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.

The Midnight Gang’s second rule was that every patient got one impossible wish, granted before dawn. Mr. Pemberton, after a long pause, sighed and said, “I used to sail. On a real schooner. I miss the feel of the sea.”

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

This was the hour of the Midnight Gang.

When they returned him to his pillow and crept back to their own beds, Leo felt something he hadn’t felt since the accident: a warm, electric spark in his chest. Not magic, exactly. But close. He didn’t know if he’d ever return to the hospital

And so, Leo found himself being helped into a faded red bathrobe, his sneakers squeaking faintly as they crept past the nurse’s station, where the night nurse, Mrs. Hibbins, was deep into a crossword puzzle and a lukewarm cup of tea.

The first rule of the Midnight Gang was simple: Find someone who is lonely, scared, or forgotten, and give them a story they’ll never forget. I miss the feel of the sea

Over the following weeks, the Midnight Gang pulled off more impossible feats. They built a rocket ship out of IV stands and bedsheets for a little girl who dreamed of Mars. They staged a silent puppet show using the shadows of their own hands for a boy too weak to lift his head. They even “borrowed” the hospital’s ancient piano (with the help of a very sleepy janitor and a promise to return it by 5 a.m.) and rolled it to the isolation ward so a mute violin player could hear music one last time.

“What’s this?” the old man grumbled. “A mutiny?”

Mr. Pemberton closed his eyes. For the first time in years, he smiled.