"Replica04 - Perfect Girls - Kaye, Marilyn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kaye Marilyn)

Amy thought Tammy could spare a dose of cheerful bedside manners on the girl, but she didn't dwell on it. The breakfast looked too good: scrambled eggs, bacon, cinnamon toast. The smell of cinnamon reminded Amy of the assembly they'd had back at school. That seemed so long ago now.
The food wasn't half bad, and she ate it all. She had just finished the last piece of toast when the door opened again. This time a tall woman in a white coat came in, followed by Tammy. "Good morning," the woman said. "I'm Dr. Markowitz. And you must be . . ." She looked at the chart in her hand. "Amy Candler."
"Yes, that's me," Amy said. "And I'm fine now."
The doctor smiled. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" She went through the same routine Tammy had performed—heart, pulse, blood pressure, temperature. Amy was barely aware of her touch. She was frantically trying to come up with some reason to avoid having any tests done.
"Well, you check out absolutely fine," Dr. Markowitz said.
Amy exhaled. "Great. Can I go now?"
The doctor shook her head. "We still don't know why you fainted, Amy. It's our policy to keep undiagnosed patients forty-eight hours for observation."
"Forty-eight hours! But there's nothing wrong with me! You just said so!"
"You're right, Amy," Dr. Markowitz said soothingly. "But it's better to be safe than sorry. I'll be by to see you later."
Amy groaned as the doctor left. The thought of spending two days in a hospital wasn't very appealing. "Is there a phone I can use?" she asked, climbing out of bed. "I want to call Mrs. Morgan."
"Whoa!" Tammy said. She placed a hand on Amy's shoulder. "Back in bed you go. I told you before, Mrs. Morgan said she'd be by later with your friends."
Amy obediently, if halfheartedly, got under the bedcovers again. Suddenly she realized she was probably a mess. "How's my hair?" she asked.
Tammy grinned. "If you stay put," she said, "I'll bring you a mirror and a hairbrush."
When she left, Amy felt around the side of her bed and found the button that adjusted it. She fooled with it for a while, raising her legs, then her head, until she found a comfortable position. So comfortable, she felt like she could go right back to sleep . . .

In the hotel suite, Tasha watched and listened anxiously as her mother spoke on the phone. It was frustrating, only hearing one end of the conversation.
"Yes . . . yes, I see. Yes, of course, I understand," Mrs. Morgan was saying as she jotted something down on a pad. "No, but I'm responsible for her. Her mother is out of the country at the moment, and I haven't been able to reach her. All right. . . . Yes, I know the visiting hours. Thank you."
"What's going on, what did they tell you?" Eric asked as soon as she put the phone down. "Is Amy going to be okay?"
Mrs. Morgan held up a hand as if to ward off any more questions. "I'll tell you everything the doctor told me. She said it's not any kind of food poisoning, but they're not sure what caused Amy to faint. Maybe it was some kind of virus. The important thing is that Amy's resting comfortably now, and she doesn't appear to be in any immediate danger."
Tasha looked at Eric. They both knew perfectly well that no ordinary virus could have any effect on Amy. But their parents were totally in the dark about Amy's superior genetic makeup, and there was no way they could be told. Eric gave a slight nod, as if he'd read Tasha's thoughts.
"What are they going to do?" Mr. Morgan wanted to know.
"Well, this doctor"—Mrs. Morgan checked the pad—"Dr. Markowitz, said they want to keep Amy under observation for a day or two. But we can go see her. Visiting hours are from eleven to three." She checked her watch. "It's eight-thirty now . . . what time would it be on that island where Nancy is staying?"
"It's just off the coast of Africa, so there's a seven-hour time difference," Mr. Morgan told her. "It would be three-thirty in the afternoon there."
"I'll try calling again," Mrs. Morgan said.
"Good luck." Mr. Morgan frowned. "I've tried ten times, and I can't even get a connection. The operator said something was wrong with the lines there. I wonder if the concierge down in the lobby could be of any help. Maybe we could send a telegram."
"Why don't you go downstairs and ask while I call?" Mrs. Morgan suggested.
With her father gone and her mother busy on the phone, Tasha beckoned to Eric to join her in a corner of the room where they could talk privately.
"She can't be sick," Tasha whispered.
Eric shook his head. "She's never been sick. But maybe there's some special illness only clones can get, and she didn't know about it. Look, it's probably nothing. Like the doctor said, they just want to watch her and make sure she's okay before they let her go." His tone was nonchalant and reassuring, but Tasha could see the concern in his eyes.
"What should we do?" she wondered aloud. "Should we tell Mom and Dad what we know—"
Eric shook his head before she finished her question. "We don't do anything right now," he said firmly. "Look, we're going to see Amy in two hours, and she'll tell us if there's a problem."
Normally Tasha was annoyed when Eric took on his know-it-all, I'm-the-boss attitude. But this time she knew they were on the same side. They both understood how dangerous it could be if anyone discovered the truth about Amy. Even a doctor who only wanted to help her would undoubtedly tell the world about his discovery. And if the word got out . . . Tasha didn't even want to consider the consequences.
Mrs. Morgan was hanging up the phone. The frown on her face told Tasha that she hadn't received any good news.
"There's been some sort of wild weather conditions around that island," she reported. "Phone lines are down."
Just then, Mr. Morgan returned with the same news from the concierge. "There's no way to contact Nancy at the moment. But hopefully the lines will be repaired within the next few hours. There's nothing we can do but wait."
"I can't just sit around here, doing nothing," Tasha fumed. "And I don't want to wait two hours. I have to see Amy now."
For once, her father didn't reprimand her for being impatient. "Why don't we go over to the hospital?" he suggested. "Some are pretty easygoing when it comes to visiting hours."
"All right," Mrs. Morgan agreed. "But I think you kids should stay here."
"No way," Tasha and Eric said in unison.
Mrs. Morgan didn't argue. "What about Jeanine?" she asked. "We can't just leave her." She got up and walked out of the suite to cross the hall. Mr. Morgan followed.
"Amy isn't going to want to see Jeanine," Eric declared once he and Tasha were alone.
"And I don't want her getting near Amy," his sister added fervently. "I don't trust her."
"There's nothing she can do to Amy in a hospital," Eric pointed out.
"But maybe she's the one who put her there," Tasha replied darkly.
Eric was taken aback. "Are you nuts? What could Jeanine have done to her?"
"I don't know." Tasha didn't have the slightest idea, but she liked blaming Jeanine. "Maybe she put a spell on Amy?" she suggested.
"Get real," Eric said. "Jeanine might be a troll, but she isn't a witch."
"That's what you think," Tasha muttered.
Mrs. Morgan returned. "Jeanine's going shopping with another contestant and her mother. She wants you guys to make sure you tell Amy that she's thinking of her and hopes she gets well right away."
"But not before the contest is over," Tasha added.