“Yeah... probably,” Dr. Angie said. “But... well... I never saw him again. Though I’ve heard on the news- he got sick with AIDS and then Ebola.”

  “Poor boy.”

  “I told you I don’t feel bad for him. The kid got what he deserved.” Dr. Angie shrugged. “I take it you wouldn’t want that to happen to your daughter, right?”

  “Of course not.” Mom replied.

  “Then it’s settled. Next week, when you bring Gabby in for X-rays, she’ll also get her first set of vaccinations. I will need to give her a blood test today to determine what virus she's already been exposed to.... but that is a simple procedure," Mom grabbed her purse, “I take it you must leave now?"

  Mom nodded. “Gabby’s father will pick her up.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Dr. Angie said.

  I caught a glimpse of Mom sniffling - and then, without another word, she turned around and walked out of the room.

  Chapter 2

  I knew I’d see Mom later, but that didn’t keep me from missing her. Especially here - in this hospital, with this stranger. Sure, I knew he was my doctor now.... but that didn’t make me feel any more comfortable. “Dr. Angie...” I even stammered his name. “Is it true.... true that I was rescued?”

  “Yes, it’s true,” Dr. Angie replied. “It’s also true that you have a broken wrist, but I think... I believe you’re strong enough to handle it. You’re a good kid, you know?”

  I wasn’t so sure.

  You know, Gabby, you’re very lucky,” Dr. Angie said. “Things could have been much worse. I for one am glad they’re not.” Dr. Angie looked behind him at the metallic gray hospital doors. “You’ll be able to go home soon.”

  Not seeing much joy in going home, not with a cast on my arm anyway, I turned away from Dr. Angie staring out the window. Sure, the hospital was drab, but at least it matched the way I felt. I’d feel more out of place at home.

  “There are so many pepole who’d dream of being able to go home, Gabby,” Dr. Angie said. “Your locker then you know.”

  I didn’t respond.

  “Besides, I have a patient who needs your bed for tonight.”

  I sighed and deciding I really didn't have much choice, I turned back to Dr. Angie and told him I was ready to go home. But I didn't feel ready.... not even after Dr. Angie got me a wheelchair - and wheeled me through the hallways - letting me see nurses jump out of the way as he wheeled through - sometimes dragging an elderly patient. One of them screamed, “I’m too old for this!” I didn’t laugh.

  Dr. Angie suddenly came to a stop. Confused, I looked up, noticing a photo - a photo of a skier standing on top of a mountain- the words DETERMINATION in bright gold letters. I felt like bawling - but not prepared to disturb the other patients, I simply held my feelings in.

  Dr. Angie wheeled me into a big X-ray room. There was a chair in the middle, with a big robotic arm above it. Dr. Angie transferred me to the chair and after placing a piece of dark film, removed my sling - making my cast feel 100 pounds heavier. He covered my chest with a thick vest, and then headed behind a shield, snapping a couple pictures.

  A few minutes later, he was finished. “Looks good, Gabby.” He returned, put my sling back on, and helped me back into the wheelchair. As he wheeled me again through the hospital halls, I thought he was taking me back to the bedroom.

  But he didn’t. Instead, he wheeled me into another room. The room contained a single table, topped with a thin flimsy white sheet - standing in the middle of the room. To one side of it, cabinets and counters stood against the wall, and to the other side contained chairs.... and behind the table - was a standard size window showing the light dusting of snow.

  Dr. Angie helped me onto the table and then rummaging through the cabinets, pulled out a cast care pamphlet, a deflated ‘get well’ balloon and a small bag with the hospital's logo on which was simply the name of our small town - Minnesota Falls plus the bare word Hospital.

  Minnesota Falls was a small town just about 15 minutes from the border between Canda and USA and had once been an abandoned settlement. Now it was open to guests, but there weren’t many people here. It was one of the quietest places in the planet, and I honestly hadn’t liked it very much.

  I honestly wished my parents would have chosen Minneapolis. But alas, they picked Minnesota Falls. And now I was sitting here watching Dr. Angie throw the cast care pamphlet and deflated ‘get well balloon into the Minnesota Falls Hospital bag before hanging it on my wheelchair and digging back into the cabinets. This time he pulled out a needle and several vials, some disinfectant, and a bit of cotton gauze. After disinfecting the crease under my left elbow, Dr. Angie poked a hole in it with the needle. The resulting pain reminded me of a mosquito bite. They were part of the reason I preferred winter over summer.

