Operation Final Notice by Matthew Landis

Author:Matthew Landis [Landis, Matthew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2022-11-08T00:00:00+00:00

23

THE PRIVATE CONCERT

JO

I finish my song and get a drink from the practice room sink. Mr. Newsum emailed me some wrist exercises after I told him what happened on Friday, so I do those too.

“Sounds lovely,” Nurse Monica tells me when I leave through the office. “I could listen to it all day.”

In the cafe, I grab a rice pudding and go sit with Ronny at a table with two other residents. One has short, curly white hair and glasses with thick frames—Jeanie, I think. Her friend Jean has a brown wig and hearing aids that don’t seem to fit right.

“Jo, nobody here has ever had a peanut butter and Fluff sandwich,” Ronny tells me. “Like can you believe that?”

I say, “It does have a lot of sugar.”

“Ha right.”

“Do they put the marshmallows into the peanut butter jar?” Jeanie asks.

“No, the Fluff is in its own jar,” Ronny explains. “Probably it’s like a hundred marshmallows melted down into liquid and that’s one jar. You put it on the bread like jelly but it’s marshmallow so together it’s peanut butter and Fluff.”

“I like apple butter,” Jean says loudly. “Easier on the stomach.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing,” Ronny says. “Probably you mean apple sauce.”

“Apple butter,” Jean says even louder.

“You’re shouting,” says Jeanie. She reaches over and pats my hand. “Josefina: How is your wrist feeling?”

“Better,” I say. “Thanks for asking.”

“Better than Ronald’s face,” Jean says. She and Jeanie laugh with their eyes shut.

“Hey I’m a hero,” Ronny says. “Probably they’re gonna be telling that story around here for a hundred years.”

“We can barely remember our names some days,” says Jeanie. “How are we going to remember yours?”

“Where am I?” Jean shouts. “This isn’t my house.” She pretends to be scared, and then giggles with Jeanie. “And who’s this young man at my table making up stories about jars of liquid marshmallows.”

“Hahaha,” Ronny says. I laugh so hard, my ribs hurt.

Ms. Sarah walks over to our table. “Ladies, Ronny: Sorry to break up the party, but can I steal our cellist?”

“There are no seats open at this table,” Noreen calls over to us. She points at Ronny. “Am I understood?”

“Yes, thank you, Noreen,” Ms. Sarah says.

“I mean I’m no Richard but I been pretty nice to her,” Ronny tells Ms. Sarah.

“You’ve been more than nice. Keep it up.”

I get my cello and follow Ms. Sarah to a room on the other side of the Manor. We walk into a small entryway that has a bathroom and two doors with name tags. The door on the right says Eleanor and the one on the left says Harold. A nurse goes into Harold’s room with a tray of food and closes the door behind her.

“Not all residents make the journey to the cafe,” Ms. Sarah says. “Some are too sick. Some don’t want to go.”

“Why not?”

She tucks her clipboard under one arm and thinks. “Who do you sit with at lunch?”

“My friends.”

“But what if they weren’t there? Maybe it would be easier to eat in the library.

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