"Why wouldn't he be able to play sports? Shouldn't it just go back into place? They should be able to fix it, right? If the bones are still there, then-"

"And if you keep talking about it around him," she broke in harshly, "you'll upset him! You have to be positive! Be optimistic! Don't talk about these kinds of things," she said, in a slower tone. "Talk about...other things. But, not sports, if you can avoid it. Talk about the normal things that you usually talk about. Oh-kay?"

I nodded, in solemn agreement, wiping a lingering tear from my face.

We arrived at the hospital much too early for my liking. I would have liked to have at least ten more minutes to think of how I would handle the situation. Before I was fully ready, I was staring down the door to his room. He was still in Room B14. Peach and Adora had gone home to rest, which meant Finny wasn't critical or anything. My mom waited for me in the waiting room, as she usually did. She didn't believe in visiting people in the hospital. She would allow me to, but thought superstitiously that it brought bad luck. To the invalid, or to herself, I don't know.

At any rate, Finny and I would be alone.

I creaked open the door, half-heartedly gazing around at the pictures on the walls inside the room. My eyes slowly trailed over to Phineas. He was propped against the back of the bed on a pillow, his leg resting in a cast that was hanging over the bed a little. His gaze turned to me, and he smiled. "Hi, Gene. What's up?"

I didn't know what to say at first. Was he for real? Was he really not mad at me? Maybe he just didn't remember. Or, maybe he had something more cynical in mind. Finally, I managed to say, "How are you feeling?"

He rolled his eyes, as if he had heard that question twenty times already that day, which he probably had. "Better than you, I'd think. You're as white as a ghost! You look like you've just seen one, too. What's the matter with you?"

His voice didn't sound pained, or stressed, or tired or anything of the sort. He sounded just like he always did: chipper, happy, energetic, like he could hop out of bed and do jumping jacks or something.

"Nothing," I answered after a pause. "Nothing's the matter. Why do you ask?"

"You look tired, is all," he told me, shrugging. "Hard day at school?"

Before I could answer, the door was opened and a doctor came in. "How are you doing, Phineas?" he asked, without looking up from a clipboard. "Has someone been in to see you today?"

"But, of course," Finny responded, in his charismatic way, as if he and the doctor were old college friends.

The doctor turned to me and shook my hand. "Hello, I'm Dr. Jones. Are you family?"

"No," I replied, "just a friend."

"Well, I may as well tell you this too," Dr. Jones said, offhandedly. "Finny is going to be wearing that cast for quite some time, and I don't want him straining it or moving around too much at all. You and every else are going to have to make sure you keep him as comfortable as possible. He can't be expected to be healed automatically, you know." He paused and gave me a serious look. "Until his leg is completely healed and out of that cast, you will have to take care of him." He nodded, wrote something more on his clipboard, and then he left the room.

I grew slightly paler. Did that doctor know what he was doing? Giving this opportunity to Finny was like telling him that he was going to have his own team of personal servants for six weeks. I could already see Finny's face lightening up and growing delighted.

"I'm sure he's not serious," I said, quickly.

Finny gave me an odd look. I could see the wheels in his head turning already. His face suddenly grew tight, and he wailed in pain, grasping at his leg. "OHHHHHHHHHHHHH! The sheer and utter PAAAAAIIIIN!"

Not knowing whether I bought his act or not, I rushed over. "What is it?" I cried.

"My LEEEEEEG, you moron, is in PAAAAAIIN!" he exclaimed, giving me a sideways glance.

"Do I need to call the nurse?" I shrieked, beginning to get a little worried. Finny did tend to get carried away at times, but my conscience could get carried away worse than him any day.

"NOO!" he burst out. "I-I mean," he corrected himself, "no, no, I'll be all right. I just..I just need..."

I leaned closer. "You need...?"

"Chocolate ice cream," he said, barely above a whisper.

I stared at him. "Goodbye, Finny. I'll see you at school in a week."

He shifted in bed. "Oh-kay. Good----OHHH-bye, Gene...don't-AAAAAHH-worry about me. I'll be just----EEEEE-fine..."

I quickly turned around. "Finny-I'm not sure if you're ready for me to leave you yet. I mean, the doctor did want me to take care of you until your leg was fully healed-"

"No," he argued, "go ahead...I'm sure I'll-----OOOOOH-manage all right..."

"That's it!" I declared. "I'm staying here with you and that's final. And, until your leg is out of that cast, I'll tend to your needs."

"When you say needs," he implied, "do you mean every whim and desire?"

I sighed. "Yes."

"Yay!" he cried in sheer happiness.

(What have I done?) I asked myself.