Essentially, everyone calmed down as far as asking questions of Phineas. His stories grew wilder as the day went on. I was given a pass that allowed me to carry his books to all his classes for him.
He, of course, was eating up all of the attention he received.
The following day was Tuesday. I avoided the topic of skating at all costs. I wasn't about to send him into a pity party, even if it would be a private one.
That afternoon, I walked him home, carrying many more of his books than he actually needed.
I bade him farewell and continued on to my house. About halfway, I felt a little trickle of something under my nose and wiped it away. It gave me a chance to smell the scent of school that still lingered on my hand.
It always brought me back: the rush, the vibe, the language of a bunch of us kids pushing around to get to the next class. I knew that someday I would miss it when I had lost it.
Around five
"preguntas" of my Spanish homework, my phone rang. I sighed, as I
thought to myself, Why do I have so many interruptions?
"Hello?"
I answered, quite irritated.
"Gene?" Finny demanded on the other end. His voice sounded so urgent that I snapped to attention. "Gene, you've got to come over here! And hurry!"
"I'm comin'," I assured him, as I hung up the phone. I raced toward his house, my mind concocting horrible images of what awaited me.
I only hoped I wouldn't be too late.