To all Spanish speakers out there, it's been two years since I studied the language, so I'm sorry if things aren't exactly right. To non-speakers, I hope I added in enough of Luis's thoughts in English that you get the gist of the conversation.

AllForTheDucks99-I applaud your persistence with your review. I'm very happy that you like my story and you are absolutely correct, poor Luis.

nottshockeygirl99-I'm glad you like how I'm writing Luis. I hope I can make you like him more with this story.

Chapter 2: Adam, X-rays, and a Phone Call

Adam and I stopped in front of Mr. Hollis's office. He was locking the door. He carried a file in is hand. Guess that's all my paperwork.

"Let's go boys." We followed him out to the parking lot and over to the row of school vans. He unlocked the door and Adam and I climbed into the backseat. Then things got too quiet for me.

"Adam, hope you don't mind me asking, but why did you go off on Russ like that?"

He smiled. "Would you be hurt if you were replaced on the roster?"

I nodded my head. "That's what seems to be what's happening," I replied sadly.

"No it isn't, because when you get better, you can have your spot back. I've tried to come back after an injury, and Charlie had to give up his spot to let me play. Remember?"

"Okay, that was a dumb question. This next one is going to be better." He raised his eyebrows skeptically. "What was Charlie talking about when you started ordering everybody around? You seemed really out of character."

"Why thank you, I think. It was just that I'm usually the one that ends up hurt on the ice."

"I feel like I don't know the full story. I know about your wrist, but what else has happened?" He looked at me questioningly.

"You sure are filled with questions."

I shrugged. "I don't like silence and what else is there to do, except think about how much pain I'm in?"

"Good point. Since you asked, I am the team klutz, team cake-eater, and team Benedict Arnold rolled into one. My experiences with the Ducks could take this whole car ride plus waiting in the hospital waiting room to explain." Wow, I always pictured a quiet, go-with-the-flow preppy. He just gave himself too many titles.

"Fine. Please tell. We have exactly that much time."

Before we reached the clinic, I had been told all about Adam's pre-duck days when he was a Hawk and a bully towards the District Five team. Here I was thinking he had always been a Duck.

"Alright, we're here," announced Mr. Hollis. He hadn't said a word during the car ride.

We made our way inside. Adam and I took a seat while Mr. Hollis went up to the desk. He started filling out some forms. I turned to Adam.

"Alright, you've told me this shocking story of your past life. But now I need to know how you ended up with the Ducks. It just doesn't seem to fit."

He then explained about the district mix-up, his ex-best friends, the Ducks hating him, the championship, and his concussion. I have to admit, I don't know what I would do if I had to face my old team, and I left on good terms with those guys.

Dang, I need to give Adam some more credit. Actually, I'm shocked to hear him so talkative. Some of us have debated who's the quietest Duck, Ken or Adam. Then Ken will overhear us, says we're all idiots that just don't listen, while Adam just grins and shrugs us off. So Adam wins every time. I guess with all the loud mouths on the team, Adam does slink into the background a lot.

"Luis Mendoza? Come with me please," a cheery nurse in colorful scrubs told me. Mr. Hollis, Adam, and me followed her past the desk and into an examination room. I glanced around. The walls were covered with diagrams of muscles of the body and tables describing soft tissue injuries.

The nurse wrote something on her clipboard then set it in the holder on the door. "The doctor will be in shortly." Then she left. The room became too quiet for my liking. Adam picked up on this too. He began to tell me about how the ligaments in his wrist had shifted around when he was hit with that hockey stick.

The doctor finally came in twenty minutes later. "So what's wrong?" she said as she grabbed the clipboard left in the door. She looked at Adam. "Don't tell me you're already hurt, Adam?"

"No, ma'am. I'm here with Luis. He's the hurt one today. Luis, this is Dr. Lawrence, she's been my doctor through everything."

"That's right. Right from the time Adam was four and sprained his ankle trying to ice skate on carpet."

I laughed. "You really are injury prone."

"Yeah well, there's nothing I can do to change it."

"So what's wrong with you, Luis?"

