The — Midnight Gang

He didn’t know if he’d ever return to the hospital. But he knew, with absolute certainty, that the midnight hours would always belong to those who chose to be brave, and kind, and a little bit reckless in the dark.

Their leader was a wiry, sharp-eyed boy named Tom, who had been a resident of the third-floor long-term ward for eleven months—long enough to know which floorboards groaned and which door locks were broken. His lieutenants were Molly, a girl with a cloud of frizzy hair and a plaster cast on her left leg, and Raj, a quiet, watchful boy who hadn’t spoken a word since his operation, but who could pick any lock in the building with a bent paperclip and a calm focus. The Midnight Gang

“Better,” said Tom. “A wish.”

They broke no real rules, stole nothing of value, and never woke a single patient who needed sleep. They simply repaired what the daylight could not: broken spirits. He didn’t know if he’d ever return to the hospital

That night, the gang held one last meeting in the supply closet. Tom, for the first time, looked unsure. His lieutenants were Molly, a girl with a

“Rest is for daytime,” Tom said, pulling back the blanket. “The night is for adventures.”

“Get up,” he whispered. “You’re coming with us.”