Chapter 18

Thursday, I got to school late, which meant I would get to miss Coach Bryant’s class. It also meant I would miss math, which I really couldn’t afford to do; but today was a follow up on my foot.

The Doctor had decided to just put me in the boot, with hopes that it would mend without another cast, which would have left me more immobile for longer. I’d made Mom promise to get me back to school in time for lunch, which she found weird. I didn’t mention that the only reason I wanted to be back was to see Rhonda, but I’m sure she figured it out, anyway.

We didn’t have a regular doctor, since we really couldn’t afford it. Health care was a luxury poor people didn’t have. We usually just hoped nothing bad happened and went without things like checkups.

Mrs. Philips had promised to cover my medical expenses, since I had gotten hurt helping Sam, and she’d meant it. She’d paid for not only the hospital, but also got me an appointment with their Doctor, which in a small town like this was basically the only Doctor.

“Charlie, good to see you again,” Doctor Halcott said when he walked in. “How’s the foot.”

“It’s fine, just a pain in the ass to move around with this thing.”

“Charlie! Language!” Mom said, shooting me a look to make sure I knew to mind my manners.

“It’s fine, Mrs. Nelson,” the Doctor said, chuckling. “Just teen boys being boys. I had a boy his age at one time. I tell you, I wish mine had been half as polite as your son has been. Well, let’s take a look here and see how it’s coming.”

He took the boot off and unwrapped the bandage around the foot. I’d made sure to wash it regularly, since the boot made my leg and foot sweat like crazy. I could only imagine the smell if I hadn’t. I’d also changed out the bandage several times, because it had absorbed a lot of sweat and dirt and got rank after a week. I’d planned on just washing them, because ACE bandages could be pricy, but Mrs. Philips had given me a bunch when she found out.

Even with all that, the boot itself was starting to stink. You couldn’t really smell it when it was on, but when you took it off, a definite funk filled the air. Thankfully, everyone politely ignored it.

He poked and pulled on the leg, gently at first, then a little more firmly. It was a little tender but didn’t hurt like it did on that first day. I hadn’t really noticed the pain going down till now. After the first few days, I’d adjusted to the being careful with my foot and stopped banging it on things, so other than having a bulky weight strapped around it, I hadn’t really thought about it much.

“This is looking pretty good,” he said. “Everything seems to be healing nicely, and if you keep being careful, you should be able to stop wearing this by the end of next month.”

“Do we need to take any x-rays or anything to make sure?” Mom asked.

The Doctor probably thought she was cautious, but I heard the worry in Mom’s voice. She was still on the fence about Mrs. Philips paying for my Doctor’s visits, and I’d bet she was worried about the costs of something like that.

He looked at Mom and said, “No, I think we should be fine. If he starts exhibiting any pain when walking or standing, then we’ll take some more images and look to see if the fracture is starting to get worse,” Turning back to me, he added, “I know boys can sometimes be hesitant to tell us if they’re in pain, but it’s important you tell us if it hurts, okay?”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious, now. If you try and hide it hurting from your mother, you could make everything worse, and still have to get a cast. I know you don’t like wearing this thing and want to be able to lose it completely, but re-fracturing it or expanding the break after going a month wearing it would be worse, since you’d then have to get a cast anyways.”

“I promise I’ll tell you if it hurts. Except for the first few days, where I hit it against a few things, since I wasn’t used to it, it hasn’t been that bad. Honestly, I don’t even think about it much.”

“Good. Good. Well, I think that about covers it. We’ll make an appointment near the end of October to take one last look at taking this boot off for good.”

“Great,” I said, with actual enthusiasm.

We made the appointment and headed back to the car, so Mom could take me to school and then go in to work.

The combination of seeing an end in sight for getting the boot off my foot, and Rhonda being my girlfriend, was enough to make the week fly by. It was capped off with my expanded set on Saturday. I’d worked several of my lunch friends’ suggestions into the new, expanded setlist, which we worked all week to get ready.

Willie had talked to the regulars who stopped by throughout the week, and word had gotten out about the format change. Crowds for the first hour this week were even bigger than last week, and it wasn’t just kids from my school. I saw a lot of faces of people that looked to be college age in the audience. I also noticed many of the faces that I’d started recognizing as regulars missing from the audience.

When it was time for me to stop and Willie to take over with the normal music is when things got different. Normally, we took our break and then came back out and started playing right away. This time we had to wait for the audience to settle down, since a lot of the new people got up and left, which made room for the missing regulars who all started to show up at about the same time.

I thought Willie and Chef might be annoyed, since the whole thing was a lot more chaotic than normal, but they weren’t, although for different reasons. Willie waved me off and said that it was only because this was the first week. He said that people would get used to the new format and work it out among themselves.