"Well, I was at hockey practice and fell on my arm. It hurts, badly," I explained.

"Well let me take a look." She took hold of my arm and began to unwrap the ace bandage. "You play on the JV hockey team, right?" I nodded. "Well, I need to x-ray this. We'll be right back," she told Mr. Hollis.

It didn't take long to x-ray it. Not long after she sent me back to the exam room, Dr. Lawrence returned with the x-rays. I don't know much about this stuff, but I knew I shouldn't see a line across my bone. She took me into another room to get a cast and sling. Then she handed me a whole packet of info on taking care of my cast. She handed Mr. Hollis a prescription for a painkiller. I hope it works better than the cheap aspirin he gave me.

On the way out, Mr. Hollis told the desk to put it on the school's tab. He sounded like he was exiting a restaurant. We ran by the pharmacy to fill the prescription. Then, we were finally headed back to the school.

"You sure have a lot of school pride," Adam said, pointing to my cast.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"A red cast? School colors."

"Oh, red has always been my favorite color. This has nothing to do with school colors." I seriously had not considered that when I picked red. It really is my favorite color. I think it comes from the fact that one of the first English sayings I learned was "let's paint the town red."

"Really? I didn't know that."

"Alright, Banks, you need to get to your dorm. I'm sure you have some settling in to do still," Mr. Hollis interrupted as he stopped in front of our dorm building.

"Yes sir," Adam said.

"Mendoza, we need to check in with the dean."

Adam got out of the van. "Can you tell everybody what happened?" I asked.

"Sure. Be sure to let the Dean think you have school spirit."

We went to the dean's office. How come I always manage to wind up here not long after I get on campus?

"Hello Luis. How are you?" greeted Dean Buckley. My arm's in a sling. What kind of question is that?

"I'm fine except for the pain in my arm," I answered.

He looked at Mr. Hollis behind me. "What did the doctor say?"

"His arm is broken. Should be better in six to eight weeks." That's the most he's said all day.

"My goodness! That's over half the hockey season." Have I mentioned that Buckley likes to state the obvious?

"The boy understands that, Dean. Everything has been taken care of. I need to be going."

"Yes, of course." Mr. Hollis left. Dean Buckley motioned for me to sit down. "I must admit this is a new situation for me. I've never had an, um, out-of-state student injured like this before." Maybe that's because most students are from Edina and the other rich places in Minnesota. The six of us are just about the only out-of-state people I know.

"Have you called your parents?"

"No sir."

"I tried to get a hold of them earlier and had some trouble. I was wondering if we had the right number." He fidgeted.

He probably didn't get anyone who could speak English if my sister Maria wasn't home. My dad and siblings would have been at either work or school, and my mother runs a small daycare out of the house with Maria's help. However, my mother, despite living in America for nearly sixteen years, does not speak English well. Since we live in the Hispanic part of town, she never found the need to learn English. I didn't learn it until I was five, when I started kindergarten.

Dean Buckley handed me my file and pointed to my phone number.

"That's correct sir. My mother probably answered, and she can't speak too much English." I could tell that idea made him uncomfortable.

"Well, why don't you call them now. You can use my phone." He placed his desk phone in front of me. I dialed my parents. This should be interesting.

Surprisingly, a small, squeaky voice answered. Must be my youngest sister, Ana.

"Hola. ¿Dónde está Papá ?" I asked.

"¿Quién estás?" She is only four, she can't recognize my voice, I reminded myself.

"Luis," I answered slowly.

"¿Quién?" I know she's only four, but who else named Luis would call at 10:00 Miami time and ask for Papá?

"Tu hermano." Too bad she can't catch the sarcasm in there.

Then I heard muffled voices and a whiny "no" on the phone. I guess someone finally realized Ana had the phone. I hope they don't hang it up. I was grateful when Maria's voice filled my ear.

"¿Hola? ¿Cualquiera allí?"

"Sí, sí, Maria. I need to speak to Papá ."

"Luis? You're already homesick? I'm not sure if we miss you yet," she joked.

