LUCK OF THE PARTRIDGE, PART 3
"You'd better answer that letter, Danny," Punky was saying as they headed for the park. Danny carried his skateboard, and Punky walked beside him, his young face serious.
"I dunno…personally, I think it's all a coincidence, all these things happening. I mean, yeah, Keith got hurt playing football, but Keith could manage to get hurt opening the refrigerator. He's kinda klutzy. Remember that time we were playing street hockey and he drove up in his car? The puck landed by the car door and when he got out, he stepped on it and landed on his rear in the driveway in a puddle of oil, and the sprinkler was on…" Danny grinned, recalling the scene. "I didn't know Keith knew those kind of words."
"Yeah, he was pretty mad," Punky smiled. "He ripped his best pair of jeans and sprained his arm at the same time."
"Besides, I don't think he got hurt too bad this time. He said so himself. Probably hurt his ego more than his body."
"Okay, but what about Laurie, and Chris and Tracy?"
"All coincidences, Punk. Look, nothing's happened to Mom, or even to Mr. Kincaid. Or me!"
"There's still time," Punky said ominously.
Danny shook his head, tossing the skateboard down and getting on it.
"What are you doing? Are you crazy?" Punky cried.
"I'm proving to you that the whole thing's just a big laugh, that's what. Now, how long have I owned this skateboard?"
Punky sighed. "Three years."
"And in those three years, Punky, have you -ever seen me fall off of it, or get hurt with it in any way?"
"No," Punky said, "But there's always a first time."
"Says you!" Danny grinned, pushing off.
Punky sighed, watching as Danny expertly guided the skateboard down the sidewalk. He was a good three hundred feet down the road in no time and Punky had to hurry his step to catch up with him.
"Okay, so you proved your point," Punky called to him.
Danny turned. "What?" he could barely hear Punky over the clatter of the wheels.
It was then that the skateboard hit a break in the sidewalk and flipped up. Danny went one way and the board went the other.
"Ow!" Danny yelped, landing on his back on the cement sidewalk. At least the skateboard had the good sense to fall onto the soft grass of Mrs. Monahan's yard.
Punky ran to him, now. "Are you okay?"
Danny sat up, his face as red as his hair. "Yeah…" he grumbled. He looked up at his friend. "Don't say a word," he said between his teeth.
"Your elbow's bleeding," Punky pointed out. He never was one to take a threat.
Danny checked it out. Sure enough, his left elbow was scraped and emitting a dark red substance.
"Now, will you answer that letter?" Punky asked. "Before someone else gets it?"
Danny sighed, leaning back on his good elbow on the warm sidewalk.
===
Keith wasn't feeling quite right. He was so weak. It took him a long time to get up the strength to do very simple things, like brush his hair or get a shirt from the closet. He knew it was from the rough-housing in the park, but he still didn't dare tell Shirley. She hadn't wanted him to go in the first place. Football had always been a bane of hers, which was why none of her sons ever tried out for the teams at school. She simply would not have it. Keith knew he was too light to play in a real game, anyway, but it would have been nice to be able to say he went out for football, and Danny, well, he wasn't sports minded at all, so it never really bothered him.
He glanced at the clock. Time for rehearsal, he noted. There was no getting around this. No Keith, no rehearsal, it was an unwritten law. Now to just get downstairs and out to the garage without getting winded. Man, he felt a hundred years old!
So he pulled himself up and dragged himself out of the room, trying to muster up some modicum of energy. Look alive, Partridge, or it'll be the bench for the rest of the season, if not your life!
The pain really didn't begin until he was in the garage. He was the first one there, so he relaxed a little, flopping down onto the piano bench for a quick breather before anyone else came in. At first it was a slight pain, more of a twinge, and he tensed, rubbing his left side with the palm of his hand. This had better not keep up, he thought. It hadn't hurt before, why now?
Another twinge made him wince just as Laurie entered the garage. She apparently didn't notice, because she just went over to her organ as usual.
"Nobody else is here, yet?" she asked, glancing at her watch.
