Soon, a nurse had calmed Finny. He was no longer hot, or cold, and his leg was feeling better thanks to a generous amount of painkillers.

"This wouldn't have happened," I said, matter-of-factly, "if you hadn't suddenly gotten a craving for ice cream."

"Oh, you know what? Fine," he spat, jokingly. "Deny me the one joy I might be able to take pleasure in. Refuse to give me the one thing I have left in life to look forward to..."

"Oh, please," I growled. "Painkillers make you cranky or something..."

"No, they make me horny, baby!" he cried, swinging a little surgical cap around on his finger.

I nearly fell over. Could there be a hidden meaning to what he had said? Wasn't he always saying suggestive and odd things like this...I couldn't remember.

I shrugged it off and sat down in a chair beside his bed. "Lobby channel, anyone?" I asked, casually.

"Yeah! Time to find me some hunnies!" he yelled, excitedly. "Say, Gene, if I see any, can I get you to go bring 'em up to my room? Huh?"

I laughed. "Sure."

Finny returned to school a week later. The doctor said that he would do better if he were able to exercise (both his body and his mind). Surprisingly, Phineas had no protests whatsoever. He seemed almost eager to go back to school and climb up the steep hill from the parking lot to the building. Of course, since he would no longer be parking in the parking lot (or anywhere else) it wouldn't be that much of a challenge.

Everyone at school was more than willing to have Finny back at school. Hardly anyone knew exactly his condition, and what they did know, they found out from either Brinker or from me. What they didn't know, they made up.

It didn't matter. I didn't care. I was just happy to know that Finny would be well enough to return and do normal things again. Maybe my guilt would be given a rest if he could act and function normally.

That morning, a Monday, my dad and I were going to pick him up to go to school. I was nervous when we pulled into his driveway. Instead of blowing the horn, my dad suggested that I go up to the door and see if he was ready.

I had barely gotten out of the car when the door opened and Finny hobbled out, waving goodbye to his mom.

I looked over at my dad, who shrugged. I left the door open, and climbed into the backseat of the car.

"Good morning, Mr. Forrester," Finny greeted, cheerfully. Sliding his crutches beside me in the backseat, he slowly slipped into the car, and shut the door. "How's it going?"

"Just fine," my dad replied, putting the car into reverse. "How's your leg?"

"Oh..." Finny seemed to be examining his bound leg. "I guess it's as good as it can be. This cast itches like crazy!" he complained.

"I heard that they do," Dad said, nonchalantly. "So, ready for school again?"

"What?" Finny wailed, awkwardly. "Is THAT where you're taking me? Oh, NOOO!"

I laughed. "Yes, you shall be a prisoner once again."

"Say it ain't so," he whined, then began to laugh himself. "I can't wait to see the look on Mr. Riddel's face when he sees that I can't run track anymore."

"Yeah, and I bet that you'll be grabbing everyone's attention for quite a while, huh?" I asked, snidely.

"But, of course," he responded, turning around and grinning at me.

Before anything else could be said, my dad pulled into the school parking lot, as close as he could get to the main entrance.

"Oh-kay, last stop, everybody off," he said, poorly imitating a conductor's voice. "I hope both of you will be all right..." He directed the last sentence toward Phineas.

Finny, not wanting to be underestimated, said, "Yeah, Gene. I mean, you can't live so recklessly, man."

I rolled my eyes, making him laugh in his upbeat, non-caring way. He slowly pushed himself out of the car, supported by holding onto it with both hands, as he stood up on one shaky leg. I quickly got out too, handing him his crutches and grabbing all of our books.

"Bye, Dad," I said, waving.

"See you this afternoon!" my dad exclaimed, driving away.

"You gonna make it?" I wondered, as Finny looked at something in the distance, his eyes looking weary.

"Well...that depends..." he muttered.

"On--?"

"If we can avoid that crazy girl over there," he sighed.

I looked and saw the one person I did not want to see. Amelia.