"Don't worry, I don't miss you yet either. I just got hurt in practice today, and I'm suppose to tell my parents about what happened. Can I talk to Papá now?" Buckley looked shocked at my use of English.

"Are you alright, Pato?" Ever since I got home from the Goodwill Games, my family has been calling me Pato, which means Duck. Sometimes I find it cute. Right now, the pain medications beginning to wear off. At least she didn't call me Patito (Duckling). My brothers do and they don't mean it as a term of endearment.

I took a deep breath. "I'm fine, Maria."

"You don't need an operation or money or anything do you?"

"No, no, no. I just broke my arm. I'll be fine in a few weeks."

"Are you sure? We didn't send you to Minnesota to die on us. We want our Pato back in one piece." I really didn't think anyone would care this much. Then again, Maria has really been like a second mother to me.

"I'm positive. I'll be back on the ice before you know it."

"Alright, here's Papá ."

"¿Hola?" I heard my father say. She hadn't told him it was me. Since I go to school so far away, my family has been speaking to me in English has much as possible. I don't know why. I haven't forgotten my native tongue.

"Hola Papá . It's me Luis."

"Luis! How are you?" he asked slowly. I really feel isolated from my family when he does this. His English isn't that much better than my mother's. Might as well play this game.

"I'm good, except I got hurt at practice today. I broke my left arm. It'll take six to eight weeks to heal."

"Do you need money for the doctor? I don't…" Trust him to bring up money. That made me shift uncomfortably under Buckley's gaze.

I know all Eden Hall students have insurance for while their on campus, but that seems like a bit much with the scholarship and all. Though, the school probably gets a discount because the head insurance guy most likely went here and has kids that did, are or will attend here. And my family definitely doesn't have money for doctor's bill, but that still doesn't mean I like the policy. Especially since the Dean's been listening intently trying to piece together the English parts of my conversation. I don't want to reveal my poorness to him.

"La compañía de seguros pagó la cuenta, Papá ."

"You sure? I don't want them pay for things I can pay…" See where I get my pride from. I'm not afraid to admit it.

"Sé, Papá. I just wanted to let you know what happened. Can you tell Mamá for me, por favor?"

"Sí, Luis. We miss you and love you."

"Love you too, Papá . Hasta luego."

"Adiós, Pato."

"Adiós." I hung up the phone. Nothing like a call home with Dean Buckley listening to brighten my mood. The dean seemed to be waiting for me to tell him what I had talked about.

"My parents know I broke my arm." What more did he want?

"They don't want you coming home then?"

"No, why?"

"Just making sure. I want the best for you." What is he hinting at? Might as well get right to the point.

"Sir, is my scholarship alright, even if I'm out for most of the season?"

"Of course it's alright. Why would you think that?"

On the streets, I learned that the easiest way to get rid of something was piece by piece. Revoking all our scholarships all at once didn't work, why not revoke one by one? This injury is the perfect place to start. Not to mention, I can tell he hated the fact that he couldn't talk to my parents in English.

"I don't know." I'm lying through my teeth. Oh well, let's move on. "My parents don't want me missing class, so can I get going? Coach Orion also wanted to see me when I got back, and I need to get to bed."

"Alright then. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask."

Yeah right. "Yes sir." I made my way over to the ice rink and knocked on Orion's office door.

"Come in." I went in. Orion stared at my cast.

"So it is broken?"

I nodded. "I'll be out for six to eight weeks."

"Alright," he sighed. "I still expect you to show up for practice to support your teammates. You need to stay up-to-date on what's going on with plays and such."

"Yes sir." Fun, fun.

"I want you to be ready to get back out on the ice as soon as the doctor clears you."

"Yes sir." Of course.

Somebody knocked. "That will be your roommate. He decided to workout for a little while since he missed practice. I had to let him in."

He looked at me as if hinting something. I gave him a confused look.

I had forgotten about my new roommate. This is fantastic. He's a suck-up.

"Coach Orion, you in there," he called. Wait, I know that voice!

"It's open," Coach Orion said. It's been a long day. I must be hearing things. I turned to look at my new roommate. My eyes bulged as I realized it was who I had heard.