The Select Read Free Page B

to take me,
Quinn thought for the hundredth time today. They've just got to.
     
     

CHAPTER TWO
     
    Matt stared at the board on the wall
of the cafeteria.
    WHERE ARE THEY
NOW?
    "Jesus," Tim said over his shoulder.
"This place cranks out its share of dedicated docs, doesn't
it."
    Matt read down the list. In any urban
area of any size across the country, Ingraham graduates manned
inner-city clinics. And never too far away was a Kleederman-owned
medical center or nursing home.
    "That it does," Matt said, then
lowered his voice to a Ted-Baxterish baritone. "Wherever the health
of America is in need, the Ingraham graduate is ready to
serve."
    "So where are the real medical
students?" Tim said as they turned and joined Quinn at a small
table in a corner of the cafeteria.
    Cafeteria? Matt thought. To call this
a cafeteria was like calling the 21 Club an Automat.
    Matt looked around at the white tables
of varying shapes and sizes, scattershot occupied by hopefuls, but
no medical students. The Ingraham's cafeteria was a large, open,
two-story affair. You could enter from the attached classroom
building, in which case you had to walk down a long, curved
stairway, or you could enter directly onto the floor from the
grounds outside. The three outer walls were all
glass—twenty-foot-high panes flanked with white curtains, offering
a panoramic view of the sky and the wooded hills rolling away to
the north. No expense had been spared in outfitting The Ingraham's
facilities, even the cafeteria. And the food...
    They sipped Diet Pepsi or Mountain Dew
as they picked from a communal plate of french fries in the center
of the table. Not ordinary french fries. These were curly-cue
fries, perfectly crisp outside, soft and hot inside, salted with
some sort of crimson seasoning, tangy and peppery. A wedge of
camembert had been placed on the side. Matt had always figured caf
food was caf food everywhere. Not so at The Ingraham.
    "They're home for Christmas break,"
Matt said. "Like we should be."
    "Right," Tim said, his eyes unreadable
behind his shades. "But we want to go to The Ingraham so bad we
give up part of our vacation to come here and take their test. Are
we all that desperate?"
    Matt glanced at Quinn and could almost
read her mind. The Ingraham was her only chance. His family could
send him to any med school that accepted him. His father could
probably take it out of petty cash. Tim's family could help him out
with the tuition and he'd get the rest. Tim was resourceful that
way. But Quinn's family, they were just getting by.
    "I heard there was a group like this
on Monday and another coming in Friday," Matt said. "That's a lot
of applicants for fifty places."
    Matt saw Quinn flinch and
wanted to kick himself. He wished he knew some back-door way to get
her in, but people said The Ingraham was influence proof. Only the
best and the brightest. Well, Quinn certainly qualified there. He'd
never known anyone who deserved more to be a doctor, who was
more right for
medicine. She was born for it. But she looked so scared. He could
all but see the anticipation of rejection in her eyes. He wanted to
tell her it would be okay, it would all work out. But he didn't
know that.
    Tim drained his Pepsi and looked
around.
    "They ought to serve draft beer here.
Might liven up the place."
    Uh-oh, Matt thought. Tim's getting
bored.
    And when he got bored he got strange.
He saw Quinn staring at Tim, probably wondering if he was for real.
The answer was yes—and no. Matt tried to change the
subject.
    "How'd you do in A.C. last
night?"
    "About a thousand."
    "Blackjack?"
    "That's my game."
    Quinn's eyes were wide. "A
thousand dollars ?
In one night? Just like that?"
    Matt wondered how many weeks she'd
slaved at her two waitressing jobs during the summer to earn a
thousand.
    "Yeah," Tim said, "but I can't do that
too often or else my name'll get around and they'll ban me." He
looked around again. "There's got to be some beer here."
    "It's a medical school