"Anyway, the bell rang and I got up to leave and Mr.Davison tells me to wait a minute. I figured I was in for one of his heart-to-heart talks, and I wasn't wrong.
"I walked over to the old guy's desk and stood beside it, holding my books behind my back.
"'That's the second test you've failed in a row, Mr.Hughes,' the old guy says. They always call you Mister Hughes at a private school. It sounds pretty phony to me.
"'Yeah, I know,' I told him.
"What I wanted to say was, Lay off me, will you. Just get off my back, why don't you. But I didn't. I'm really pretty good by now at keeping a straight face and looking sincere when adults are giving me a lecture, if you know what I mean.
"Well, the old guy takes off his glasses, which is always a bad sign. He stares at me with his beady little eyes and asks me if I have an explanation of why I'm doing so poorly.
"I looked all interested and sincere and told him that I didn't have the foggiest idea except that I just didn't get the stuff, was all.
"So he tells me that he figures that I'm just not trying. He tells me that I'm a great disappointment to him, do you believe that? In his snotty old voice he tells me that I failed the test, if I would kindly remember, because I only answered one of the four essay questions.
"So I say, 'I know, sir. I didn't feel like answering the others.'
"Well, that really pissed him off. He goes on about how that's just what he means. If I'd just make the effort to do the required work, I'd be doing just fine. He even told me that the one essay question I did answer was the best one in the class.
"It was the old 'Get off your lazy butt and get to work' speech that I'd heard a million times before. He went on about the worst thing to see in life is when someone with real talent wastes it and all that crap. I wanted to tell him to stuff it, but all I said was, 'Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I'll do better, sir.' I tell you, Brent, if I want to screw up my life, what's it to him, anyway.
"My next class was gym, and since I figured I was late already, I stopped in the boys' room for a quick smoke. I did that a lot. So I sat in one of the stalls for a while puffing away, watching the smoke drifting around my head, cursing old man Davison and trying to cool off.
"Finally I tossed the butt in the john and wandered on to the gym. I knew that class would have started already and I felt about as much like sweating my ass off on the basketball court as I did hearing Davison's spiel about what a great mind I'm wasting. So I went up to the locker room and hung around there for a while. Finally I opened up my locker and got my gym stuff on. I wandered on down to the gym. I was about fifteen or twenty minutes late by then.
"I walked in the door, and the first thing I hear is the gym teacher screaming, 'Hughes! Where you been, Hughes?' He sounded like some sort of wounded hippo or something.
"So I say to him, 'I was talking to Mr.Davison.'
"He asks me if I've got a note and I tell him no, I don't. Mr.Davison didn't give me one and besides I had to stop at the bathroom.
"'Duck walks,' the guy screams at me. "Ten laps around the court duck walking. Move!'
"I should have told him where he could have put those duck walks. If there is anything I hate it's doing those damn duck walks.
"'Move!,' he shouts. 'And make it fast. If I see you out of a squat or slowing down, we'll make it twenty. Get going.' He's such a sweetheart, I can tell you.
"I squatted down and began duck walking like crazy around the edge of the basketball court. The stupid dribbling of the basketballs was giving me a headache. You ever have to do duck walks, Brent?"
"No," Brent answered.
"Well, it's a real pain. Within about two minutes the muscles in your legs hurt like hell. I started getting cramps in my thighs before I was even around the gym once. I started to get up from the crouching position slightly, but the gym teacher shouted me down again.
"By the time I was around the court three times, my legs were hurting really bad. I had to slow down a little to keep my balance, so he shouted at me, 'Speed it up, Hughes. Make it twenty laps.'
"It probably wasn't the brightest thing I've ever done, but I yelled back at him, 'Thank you, sir. I'd love to, sir. Screw you, sir.'
"Well, I looked up and the gym teacher was headed across the floor toward me and he wasn't looking any too pleased.
"I started to brace myself for what I figured was coming, and a flash of pain shot up my left leg to my hip. I mean, it really hurt. I yelled and tumbled over. The gym teacher had gotten to me by then but my leg hurt so bad I couldn't get up. I was pounding my head on the floor it hurt so much.
"So the guy grabbed me and pulled me up. He lifted me right off my feet. He was really ticked off, I can tell you that.
"He said, 'Just what did you say, Mr.Hughes? Repeat what you just said to me.'
"I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I mean, I was really hurting. The gym teacher dropped me and my feet landed on the floor and I collapsed again.
"Being a real bright guy, he finally noticed I was rolling around on the floor and I wasn't exactly laughing my head off. He asked me if I was hurt.
"I couldn't answer that question either since my vocal chords seemed all frozen up. He sent a kid to call the ambulance, I guess.
"My mother arrived just before the ambulance did. I had been moved to the office by then. I was surprised they had found her home when they called. I guess they hadn't told her what was wrong, because she came barreling in the door shrieking about what had I done this time.
"I tried not to show her that I was in pain, but I guess I couldn't hide it. She patted and cooed at me all the way to the hospital once she figured I wasn't in trouble again. She was gabbing away about how she was going to sue the school and all.
"I didn't say a word to her all the way there.
"So here I am. And it's been a long three months, I can tell you that."
"That's a shame, Kirk. It must have really hurt," Brent said.
"Oh, it hurt all right. The whole thing was a mess. But that's the story of my life. How about you, Brent? What do you do with yourself when you're not falling through trapdoors?"
"It sounds like I've got an easier time of things than you do, I guess. My parents are nice. I like them. I like to read and I paint a lot."
"Sounds exciting. As long as you don't watch soap operas, we'll get along just fine."
Jewel appeared at the doorway. "You want a Coke, Kirk?" she asked.
"Yeah. Unless you want to make it a gin and tonic."
"No deal, Kirk. You know the rules. No gin and tonics in the youth ward before noon. Brent, when that I.V. comes out, you can have something, too."
"Thanks."
"Right. One Coke coming up."
She turned and left.
"I'll tell you something, Brent. The hospital's no worse that Gable Prep and it's a hell of a lot better than home."
I like him, Brent thought. I feel sorry for him, in a way. It would be a shame to have parents you didn't like. But I like him, and I envy him. He's so honest and casual. He must make friends easily. I envy that. I hope we get along all right.
Brent closed his eyes and tried to shut out the growing pain again. They waited in silence for Jewel to return with the Coke.
Chapter Three
Amy had left the sun-room too. She watched Kirk's back as he walked into his room down the hallway. She turned left outside the sun-room door and wandered down the hallway. The pediatrics ward was in that direction.
Amy felt strange as she walked through Pediatrics. She had always liked little kids. They were honest and open. She had enjoyed the baby-sitting jobs she had had. But she hated to see children in the hospital. They missed their parents and cried a lot; and some of them were really sick, and that always depressed her too. She liked to see them anyway, and sometimes she would stop in and talk to any little kid who was lying in bed looking lonely.