Janice stared at her father, lying motionless before her on the hospital bed, a series of tubes and wires connecting him to various machines and letting everyone know he was still alive. She tried to hold in the tears but was not overly successful. He seemed very peaceful and calm, and not at all like someone who had quite recently been caught in a terrible house fire, suffered severe smoke inhalation, and fallen into a coma.

A pathetic heaving of choked breath was uttered behind her. The overwhelming emotion in that breath threatened to send Janice over the edge, so she quickly focused on her father’s bedding, searching for imperfections she could fix in the way the blanket had been gently tucked into the sides. Spotting a slightly mussed fold in the corner of the blanket by her father’s left foot, she reached out to pull it taut.

“Give it a break, Janice, will ya?” mumbled her sister Sydney.

Janice stopped midreach. “It’s messy,” she said.

“It’s fine,” Sydney replied with just a hint of sisterly fury.

“The doctors say he could wake up anytime, anytime,” said the smelly, pudgy lawyer guy whose name Janice had not bothered to remember. “All we can do is wait.”

Another half gasp/half sob from behind caused Janice to wheel around and face the weeping individual. “Why are you weeping?” she asked.

Miss Guacaladilla, the chinless social worker who had been with them every moment since she’d ruined all their lives by coming to school bearing news of the fire, wiped her left eye clear of tears with the back of her hand, further streaking mascara across her already-mascara-covered cheek. “He’s in a coma! He’s lying right there! In a coma!”

“We know!” snapped Sydney. “You don’t have to rub it in!” Zack moved quickly to her side, placing a calming hand on her shoulder.

“At least he’s alive,” said Janice. Her siblings all silently agreed. By some miracle—no one knew how—their father had managed to pull himself out of their burning home before succumbing to his injuries. Had he not, the children would be standing at his grave instead of his bedside.

“It’s just so tragic,” wept Miss Guacaladilla.

Miss Guacaladilla seemed to find everything in life absolutely miserable, and her constant sobbing was not helping Janice or her siblings deal with the situation in a healthy, orderly manner. Janice felt a rising urge to intensely dislike the woman.

That’s not fair, thought Janice, reprimanding herself. She’s just the messenger.

Still, without having anyone else to blame, dumping everything on Miss Guacaladilla (she had asked the children to call her Lubella; the children had refused) made Janice feel better.

“Can he hear us?” asked little Alexa.

“Probably,” stated Nurse Hallabug, who had been lurking quietly in the back. She had said she wanted to give the family some privacy, but Janice suspected she really just enjoyed watching people suffer. “We are almost pretty sure that there is a decent chance that it is possible that your father can hear you from time to time. If you don’t mumble. We think.” She smiled at them—one of those “I’m smiling to show how sad I am for you” smiles—and nodded.

Alexa looked up at Janice, who nodded back down to her. “Go ahead,” said Janice.

The littlest Rothbaum inched closer to the hospital bed, standing up on her tippy-toes to get a better look. “Please wake up, Daddy,” she said.

Miss Guacaladilla broke into new sobs.

Zack stepped next to Alexa and lifted her into his arms. Janice joined them and took her sister’s hand, then was slightly surprised to feel Sydney take her other hand. The four children stood united next to their father, awkwardly waiting for one of the conscious and healthy adults in the room to do or say something.

A throat cleared. A nose sniffed. Someone loudly scratched an itch.

“Mr. Rothbaum should probably be allowed his rest,” said Nurse Hallabug. “There’s every reason to believe that it might be good if maybe he was left alone. Perhaps.”

“Yes, well. I must be off, be off,” said the smelly, pudgy lawyer guy with a commendable sigh. “Things to do, papers to file, and whatnot, whatnot.”

Miss Guacaladilla gave a loud, teary sniff as she approached the four siblings. “I do hope you poor, sad dears are ready to depart,” she said, wiping her face with the back of her hand yet again. “We must administer to your future.”

“Our future?” asked Janice. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you sweet, innocent, miserable children,” announced Miss Guacaladilla in a warbling voice. “With your father in a coma, there is no one to look after you. Also, there’s the upsetting matter of your house burning down. I’m so sorry to tell you, but you have nowhere to go. No one to help you.”

The children looked at one another. It was obvious none of them had considered this at all. “What are we supposed to do?” asked Zack, speaking for the group.

“Oh! Yours is such an unfortunate fate!” bawled Miss Guacaladilla, her tears leaping from her face and sprinkling everyone with a fine mist. “I’m afraid you must come with me. It’s time to put you…in the system!”