11. Nurse Oshkosh

Chapter 11 Nurse Oshkosh Ms. Diz helped me limp to the nurse's office. When I sat down in a green plastic chair, I remembered to groan a little. "I'll go find the nurse," said Ms. Diz. "Roscoe, you stay put." While she was gone, I thought about what injuries I needed. They would have to be bad enough to get me out of the talent show.

Not ambulance bad. But bad enough to get me a nice pair of crutches. It wouldn't be easy. I knew Ms. Vasquez, the nurse. She'd been a nurse a long time. She could spot a faker a mile away. The door opened. I closed my eyes. I groaned and grabbed my busted leg. I groaned so well that even I believed me. "Here's the patient," said Ms. Diz. "Roscoe, I'll check on you in a while, sweetie." I opened my eyes. Where was Ms. Vasquez?

A man was standing there! He was tall and skinny, with one of the heart-hearing death-o-scopes around his neck. A doctor? This was bad news. Doctors had X-ray machines. They could look inside and tell when you were faking. Kind of like moms. "You're not Ms. Vasquez," I said. "She's got a cold," the man said. "I don't need a whole doctor. A nurse will be plenty, I think." The man smiled. "I am a nurse, Roscoe. My name's John Oshkosh."

I accidentally laughed. "Which part are you laughing at?" he asked. "My name or my job?" "Both," I admitted. "No problem," he said. "I get that a lot." "But you're a guy." "Lots of guys are named John," he said. "No. I meant… you know. The nurse part," I said. "Lots of guys are nurses." "But it's kind of a girl job, isn't it?" I asked. Mr. Oshkosh looked surprised. "I've always just thought it was a great job." I felt kind of bad, pointing out that he was in the wrong line of work.

But I figured someone should have let him in on that information by now. "Let's take a look," said Mr. Oshkosh. "Where does it hurt?" "Everywhere," I said. I remembered to groan again. "My left leg is broken, I think," I added. "And my right elbow and my left appendix." I did not know what an appendix was exactly. But I figured a broken one might need some crutches. "Hmm." Mr. Oshkosh looked at me. "You're going to be a complicated case." "Are you sure you're a nurse?" I asked. He sat down next to me on a rolling stool. "Yep. Went to nurse school and everything."

He gently moved my leg up and down. "OWWW," I cried. "You said it was your left leg," said Mr. Oshkosh. "That's your right."