  Dr. Angie quickly filled up the vials with blood from my elbow, and then pulled the needle out. He quickly bandaged the wound with a piece of cotton and a bandage taped over it. "That's it?" I stared at the pinprick cut...

  “Bones heal on their own, Gabby.” Dr. Angie transferred me to the wheelchair. “Casts just serve to protect them.”

  “Like a shield?”

  “Not exactly.” Dr. Angie wheeled me out of the room. “More like a bandage.”

  As Dr. Angie wheeled through the hallways and into the elevator, I couldn't help but let my eyes glance to the cut on my arm. I almost didn't realize that Dr. Angie had brought me downstairs to the lobby.... until I saw Dad - stomping through the hospital's automatic front doors. "Oh.... you must be Mr. Myers...”

  Dad tried to wrench the wheelchair out of his hands, but Dr. Angie clenched onto them tightly, suggesting calmly that Dad goes get the car and return. Scowling, Dad turned around, stomping out of the hospital- if the hospital doors hadn’t been automatic, he’d probably have slammed them too. “What’s his problem?” I asked.

  Dr. Angie shrugged. "He keeps saying this is not an accident.... but I don't know what else it could be..."

  “Murder?”

  “Nah, too drastic.” Dr. Angie shook his head. “Least for a broken bone.”

  For a few moments, we sat in silence.... until Dad returned with the car, still looking angry. I couldn't believe it - how could he be so mad? Especially when it was more typical of my Mother to get angry with me.... not him.

  Covering my arm with a blanket, Dr. Angie wheeled me outside. Even though I’d seen a light dusting of snow earlier that day, the snow had stopped falling, and only a few clumps told me it was still winter. March 27th, 2107 now.

  How much more snow would we get before summer came - I didn’t know. March was always iffy in Minnesota - especially given we lived near water - but higher north...

  After transferring me to the back seat of Dad’s car, Dr. Angie buckled me in and covered my arm with the blanket. Then he closed the door- and knocked on Dad’s window. Dad rolled it down.

  “You’ll take good care of her, right, Johnny?”

  Dad scoffed. Dr. Angie handed him the bag.... and Dad almost slammed the window on Dr. Angie’s face. As soon as he’d closed the window, though, I heard the car engine revving and Dad sped out of the hospital - barreling onto the highway ramp.

  “Ouch! Dad!” The sharp turn Dad had done had created an unbearable force that shook my whole body, including my casted arm. It felt like my skin was banging against the outside of the cast - I wished Dad would slow down... But he didn’t...

  Instead, he sped up – almost like a punishment for me talking....... and the pain in my arm quickly raised in severity... Frightened and scared, I gasped for breath.

  “Shut up, Gabby,” Dad shrieked, “I’m trying to drive here. Can’t have you screaming and distracting me...”

  I nearly felt like crying again, especially given the discomfort in my arm. But I didn’t. Instead, I turned towards the window and tried to ignore the pain. But the pain only got worse- and more intense – that when dad turned onto the scenic road leading to our neighborhood,
I shut my eyes tight and didn’t open them.

  “Johnathan Edward Myers!”

  “I wasn’t speeding!” Dad pulled the car into the garage and parked it.

  “Oh, yeah?" Mom crossed her arms. "Officer Nicholas just called. Said he saw a reckless lawyer on the loose.”

  "I am not a reckless lawyer, Catherine Myers.” Dad climbed out of the car. “And don’t berate me for driving fast - we both know you're not so perfect either."

  “I never said I was perfect, Johnathan,” Mom said.

  "Of course not," Dad said, “you've got clients dealing with overprotective parents and then you come home and try to restrict Gabby's activities.... you’re just a hypocritical therapist."

  “Don’t slam the door, Johnathan.”

  Dad slammed it. "Johnathan,” Mom said, “my client is 30 years old and her parents are being extremely strict - Gabby is only 10 and I am only trying to do what’s best for her...”

