#3: The Cast

He swore he wouldn't be like the rest of them.

3rd grade, Mark Thomson: he fell of the swing and the ambulance had to drive out onto the playground(!) to take him to the hospital. When he came back to class, broken collarbone and all, he was the center of attention. No one had known pain and suffering like Mark, and he had all the signatures to prove it.

5th grade, Greg Mitchell: he broke his arm falling off the monkey bars. He had the entire class sign his cast in a huge orgy of megalomania. His smug grin conveyed his pleasure with the surrounding attentions.

And now, it was him. Broken leg, wheelchair. Never to be the hypocrite, he wouldn't wallow in the glory of attention that follows grade school injury; he wouldn't let anyone push the chair; he wouldn't take a single signature. With bravery and nonchalance, he would set the new standard for being a grown-up about things.

Wheeling down the hall to his class, he almost ran over Caroline Gail. He was met with a flinch, then a comforting half-smile filled with heartfelt compassion.

"Oh, John," she sighed. "We all heard." She swung her backpack around and reached into it. "Can I be the first?"

The protest couldn't reach his lips before the capital C was inscribed.

There would be others, he finally admitted. But for a few moments, her red name shined out from the white cast. Maybe he could use a push after all.


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