Keith shook his head, swallowing and turning away from her as she pulled out her bench and sat down. He waited for another one, but thankfully it didn't come. Relaxing again, he pushed himself up and walked over, picking up his guitar.
As he fiddled with it, he felt another one, just a little sharper than the last one, and he turned his back to her, pulling a face. The guitar clunked, and Laurie looked up.
"Out of tune a little, isn't it?"
Keith swallowed again, waiting until his voice was steady before answering. "Yeah, I guess it is." He closed his eyes for a second, then grabbed the amplifier cord and plugged it in.
He sat down on the stool and began strumming the instrument lightly, waiting for the rest of the family and another painful surprise.
Shirley led the others in, along with Reuben, who took a seat on a nearby trunk.
"Looks like we're a bit late, kids," Shirley said gaily, taking her place at the piano.
Danny, Chris and Tracy each took their familiar places and Keith took a deep breath. "Okay, let's go over "Brown Eyes," first. And, uh, don't worry if I stop singing for a second or two…I just want to check out the harmony." That was good, he thought. Cover your behind, now!
Shirley took his comment as a bit odd, looking over at Laurie, who shrugged as Keith began his count.
"One, two, one, two three," he recited as he'd done so many times before, and Shirley began the song with the piano solo echoing around them.
Keith came in on cue, his soft voice drifting above the music. He got to the line, "Brown eyes, you're beautiful, and this song's for you," when a sharp stab in his side caused him to stop singing. He sucked in a sharp breath, hoping no one would notice the abruptness and swallowed hard, coming back in hard with, "And I know what I feel, and I know that it's real," and kept on unbothered until the song faded to an end. If anyone had any qualms, they didn't express them, and he blew out a big breath, thankful, for once, for the silence.
"Well?" Laurie finally asked.
"Well, what?"
"How was the harmony? Did we pass the white glove test?"
He smiled. "Yeah, you sounded great."
"You're not going to be doing that to every song we do, are you, Keith?" Shirley asked.
"I don't know, why?"
"It's hard to keep up to where we're supposed to be without the lead there," she answered.
"Yeah, and it sounds funny," Chris added.
He sighed. "Okay, okay. I promise not to do it too much."
"Whatever gave you the idea to do it in the first place?" Shirley wanted to know.
He shrugged. Suddenly, all these questions! "I don't know. Like I said, I wanted to check out the harmony. Is that so hard to believe?"
"Well, yes, seeing as you've never done it to us before," Laurie said.
"I said I wouldn't do it again, and I won't!" Another pain hit and he winced.
"Keith!" Shirley sat forward, her face concerned.
"I'm okay," he swallowed. Think, Partridge, think. He put a hand to his throat. "I…I think I may be coming down with something. My throat feels kind of scratchy."
Danny looked nervously around the room. Yeah, right, Keith, he thought. They're going to believe that one.
Reuben looked especially worried. "Oh, no…not right before a performance! The show is tomorrow! Don't you have some…pills or something you can take?"
Danny's jaw dropped. They fell for it!
"Reuben's right, honey. Go inside and gargle with some warm salt water. Now, before it gets any worse." Shirley ordered firmly.
Grateful for an out, Keith nodded, going out the door.
As Keith exited, Danny reached up, his hand at his own throat. "You know, my throat's a little scratchy, too. Probably from all that fresh air you made me get this morning, Mom. I think I'll go gargle, too."
He quickly put his guitar down and hurried for the door. It closed behind him, and Shirley and Laurie looked at one another.
"Those two are up to something," Laurie said.
"I think you're right, but I don't think I want to know. I'm sure we'll find out soon enough." Shirley shook her head.
Talk about Mother's Intuition!
===
Keith was in the kitchen when Danny entered the back door. To the red-head's surprise, his brother was leaning over the table, his face scrunched in pain, one hand on his stomach, the other on the table.
"You okay?" Danny went to his side.
Keith looked up, or rather down. "What are you doing in here?"
"Look, I didn't buy the sore throat excuse, only because I know better. Your stomach hurts, doesn't it?"