  Grabbing an ice scraper, Dad started scraping the windshield - I could hear the friction the scraper created against the window - enough force to crack the ice. Shaking her head, Mom helped me out of the car and brought me inside to the house.

  “I’m really sorry, Gabby,” she said softly, “I’m really sorry you’re going through so much pain - I wish I could take it all away from you - but I can’t. You know that? Right?”

  I nodded. Mom gave me a gentle hug - a hug that made me feel numb. “Come on,” she said, “Let’s go upstairs.” I followed her upstairs, without a single word.

  Chapter 3

  Upstairs, Mom helped me in bed. As she pulled the covers up to my neck, tucking them underneath my cast, I sunk my head into the pillow. It felt strange lying in bed like this. Still, unmoving.... on my back.

  “Do you want a milkshake?”

  “Yes, I’d love one.” I looked down at my arm- my left arm- where Dr. Angie had put the band-aid on.

  “I could take that off now if you want.”

  "Sure,” I mumbled.

  “Do you want me to cover it again with a fresh one?”

  I shrugged. I really didn't care what Mom did. Taking off the band-aid and replacing it- it didn't really matter - it wouldn't do what I really wanted. Get skiing back. Nothing would.

  Mom pulled off the band-aid and got me a fresh one.... from my bedside drawer. "There," she said, “is that better?"

  I shrugged. “Oh, come on, Gabby," Mom said, “you've got to make choices."

  Yeah? How come I couldn’t choose not to go through this pain? That’s just it - choices are nothing but illusions. Brand name vs generic? You think it’s all you, but it’s simply the brand name packaging that draws you in... "Buy me some Tostitos, Mom.”

  "Tostitos? Yes… I – ”

  Dad barged into the room and I realized he'd heard us. “Junk food?” he said. “You guys talking about junk food?”

  I quickly tried to deny it... Dad had always had a strange attitude towards junk food.... not that it was completely prohibited, though ...

  "You know junk food's reserved for special occasions, don’t you?”

  The phrase ‘Special Occasion’ was a bit of an understatement. Junk food at our house was rarely provided - and when it was, Dad would usually make healthier versions - frozen yogurt instead of ice cream, fruit juice popsicles instead of ice cream bars.

  It was one of the reasons why I'd loved Kayla's hot chocolate so much.... sweet, chocolatey, made it feel like it was Christmas all over again.... the one day when Dad would buy me a big chocolate cake covered with green icing, the words Happy B-Day and Merry Christmas written in red.

  Yeah, my B-Day’s December 25. Christmas Day. You may think it’s the best day in the world, but honestly, it's the one reason I don't have two special days a year - like everybody else I knew - even Kayla Phipps had that privilege. "Being born on Christmas is very rare,” Mom would say when I complained, “you’re very lucky.”

  Lucky? Lucky to be born on Christmas. I didn't think so. Especially given this.... this broken wrist - this sitting in my bedroom - this inability. Double whammy. “I know it’s not Christmas, Johnathan,” Mom said, “but our daughter, Gabby, has been suffering through some pain lately, and I think it’s best that we help her deal with it.”

  Dad scoffed. “You’d like me to do the same to you, wouldn’t you?”

  After a curt remark of how bad it was to placate people with food, Dad left the room, and Mom quickly told me she’d have my rescuer get the milkshake and chips. Then she left the room, advising me to get some rest. But I couldn’t sleep.

  Instead, I lay there, almost completely still, turning my head only occasionally to look out the window. The late afternoon sky slowly gave its way to darkness and I looked at the alarm clock on my bed. 5:00 PM. I sighed. Why couldn’t it be July already? I turned back to the window and saw the ice outside had adopted a strange glow- taunting me by becoming darkness proof.

  Once I get better, I thought, I’ll shut you up. Somehow.

  Hearing the door opened, I turned my head. It was Mom.... she’d entered my room, bringing along a 10-year boy I'd never seen before. "Gabby, meet Stephen. Stephen Williams.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I gave Stephen my left hand and he rubbed his fingers all over it. Then he looked at me, gave me a charming smile, and winked. Green eyes. And black hair. “Does he talk much?”

  Mom shrugged. Great, I thought. This kid’s pretty much mute- only communicating by gestures, not speaking. The boy placed a wrapped gift box on my bed. I scowled.

