Read Online 7 Clues to Winning You by Kristin Walker - Free Book Online
Authors: Kristin Walker
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wrong.
“The worst of the worst,” Ms. Eulalie answered, “is that everyone finally come to realize that the biggest bully of all is you.”
Her words halted my breath. That couldn’t be true. Could it?
Ms. Franny stopped knitting mid-stitch and peered over the stilled needles at me. “That’s the worst,” she said. She waited a moment, and then her hands went back into motion. The needles clicked and clacked.
“So what am I supposed to do?” I asked. “Dad always said that the only way to stop a bully is to stand up to him.”
“Standing up to a bully,” Ms. Franny said, “is not the same thing as becoming one.”
“Amen,” Ms. Eulalie agreed. “You have to try to find a peaceful, non-violent resolution. You know, back in Birmingham, Dr. King said—”
“Oh Christ, here we go again.”
Ms. Eulalie slapped both hands down on her mattress. “I already said! Don’t you take the Lord’s name in vain!”
“Aw, somebody make her stop. Make her stop!” Ms. Franny threw her head back on the pillows. “I can’t take it anymore!” She grabbed both knitting needles in one fist and pretended to stab herself repeatedly in the neck.
“Ladies,” I implored, “please!” I heard shoes squeaking on the floor behind me and knew who it was before I even had to look: Darlene, the head floor nurse. She was overweight, middle-aged, and seemed to have gotten sick of nursing about twenty years ago. I never had a conversation with Darlene where she didn’t complain about something. She was that type of person.
“What on EARTH is going on in here? Why do I have to come in here every SINGLE day?” She glared at me. “And why is it always worse when YOU’RE here?”
Ms. Franny bolted upright and brandished her knitting needles like a sword. “You lay off her!”
Darlene sneered and hitched her thumb at the door behind her. “Blythe, go in the common room and call bingo. They’re ready to start. Go on.”
Ms. Eulalie started humming a hymn, which is what she does when she’s trying to bite her tongue. Ms. Franny doesn’t even bother trying. “You are such a sad and hateful woman; you know that, Nurse Ratched?”
Darlene sneered. “Oh, ha ha ha.” She’d been called the name of the evil, sadistic nurse from
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
many times, especially by Ms. Franny.
Darlene smiled snake-like. Slit-eyed and all. Her hands clenched the hem of her Snoopy scrub top. “Watch out, or I might forget your Oxycontin.”
“Ha!” Ms. Franny laughed. “As if I don’t already know that you’re stealing it to sell to drug addicts on the street. Got to buy yourself some more fake fingernails and stripedy hair color, huh? Well, here’s a little secret for you, darling. Fancy striped hair doesn’t make you look any less rotund!”
As Ms. Franny spoke, Darlene’s eyes seemed to swell out of her bulging, crimson cheeks. She pursed her lips into a tight, wrinkled bud. She clearly had zero experience with the lady look.
Ms. Eulalie hummed louder.
Darlene growled through gritted teeth, “BL-YTHE?” When she was really livid, Darlene added syllables to words.
I slid off Ms. Franny’s bed. I didn’t want to leave and go call bingo, but Darlene had the authority to fire me from volunteer work. I didn’t want that. So I kissed the ladies and followed Darlene through the door. Two steps out, I heardMs. Franny start up again back in the room. “Talk about a bully,” she said. “Well, thanks a heap, Ukulele. Fat lot of good your peaceful, non-violent humming did to help me out …”
Darlene’s white orthopedic nursing shoes squeaked so loudly that I couldn’t make out another word. I felt like a scolded child following her down the hall, but she wasn’t the type of person who would walk beside you, either. She always had to be a step or two in front. I sped up and tried to walk next to her just to see if she’d turn it into a race, but she veered off toward her desk.
The common room
“The worst of the worst,” Ms. Eulalie answered, “is that everyone finally come to realize that the biggest bully of all is you.”
Her words halted my breath. That couldn’t be true. Could it?
Ms. Franny stopped knitting mid-stitch and peered over the stilled needles at me. “That’s the worst,” she said. She waited a moment, and then her hands went back into motion. The needles clicked and clacked.
“So what am I supposed to do?” I asked. “Dad always said that the only way to stop a bully is to stand up to him.”
“Standing up to a bully,” Ms. Franny said, “is not the same thing as becoming one.”
“Amen,” Ms. Eulalie agreed. “You have to try to find a peaceful, non-violent resolution. You know, back in Birmingham, Dr. King said—”
“Oh Christ, here we go again.”
Ms. Eulalie slapped both hands down on her mattress. “I already said! Don’t you take the Lord’s name in vain!”
“Aw, somebody make her stop. Make her stop!” Ms. Franny threw her head back on the pillows. “I can’t take it anymore!” She grabbed both knitting needles in one fist and pretended to stab herself repeatedly in the neck.
“Ladies,” I implored, “please!” I heard shoes squeaking on the floor behind me and knew who it was before I even had to look: Darlene, the head floor nurse. She was overweight, middle-aged, and seemed to have gotten sick of nursing about twenty years ago. I never had a conversation with Darlene where she didn’t complain about something. She was that type of person.
“What on EARTH is going on in here? Why do I have to come in here every SINGLE day?” She glared at me. “And why is it always worse when YOU’RE here?”
Ms. Franny bolted upright and brandished her knitting needles like a sword. “You lay off her!”
Darlene sneered and hitched her thumb at the door behind her. “Blythe, go in the common room and call bingo. They’re ready to start. Go on.”
Ms. Eulalie started humming a hymn, which is what she does when she’s trying to bite her tongue. Ms. Franny doesn’t even bother trying. “You are such a sad and hateful woman; you know that, Nurse Ratched?”
Darlene sneered. “Oh, ha ha ha.” She’d been called the name of the evil, sadistic nurse from
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
many times, especially by Ms. Franny.
Darlene smiled snake-like. Slit-eyed and all. Her hands clenched the hem of her Snoopy scrub top. “Watch out, or I might forget your Oxycontin.”
“Ha!” Ms. Franny laughed. “As if I don’t already know that you’re stealing it to sell to drug addicts on the street. Got to buy yourself some more fake fingernails and stripedy hair color, huh? Well, here’s a little secret for you, darling. Fancy striped hair doesn’t make you look any less rotund!”
As Ms. Franny spoke, Darlene’s eyes seemed to swell out of her bulging, crimson cheeks. She pursed her lips into a tight, wrinkled bud. She clearly had zero experience with the lady look.
Ms. Eulalie hummed louder.
Darlene growled through gritted teeth, “BL-YTHE?” When she was really livid, Darlene added syllables to words.
I slid off Ms. Franny’s bed. I didn’t want to leave and go call bingo, but Darlene had the authority to fire me from volunteer work. I didn’t want that. So I kissed the ladies and followed Darlene through the door. Two steps out, I heardMs. Franny start up again back in the room. “Talk about a bully,” she said. “Well, thanks a heap, Ukulele. Fat lot of good your peaceful, non-violent humming did to help me out …”
Darlene’s white orthopedic nursing shoes squeaked so loudly that I couldn’t make out another word. I felt like a scolded child following her down the hall, but she wasn’t the type of person who would walk beside you, either. She always had to be a step or two in front. I sped up and tried to walk next to her just to see if she’d turn it into a race, but she veered off toward her desk.
The common room
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