“Can we do this later?” I said. “When you don’t sound like you’re talking through a can at the end of a string?”
“Even with bruised ribs, you’re still a smart aleck.”
“That’s a good sign, ain’t it?” Abner wore hiking sandals, canvas pants, and an angler’s vest over a T-shirt, and my hair looked more unkempt that normal. He shooed Mom away from the bed. “You’re talking to a grown man, not a child.”
She sat in a straight back chair next to the bed. “Dad, he’s my son.”
“He's also my grandson, which makes you my daughter.”
“He also did what he knew was wrong.” Lamar cut in. "He put himself and the other men in danger.”
Abner stared Lamar down. “I guess it depends on your interpretation.”
“Rules and regulations aren’t open to interpretation, Dr. Zickafoose.”
“Sure they are.”
“Not mine.”
I tried to whistle to shut them up, but I only managed to dribble spit down my gown. “What happened after I got hurt?”
“Tell him,” Abner said. “He’ll just keep asking.”
“The structure was a total loss,” Lamar said. “The house was in the Allegheny VFD’s district so we had containment duty. No other injuries were reported, only yours. I completed preliminary reports on the—”
“Anybody search the site for victims?”
“We did a visual search,” Lamar said. “The fire marshal is following up.”
“Just a visual? You only looked around?”
Lamar shook his head slowly, as if to say, will this boy ever get it through his thick skull? “The debris wasn’t stable enough to risk it.”
I wanted to know how Eugene and his boys had arrived so soon, but between the meds and Lamar’s bad mood, I decided not to press the question.
For now.
Mom pinched my chin and gave it a shake. “Let it go, Boonster. You’re hurt. Your body’s got a lot of mending to do, and it will happen faster if you set you mind at ease. Doctor’s orders.”
“Mind not calling me Boonster?”
“It’s better than Possum.” She straightened the blankets at the foot of the bed. “We do have a dilemma. You’ll need to spend the next couple of days resting. Lamar and I have work, so we need someone to watch over you.”
“A babysitter?”
“More like a day nurse.”
“I’ll be fine by myself.”
“Think again,” Mom said. “Once the meds wear off, you’ll be in some serious pain. We need someone to check your vitals, feed you, and control your dosages.”
“How about putting a cone of shame around my neck?”
“That can be arranged,” Mom said, “if you don’t stop chewing on me.”
“I’ll check in on him.” Cedar walked into the room. “Since Boone went to so much trouble to get out of a date with me.”
“Yeah!” I pumped a fist. Then I groaned. Sudden moments were a terrible idea. “Mom, this is Cedar—“
“No need to introduce her,” Mom said. “Her beagle’s one of my patients.” Mom exchanged a quick look with Lamar. “Thanks for the offer, Cedar, that’s very kind of you.”
“Dr. Zickafoose,” Lamar rose from his chair. “How about a Pepsi?”
“I’m a Co-Cola man myself.”
“I’m buying.”
“Let me get my coat.”
He grabbed his jacket, and they exited to make room for Cedar, who sat on the side of the bed.
“How did you know I was here?” I asked her.
“I didn’t. At first,” Cedar dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “I was already in the waiting room, and the nurses were talking about a cute but stupid firefighter who got hurt. I knew it had to be you.”
“Why were you in the waiting room?”
“Luigi’s in the hospital, too. He was attacked last night walking home.”
“Attacked? By who? When? After the hospital thing?”
“Slow down and I’ll tell you. He was beaten up by Nixon, Reagan, Bush, and Clinton.”
“Have you been dipping into my meds?”
“Hush a let me talk, okay?”
After he left us last night, she explained, Luigi had set off down Highway Twelve. A car came speeding around the bend. The driver flicked the lights from low beams to high. Luigi was blinded and stepped off the shoulder.
The driver slammed on the brakes. Luigi thought they were stopping to help. Then he saw three doors open and four people piled out. They were carrying plastic baseball bats and wore Halloween masks with presidents’ faces.
“Look boys,” Richard Nixon said. “The pork chop fell down and can’t get up. Stupid Mexican.”
“I am Japanese,” Luigi said.
“It don’t make a rat’s ass,” Ronald Reagan said. “All y’all look alike to us.”
Reagan took the first swing, a wild strike that Luigi was able to block with his backpack. His only hope was to fend them off long enough for another car to come by. But the punks attacked all at once.
Luigi fought them off as long as he could. It was not long enough, and they left him bleeding on the side of the road. A few minutes later, a passing driver found him and took him to the emergency room.
Cedar was crying again. Mom passed tissues to her. She dabbed away the tears and then blew her nose.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
“Bruises, mostly. He's got a goose egg the size of a tennis ball behind his ear. On that thick boney part.”
“The mastoid process,” Mom and I said in unison.
Cedar smiled. “That’s what I get for talking to a family of bone hunters. But the doctors say he’s going to be okay. They’re keeping him for observation for a few more hours. Truthfully, he’s doing better than the host family. They feel awful about calling Luigi’s parents in Osaka. Hello, Mrs. Hasagawa, your son got beaten up by a bunch of Presidents. I couldn’t do it.”
“Did they call the cops? Does he know who did it?”
“Luigi just gave the sheriff a statement. He didn’t see anything. It was dark, and their masks covered their faces. He only remembered that one of them was short.”
I sat up. “How short?”
Cedar shrugged. “I don’t think he had a meter stick on him. It was dark? His ankle was twisted?”
“How about the car? Did he get the make and model? The license plate? Even if he caught a partial number, it would help.”
“It was dark. His ankle was twisted. Were you not listening?”
Mom put her arm around Cedar’s shoulder. “No, he was not listening. He's as bad as my daddy. Always trying to fix things, always wanting to be the hero.”
"There had to be witnesses," I said. "Or tire tracks left beside the road."
“I don’t think he’s listening to you, either,” Cedar said.
“Let me put it in terms that you understand, Daniel Boone Childress.” Mom tucked the covers under my chin. “You will let the sheriff investigate Luigi’s assault. You will leave Luigi alone about it. You will not harangue him for information. You may be his friend, but only to give emotional support. You will stay at home to recuperate. Do you understand?”
“Huh?”
Mom waved a hand across my face. “Earth to Boone. Did you hear a word I said?”
“No haranguing and no fun.”
“Providing emotional support can be fun,” Cedar said.
“Not as much fun as haranguing.”
Mom began an explanation of why I would be a greater help to Luigi as a friend, but I was already tuned out, planning my escape.
THURSDAY
1
A hospital was a lousy place to sleep when you were so sore your bones were vibrating, and the only thing you wanted to do was drive over to the Loach’s house and drag Dewayne out of his bed and kick his ass for attacking a Japanese kid who wasn’t bothering anybody.