"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock." Keith breathed.
"You'd better go upstairs and lie down," Danny glanced behind him. "Hurry, before someone comes in."
Keith nodded wearily, knowing Danny was right. "Okay. Thanks, Danny." He gave Danny a squeeze on the shoulder, and moved off rather stiffly.
Now, Danny knew Keith really wasn't feeling well! He bit his lower lip, watching as his brother more or less limp to the staircase and pull himself up the stairs.
The back door opened and Shirley came in. "Where's Keith?"
"Uh…upstairs, gargling. He said he was gonna take a nap when he got through."
"Oh, a nap, hmmm? I think I'd best go check on him, make sure he used enough salt," Shirley started for the living room, but Danny stopped her.
"No, wait! He…really doesn't want to be bothered. You know how he is when he's got a cold coming on. He's really, really grumpy!"
Shirley put her hands on her hips. "All right, Danny Partridge, what is going on?"
"What…what do you mean?"
"I mean, what are you and Keith up to? Scratchy throats and all! Spill it!" Shirley glared him down.
"You really want to know?" Danny asked meekly.
"Everything!"
He sighed, looking ceilingward. "Sorry, Keith, but she has power to cut of my allowance," he muttered.
She waited, arms folded now.
"Okay, here goes. Keith got hurt playing football today and I was just covering for him."
Shirley's anger was quickly replaced by concern. "He got hurt? How?"
"A pretty rough tackle. His ribs hurt, I think. He keeps holding his stomach."
"Where is he?"
"Up in his room, lying down," Danny confessed again.
"I'd better look in on him. You, young man, will go back out in the garage and continue with rehearsal," She ordered sternly.
"Okay. I'm sorry I lied, Mom, but he…we didn't want you to worry."
She just shook her head, going into the living room.
===
Keith lay huddled on his bed, trying not to breathe too hard, because every breath hurt worse than the one before it. He was still fairly weak, and very sleepy.
There was a knock on the door. "Go away, Danny!" he called, still holding his middle.
The door opened, and he was surprised to see Shirley there instead.
"Mom!" he gulped.
He moved to sit up, but winced, and she put a hand on his shoulder. "Danny told me what happened at the park."
He sighed, shaking his head and falling back down on the pillow. "Little snitch."
"Oh, he wasn't very forthcoming. I had to beat it out of him." She smiled, sitting down on the bed beside him. "Keith, why didn't you just tell me you'd gotten hurt?"
"Because…because you're a woman."
"Pardon?" she asked, her eyebrows lifting.
"You just don't understand football."
"Oh," she smiled. "I understand that it's a dangerous sport, and if I had my choice, my boys wouldn't play it."
"See? No understanding at all." He looked up, frustrated, and she continued.
"I also understand that football is a part of a boy's life, and that I can't watch over you every minute, and that chances are, you will get hurt sometimes." She paused. "Danny said you got tackled."
"Yeah," Keith muttered. "Ralph forgot it was only flag football. His attention span is about the same as a dragonfly's or something."
"Did he hit you in the ribs?"
Keith nodded, reaching down and pulling up his shirt.
She gasped, seeing the huge purple area to the left of his navel. "Oh, Keith, that looks bad. I think we should take you to see Dr. Bentley!"
" Mom, please. It doesn't hurt all that much…it should go away in a day or two…"
"Keith, your ribs might be broken!"
"No, it doesn't feel like it. I've had a few broken ribs in my day, and this doesn't even come close. It's just a bruise, Mom, honest."
She saw the sincerity in his eyes, and after a thought, she gave in. "All right. We'll give it two days, and if it's not any better, you are going to the doctor!"
He looked relieved. "Okay. Two days."
She glanced at her watch. "One day, 23 hours and fifty four seconds."
He grinned, wanting to laugh, and knowing he couldn't.
She leaned down, kissing his cheek. "I'll let you rest. We can rehearse again later, before Laurie leaves on her date."
"Thanks, Mom."