Chef was just happy because the plan worked exactly the way he’d hoped it would. Normally, he’d get the music time audience who would come in on time and just stay for the two hours. This time we turned over about a third of the tables, which meant not only a larger audience for the first half, but a third again the size since they left and new people came in. Since there was a cover for people who weren’t eating, many of those people ordered drinks and food, which helped his bottom line. When we finished for the night, Chef said this was probably the single best day they’d had, outside of a couple of holidays.

Rhonda stayed for both parts, sitting as close to the stage as she could get. We even managed to find some time alone around the side of the building before Hanna took us both home, which was starting to become a pattern for us.

It ended up being a fantastic end-of-the-week.

Rhonda and I had started holding hands as we walked from English to lunch. We’d made it through eating with her friends and telling them that we were now together. Camille did her best to stir the pot, making several cutting remarks, but Rhonda seemed to ignore her. I think partly it was because word of my playing on Saturday was getting out, and the rest of her friends seemed to think my being a musician was still enough to make up for being poor, at least where school standing goes. For whatever reason, it made me good enough for Rhonda to date without getting crap from her friends.

That attitude didn’t seem universal, however. We were just getting to the cafeteria when Aaron came around a corner, stopping directly in our path.

A teacher was in the hall not far behind us, so he knew he couldn’t actually do anything other than glare. There was no point getting into it with him, so I started to pull Rhonda around him when he noticed us holding hands.

“Shit, look at this,” Aaron said to the minion he had with him. “Girls must be desperate around here if they end up with this faggot. Hey, you know if you want a real man, I’d be happy to help you out.”

I didn’t take the bait. He was looking to pick a fight, and I knew it. I squeezed Rhonda’s hand tighter and dodged around him.

“Just ignore him,” I said in a whisper.

The two idiots laughed together as they walked away from us. Several people in the hallway were looking at us, but I ignored them too. I felt Rhonda relax slightly and she gave me a shy smile, before letting go of my hand.

I knew she hated being called out in public and was very concerned with how others saw her, so I didn’t press it. She’d been popular in middle school and did alright in the lower class social circles. As with most schools, she wasn’t on upper-classmen’s radar at all, but she wanted to be, since that would instantly boost her standing with her peers. While I didn’t care about that, I wanted her happy, so if she needed to have a little space to deal with someone like Aaron, it was the least I could do, even if her reacting to him exactly like he wanted stung a little.

Wednesday, Rhonda and I were at lunch with Hanna and the rest, having worked out a rotation of where we sat each day for lunch. Hanna and Rhonda’s sister found our antics funny, while Rhonda’s friends seemed almost offended that she’d agree to sit with ‘those people,’ as Camille put it. Rhonda was clearly bothered by this, and I almost caved and agreed to just keep sitting with her friends.

The only thing that kept me from giving in was seeing that Rhonda was actually happier and more engaged when we weren’t sitting with them. It was so obvious that she watched every word she said around them, to keep the status she seemed to find so important. I couldn’t understand why Rhonda would choose that over being actually happy, but if I had started lecturing her on why she should do what I think was right instead, I’d have been no better than Camille. Still, seeing that she seemed actually happier when we were away from her normal group is what kept me from giving in.

The other thing was, I really needed help with math, and it wasn’t like I could ask them for help. Jordan and Payton were both pretty good at math and patient enough to explain things to me.

“I still don’t get it,” I said, head in my hands. “Why can you just move the letter from here to here?”

“Because that’s how it works. You have to get everything to balance out to solve for x, and you’re not just moving it. You have to subtract here if you want to add there, for instance.”

“But whhhyyy?”

I managed to channel my whine into an eye roll and annoyance, but only barely.

“Let’s start over, if you...”

She was interrupted when Megan came walking up as fast as the lunch monitors would allow and slid into her seat.

“Hanna, have you checked social media today?”

“No, but I don’t use it much.”

“Umm, there’s a thing that just went up on Widget.”

“What does it say?”

Megan suddenly seemed unsure of herself. It was obvious whatever it was wasn’t good, and that she didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news.

“Just tell her,” I said.

“It’s from an account called Hanna’s Diary, and it’s very clearly about you. They tagged like half the school, in a series of posts, so everyone’s seeing it.”

“What does it say?”

“It’s written like it’s you writing in a diary, and it talks about ... umm ... how badly you want to sleep with a bunch of different people.”

“So someone made an account to trash me, probably Karen Brooks. That bitch seriously has it in for me.”

“It doesn’t make you mad?” Rhonda asked, genuinely surprised.

“At Karen making a stalker account about me, no. It’s desperate and sad.”

“That isn’t all it said,” Megan said, still sounding worried.

“Fine, what other juvenile bullshit did she write?”