Ward 13 by Tommy Donbavand Page B

was disgusting. Worse than the spaghetti bolognese they’d served up the night before.
    â€œCome on, son!” grinned the kitchen attendant through broken teeth. “Get it down you. It’ll do you good!”
    Mark ran his fork through the soggy mashed potatoes on the plate. They looked horrible enough – and the carrots were as hard as rocks – but it was the chicken breast that really looked as though it had seen better days. And… if Mark peered closely… he could almost make out somesort of faint writing on the top of the piece of meat. He could make out a few letters … R… O… Y… A…
    â€œYou’re not eating that!” said a voice, and the plate was snatched from his hands.
    Mark looked up. The other nurse on duty that night – the one he’d heard others call Helen – was standing beside his bed.
    â€œBut, I’m hungry,” Mark moaned. And he was. Even if the food didn’t exactly look appetising, he hadn’t had a bite to eat since the limp cheese sandwich he’d been given at lunchtime.
    â€œWell, hospital food is no good for a growing young boy at the best of times!” said Helen, sliding the plate onto the bedside table. She reached into a bag at her side and pulled out a plastic tub. “I just had to wait until old Grotbags from the kitchen had gone before I could say so.”
    Mark took the tub and opened it. Inside was a large portion of lasagne – and it was still warm.He looked up at the nurse.
    â€œLeftovers from my dinner before I came on shift,” she said. “But don’t tell anyone else, or they’ll all expect the same treatment.” With that, she ruffled Mark’s hair and hurried away.
    Mark rested back against his pillows and grabbed the fork from the white goo pretending to be potatoes on the plate beside the bed. He took a mouthful of lasagne – delicious! Quickly, he began to tuck in.
    That’s when he noticed Archie in the far corner of the ward. Another member of Jack’s Loners group, Archie was only nine years old. He was in Ward 13 waiting for an eye operation, and had a large white patch secured over the offending eye. Right now, he was peering suspiciously at his chicken with the good one.
    Mark glanced down at the slab of lasagne in his tub and sighed. Sometimes it didn’t pay to be the good guy. He pressed the lid back into place,carefully climbed out of bed, and half hopped, half limped across the ward to Archie.
    â€œBudge up!” he said, dropping onto the bed beside the younger boy.
    Archie sniffed at the air. “What’s in there?” he asked, eyeing the plastic tub.
    â€œLasagne,” Mark replied. “Enough for both of us.”
    Archie dumped his hospital meal and both boys tucked into the home-prepared Italian food.
    â€œThis is great!” said Archie through a big mouthful.
    Mark grinned. The kid was right. It was.
    â€œMy nan used to make lasagne like this,” Archie said. “You know, before she…”
    The pair fell quiet, but kept eating.
    â€œJack says it won’t be too long before a foster family chooses me,” said Archie. “He told me after we’d finished playing cards this morning.”
    Mark glanced along the line of beds on this side of the ward to the empty slot where Jack should have been. He carefully put down his fork.
    â€œArchie…” he began, but he didn’t have a chance to say any more. A cry came up from the nurse’s station in the corridor outside.
    â€œDr Stone is coming!”

CHAPTER 4
THE SURGEON
    Ward 13 flew into a panic. Half a dozen nurses appeared – including several Mark had never seen before – and they began to tidy up the room as quickly as they could.
    Nurse Helen dashed over to Archie’s bed and took Mark by the arm. “Come on,” she said. “Time to get you back in your own bed.”
    â€œBut we haven’t finished