He watched her leave, then relaxed a little.
continued...
"You'd better answer that letter, Danny," Punky was saying as they headed for the park. Danny carried his skateboard, and Punky walked beside him, his young face serious.
"I dunno…personally, I think it's all a coincidence, all these things happening. I mean, yeah, Keith got hurt playing football, but Keith could manage to get hurt opening the refrigerator. He's kinda klutzy. Remember that time we were playing street hockey and he drove up in his car? The puck landed by the car door and when he got out, he stepped on it and landed on his rear in the driveway in a puddle of oil, and the sprinkler was on…" Danny grinned, recalling the scene. "I didn't know Keith knew those kind of words."
"Yeah, he was pretty mad," Punky smiled. "He ripped his best pair of jeans and sprained his arm at the same time."
"Besides, I don't think he got hurt too bad this time. He said so himself. Probably hurt his ego more than his body."
"Okay, but what about Laurie, and Chris and Tracy?"
"All coincidences, Punk. Look, nothing's happened to Mom, or even to Mr. Kincaid. Or me!"
"There's still time," Punky said ominously.
Danny shook his head, tossing the skateboard down and getting on it.
"What are you doing? Are you crazy?" Punky cried.
"I'm proving to you that the whole thing's just a big laugh, that's what. Now, how long have I owned this skateboard?"
Punky sighed. "Three years."
"And in those three years, Punky, have you -ever seen me fall off of it, or get hurt with it in any way?"
"No," Punky said, "But there's always a first time."
"Says you!" Danny grinned, pushing off.
Punky sighed, watching as Danny expertly guided the skateboard down the sidewalk. He was a good three hundred feet down the road in no time and Punky had to hurry his step to catch up with him.
"Okay, so you proved your point," Punky called to him.
Danny turned. "What?" he could barely hear Punky over the clatter of the wheels.
It was then that the skateboard hit a break in the sidewalk and flipped up. Danny went one way and the board went the other.
"Ow!" Danny yelped, landing on his back on the cement sidewalk. At least the skateboard had the good sense to fall onto the soft grass of Mrs. Monahan's yard.
Punky ran to him, now. "Are you okay?"
Danny sat up, his face as red as his hair. "Yeah…" he grumbled. He looked up at his friend. "Don't say a word," he said between his teeth.
"Your elbow's bleeding," Punky pointed out. He never was one to take a threat.
Danny checked it out. Sure enough, his left elbow was scraped and emitting a dark red substance.
"Now, will you answer that letter?" Punky asked. "Before someone else gets it?"
Danny sighed, leaning back on his good elbow on the warm sidewalk.
===
Keith wasn't feeling quite right. He was so weak. It took him a long time to get up the strength to do very simple things, like brush his hair or get a shirt from the closet. He knew it was from the rough-housing in the park, but he still didn't dare tell Shirley. She hadn't wanted him to go in the first place. Football had always been a bane of hers, which was why none of her sons ever tried out for the teams at school. She simply would not have it. Keith knew he was too light to play in a real game, anyway, but it would have been nice to be able to say he went out for football, and Danny, well, he wasn't sports minded at all, so it never really bothered him.
He glanced at the clock. Time for rehearsal, he noted. There was no getting around this. No Keith, no rehearsal, it was an unwritten law. Now to just get downstairs and out to the garage without getting winded. Man, he felt a hundred years old!
So he pulled himself up and dragged himself out of the room, trying to muster up some modicum of energy. Look alive, Partridge, or it'll be the bench for the rest of the season, if not your life!
The pain really didn't begin until he was in the garage. He was the first one there, so he relaxed a little, flopping down onto the piano bench for a quick breather before anyone else came in. At first it was a slight pain, more of a twinge, and he tensed, rubbing his left side with the palm of his hand. This had better not keep up, he thought. It hadn't hurt before, why now?
Another twinge made him wince just as Laurie entered the garage. She apparently didn't notice, because she just went over to her organ as usual.
"Nobody else is here, yet?" she asked, glancing at her watch.