  “I think he wants you to open it.” Mom said.

  I gave her a cold glare.

  “Gabby. Please. Be nice. He’s your guest.”

  I tried to unwarp the box, but I couldn’t do it. Mom had to pick it up, unwrap it and loosen the lid, and place it down back on the bed before I could peek inside. There were two things in there - one; a pamphlet with a list of rules that seemed fit for a 2-year-old - the other a small wooden bird. An immobile wooden bird.

  I suspect that if Mom hadn’t been around to keep an eye on me, I’d probably have thrown the bird right back at Stephen.... but she was around, so I bit my tongue and placed the bird on my bedside table. "Thanks, Stephen.”

  Stephen smiled and nodded, then he gently touched the bird and looked at Mom. I only felt even more insulted, though - it seemed like Stephen was telling Mom to keep me safe- like I was a little child, as useless as the bird who couldn't fly. And she accepted it.

  She gave Stephen a high five, and then, after putting my milkshake down, led Stephen out of the room. As soon as she'd disappeared, I’d grabbed the list of rules - security rules and skimmed them. There were many, but they all boiled down to one main rule.

  Safety is our number one priority.

  Every rule that had anything to do with my safety made me feel like that little immobile wooden bird. Useless, helpless - like a little baby. But the thing that worried me the most, however, wasn’t the bird.... or myself.... it was merely the fact that Stephen had given me the list in the first place. After all, if this had been nothing more than an accident.... why would Stephen have needed to give out a giant list of precautions?

  I wanted to ponder, think.... but it was getting late. I had more pressing matters to worry about- such as what was going to happen tomorrow.... at school.... and I wanted to be well rested. Yawning deeply, I turned my light back off and lay down in bed, trying once again to get some sleep. But I still found it difficult...it's hard to get comfortable when there’s a hunk of plaster on your arm.... and when I finally did manage to doze off... I was awakened.... yet again.

  But this time I didn’t know who’d awakened me. The room was dark, quiet, and seemed empty - aside from that fact that my closet door was open. While the dresser inside of it hadn't been fumbled with - what would my parents think if it had - the books on the bookshelf had been removed.

  And I knew I couldn’t have reached them.

  I opened my mouth to scream - but no sound came
out - (the intruder had covered it) Fearing that I’d met the person who'd attacked me at the construction site - I quickly began thrashing about.... the intruder quickly grabbed my other arm and sat on my legs...

  "Shh! You're gonna get us both in trouble!"

  I stopped thrashing. The intruder clicked on the light and I saw it was none other than Kayla. Kayla Phipps. Relieved, I tried to calm down my racing heart, tried to take deep breaths, but Kayla had frightened me.... almost beyond belief. “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” I asked.

  “Couldn’t,” Kayla muttered, “I wanted to surprise you.”

  Right. That made sense. Especially given she'd already accomplished it.... she’d surprised me so many times in the last few years. "You really like surprising people, don’t you?”

  “It’s one of my strongest passions,” Kayla replied.

  “Right.” Scanning my bedroom, the mess on the my bookshelf, and my open doorway, I quickly decided the last thing I wanted was for Kayla to wake up my parents. “You should probably leave now.”

  “But I just got here!”

  You think I don’t know that? “I don’t want my parents seeing you here, Kayla. They’d probably get mad.... you know.... for not taking me home...”

  "You do realize that party was for you, right?”

  “Of course, ... but...”

  "If I took you home and your parents prohibited you from attending that party, do you know what I’d have to do?”

  I didn’t answer. I was too busy thinking.... thinking of how my mother had pretty much ruined my life - making ski trophies feel like the only way to prove myself and be my own person. “Honestly, Gabby. I think you care ‘bout yourself way too much.”

  “This isn’t about me...”

  "Let me get this straight. You care about a trophy more than your friends?"

  “No... I –”

  “Then why the heck would you even think about leaving your own party. It was meant for you, a goodbye ceremony for you.”

  “You don’t understand, Kayla.”

  "Of course, I don't understand... You're one of the most popular people in school.... everybody wants you to come over to their house.... but you never go anywhere except your home and the ski lodge.... and you’ve stopped going to the library. What gives?”