bob picked up his pencil and balanced it between the tips of his fingers. “The reason I asked you about Philadelphia, Osgood, is that the label in the dress the lady who brought you here wore indicates she bought it there. Do you know anything about that?”
“No,” Little Ozzie said for the third time. “Can I talk to her?”
The growl of angry voices came from the hallway. Dr. Bob said, “Don’t pay any attention to that, Osgood. Sometimes we have a little trouble with the sick people here. It will be all right; we’ll soon have them calmed down again.”
The angry voices grew louder. A woman who sounded like the one who had come for him screamed, “We’ll call the police!” and he heard glass breaking. The door flew open, and a man with a brown face and stringy black hair looked at Dr. Bob. “Nah,” the man said. “This ain’t him.” Before he shut the door again, Little Ozzie noticed he wore earrings. Little Ozzie had never seen a man with earrings before.
“What the hell!” Dr. Bob stood up. Little Ozzie got up too, beginning to feel better. Dr. Bob went out the door with Little Ozzie at his heels.
The crash had come from a glass of milk. Milk had made a star in the middle of the brown tile, full of glassy twinkles. By one point of the star there was a sandwich somebody had stepped on. Dr. Bob jumped over the star and ran out into the corridor.
People in white pajamas were milling around, mixed up with nurses and doctors and white-coat men. In the middle was the man who had looked in Dr. Bob’s office. With him was a littler, younger man in a soft felt hat and a woman with her hair in a red handkerchief. They were talking more than anybody else. They waved their arms a lot and the people in white pajamas saw them and waved too.
Ozzie ducked between legs, getting closer and closer to the man with the earrings until he got caught by the woman, who held him at the end of her arms, then squatted down in front of him.
“What are you doin’ here, little boy?”
Ozzie decided she smelled like cooking hamburgers outside. It was a nice smell, but he was getting pretty tired of people who asked questions. “What are
“I’m lookin’ for a old man named Ben Free. You know him?”
Ozzie shook his head.
“He’s a real old man. His eyes look bad, and he’s got a white beard. Have you seen a old man like that?”