Keith shook his head, swallowing and turning away from her as she pulled out her bench and sat down. He waited for another one, but thankfully it didn't come. Relaxing again, he pushed himself up and walked over, picking up his guitar.
As he fiddled with it, he felt another one, just a little sharper than the last one, and he turned his back to her, pulling a face. The guitar clunked, and Laurie looked up.
"Out of tune a little, isn't it?"
Keith swallowed again, waiting until his voice was steady before answering. "Yeah, I guess it is." He closed his eyes for a second, then grabbed the amplifier cord and plugged it in.
He sat down on the stool and began strumming the instrument lightly, waiting for the rest of the family and another painful surprise.
Shirley led the others in, along with Reuben, who took a seat on a nearby trunk.
"Looks like we're a bit late, kids," Shirley said gaily, taking her place at the piano.
Danny, Chris and Tracy each took their familiar places and Keith took a deep breath. "Okay, let's go over "Brown Eyes," first. And, uh, don't worry if I stop singing for a second or two…I just want to check out the harmony." That was good, he thought. Cover your behind, now!
Shirley took his comment as a bit odd, looking over at Laurie, who shrugged as Keith began his count.
"One, two, one, two three," he recited as he'd done so many times before, and Shirley began the song with the piano solo echoing around them.
Keith came in on cue, his soft voice drifting above the music. He got to the line, "Brown eyes, you're beautiful, and this song's for you," when a sharp stab in his side caused him to stop singing. He sucked in a sharp breath, hoping no one would notice the abruptness and swallowed hard, coming back in hard with, "And I know what I feel, and I know that it's real," and kept on unbothered until the song faded to an end. If anyone had any qualms, they didn't express them, and he blew out a big breath, thankful, for once, for the silence.
"Well?" Laurie finally asked.
"Well, what?"
"How was the harmony? Did we pass the white glove test?"
He smiled. "Yeah, you sounded great."
"You're not going to be doing that to every song we do, are you, Keith?" Shirley asked.
"I don't know, why?"
"It's hard to keep up to where we're supposed to be without the lead there," she answered.
"Yeah, and it sounds funny," Chris added.
He sighed. "Okay, okay. I promise not to do it too much."
"Whatever gave you the idea to do it in the first place?" Shirley wanted to know.
He shrugged. Suddenly, all these questions! "I don't know. Like I said, I wanted to check out the harmony. Is that so hard to believe?"
"Well, yes, seeing as you've never done it to us before," Laurie said.
"I said I wouldn't do it again, and I won't!" Another pain hit and he winced.
"Keith!" Shirley sat forward, her face concerned.
"I'm okay," he swallowed. Think, Partridge, think. He put a hand to his throat. "I…I think I may be coming down with something. My throat feels kind of scratchy."
Danny looked nervously around the room. Yeah, right, Keith, he thought. They're going to believe that one.
Reuben looked especially worried. "Oh, no…not right before a performance! The show is tomorrow! Don't you have some…pills or something you can take?"
Danny's jaw dropped. They fell for it!
"Reuben's right, honey. Go inside and gargle with some warm salt water. Now, before it gets any worse." Shirley ordered firmly.
Grateful for an out, Keith nodded, going out the door.
As Keith exited, Danny reached up, his hand at his own throat. "You know, my throat's a little scratchy, too. Probably from all that fresh air you made me get this morning, Mom. I think I'll go gargle, too."
He quickly put his guitar down and hurried for the door. It closed behind him, and Shirley and Laurie looked at one another.
"Those two are up to something," Laurie said.
"I think you're right, but I don't think I want to know. I'm sure we'll find out soon enough." Shirley shook her head.
Talk about Mother's Intuition!
===
Keith was in the kitchen when Danny entered the back door. To the red-head's surprise, his brother was leaning over the table, his face scrunched in pain, one hand on his stomach, the other on the table.
"You okay?" Danny went to his side.
Keith looked up, or rather down. "What are you doing in here?"
"Look, I didn't buy the sore throat excuse, only because I know better. Your stomach hurts, doesn't it?"
