The Paper Bag Christmas by Kevin Alan Milne Read Free Book Online Page B

afraid of getting hurt. I’m going to die soon anyway.”
    “Then race me!” Madhu was smiling nonchalantly. “If you win, then we forget all about the Christmas pageant—
none
of us will participate. But if I win, then you must come with us and take whatever part you are assigned. Deal?”
    Katrina didn’t respond immediately. She seemed to be sizing up her challenger. “No,” she said finally.
    “But Katrina!” Madhu fired back. “If you think you can’t be beat, then why—”
    Katrina cut him off mid-sentence. “I’ll race
him
!” She was pointing in my direction.
    I looked back over my shoulder on the off chance that someone had snuck up behind me. There was nobody there. “If the little elf wins, I’ll be in the pageant.”
    Gulp.
    W ITH SO MUCH GOING ON at the hospital that night, it wasn’t hard for us to slip unnoticed to the service elevator located in the east corner of the building. It was the only elevator that still serviced the eighth floor during construction, and it was conveniently out of sight from anyone who might have prevented us from going through with what I was beginning to think was a very bad idea.
    Gurney races, I soon discovered, were not so much races of speed as they were acts of downright stupidity. Yes, they were fast, but speed was of less importance than distance. It was, more or less, a game of chicken on a hospital gurney. Two competitors climbed aboard their own rolling carts near the top of a long, wide access ramp that sloped gently down toward an open stairwell. It wasn’t a steep slope, but the smooth wheels picked up enough velocity on the hard tile floor that by the time racers approached the landing above the stairs, they were moving at a dangerous pace. The winner of the race was the one who jumped off the gurney last.
    Several children had received moderate injuries as a result of their participating in the gurney races, but each had made up a story for the doctors about how they’d been hurt in order to cover up what was going on late at night on floor number eight.
    The so-called races had begun in September when the hospital’s top floor was closed for renovations. A couple of nights each week scores of thrill-seeking patients would sneak upstairs after most of the doctors and nursing staff had gone home for the night. There, beyond the scrutiny of adult supervision, they were free to do as they pleased—and what pleased them the most was racing the gurneys.
    “Y OU SURE ABOUT THIS, Katrina?” I asked once we had selected our gurneys and were ready to begin.
    From the top of the hallway looking down I felt more than a little anxiety about our chosen means to get Katrina to participate in the pageant.
    “Maybe there’s some other competition we could try,” I offered hopefully. “A paper airplane contest would be nice.”
    “Sounds like you’re scared, Molar,” she said, egging me on. “Are you chicken?”
    Even though I was one, I would never admit it. “Yeah, uh huh. As if.” It was a lame comeback, I know, but I was too scared to come up with anything better.
    “Fine,” she said. “Just remember you can’t touch the walls to slow yourself down. Otherwise you are disqualified. And you have to stay head-first on your stomach until you jump off. Got it?”
    “Yeah,” I clucked. “Let’s just get this over with so we can go sign up for the Christmas pageant.”
    Madhu and Aaron stood holding on behind the gurneys, preventing them from rolling away until we were ready to start the race. Next to me, lying rigid on her stomach, Katrina stared intently through her paper bag on the hallway ahead.
    “Okay then, very good. I think we’re all set,” announced Madhu. “Both of you, please be careful. Mo, if you would be so kind as to win, that would be splendid. I am very anxious to become a wise man.” He slapped me on the back for encouragement. “Okay racers, take your mark. Get set. Go!”
    As the last word escaped Madhu’s lips, he and