"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock." Keith breathed.
"You'd better go upstairs and lie down," Danny glanced behind him. "Hurry, before someone comes in."
Keith nodded wearily, knowing Danny was right. "Okay. Thanks, Danny." He gave Danny a squeeze on the shoulder, and moved off rather stiffly.
Now, Danny knew Keith really wasn't feeling well! He bit his lower lip, watching as his brother more or less limp to the staircase and pull himself up the stairs.
The back door opened and Shirley came in. "Where's Keith?"
"Uh…upstairs, gargling. He said he was gonna take a nap when he got through."
"Oh, a nap, hmmm? I think I'd best go check on him, make sure he used enough salt," Shirley started for the living room, but Danny stopped her.
"No, wait! He…really doesn't want to be bothered. You know how he is when he's got a cold coming on. He's really, really grumpy!"
Shirley put her hands on her hips. "All right, Danny Partridge, what is going on?"
"What…what do you mean?"
"I mean, what are you and Keith up to? Scratchy throats and all! Spill it!" Shirley glared him down.
"You really want to know?" Danny asked meekly.
"Everything!"
He sighed, looking ceilingward. "Sorry, Keith, but she has power to cut of my allowance," he muttered.
She waited, arms folded now.
"Okay, here goes. Keith got hurt playing football today and I was just covering for him."
Shirley's anger was quickly replaced by concern. "He got hurt? How?"
"A pretty rough tackle. His ribs hurt, I think. He keeps holding his stomach."
"Where is he?"
"Up in his room, lying down," Danny confessed again.
"I'd better look in on him. You, young man, will go back out in the garage and continue with rehearsal," She ordered sternly.
"Okay. I'm sorry I lied, Mom, but he…we didn't want you to worry."
She just shook her head, going into the living room.
===
Keith lay huddled on his bed, trying not to breathe too hard, because every breath hurt worse than the one before it. He was still fairly weak, and very sleepy.
There was a knock on the door. "Go away, Danny!" he called, still holding his middle.
The door opened, and he was surprised to see Shirley there instead.
"Mom!" he gulped.
He moved to sit up, but winced, and she put a hand on his shoulder. "Danny told me what happened at the park."
He sighed, shaking his head and falling back down on the pillow. "Little snitch."
"Oh, he wasn't very forthcoming. I had to beat it out of him." She smiled, sitting down on the bed beside him. "Keith, why didn't you just tell me you'd gotten hurt?"
"Because…because you're a woman."
"Pardon?" she asked, her eyebrows lifting.
"You just don't understand football."
"Oh," she smiled. "I understand that it's a dangerous sport, and if I had my choice, my boys wouldn't play it."
"See? No understanding at all." He looked up, frustrated, and she continued.
"I also understand that football is a part of a boy's life, and that I can't watch over you every minute, and that chances are, you will get hurt sometimes." She paused. "Danny said you got tackled."
"Yeah," Keith muttered. "Ralph forgot it was only flag football. His attention span is about the same as a dragonfly's or something."
"Did he hit you in the ribs?"
Keith nodded, reaching down and pulling up his shirt.
She gasped, seeing the huge purple area to the left of his navel. "Oh, Keith, that looks bad. I think we should take you to see Dr. Bentley!"
" Mom, please. It doesn't hurt all that much…it should go away in a day or two…"
"Keith, your ribs might be broken!"
"No, it doesn't feel like it. I've had a few broken ribs in my day, and this doesn't even come close. It's just a bruise, Mom, honest."
She saw the sincerity in his eyes, and after a thought, she gave in. "All right. We'll give it two days, and if it's not any better, you are going to the doctor!"
He looked relieved. "Okay. Two days."
She glanced at her watch. "One day, 23 hours and fifty four seconds."
He grinned, wanting to laugh, and knowing he couldn't.
She leaned down, kissing his cheek. "I'll let you rest. We can rehearse again later, before Laurie leaves on her date."
"Thanks, Mom."
He watched her leave, then relaxed a little.
continued...