Chapter 2

I opened my eyes.

They hurt, my eyeballs, stinging.

I closed them again.

'Where am I?' is such a cliche, but sometimes it fit the situation.

Let's review. I was in bed, but it wasn't my bed. It didn't feel right. Besides, the ceiling was green. Puke green. Who would paint their ceiling puke green? It was hard to concentrate.

My shoulder itched.

I decided that was more important than where I was. I lifted my hand. It felt funny and I couldn't wiggle my fingers. I reached up to scratch my shoulder...

"Oh, God!" I moaned as pain shot through me.

"Tony are you okay?" The voice of an angel. Tami's voice.

"Not sure. What year is it?"

"What year?"

"Are you my wife?"

"Tony, we're fourteen."

"There are states where that is legal."

"He's okay," said another voice. I decided that it was my maternal unit, code-named Mom.

I decided to try opening my eyes again.

I opened them just a little, and they still burned. I closed them and blinked hard, trying to liquefy them. No, not liquify; moisten. Why was it so hard to think?

I opened my eyes again. They still stinged. Stanged. Stang. Stung. They stung, but not as much. I kept them open. Same puke green ceiling. I looked around. I was in a hospital room. I should have known. Only hospitals and prisons use colors like that. Mom was standing on one side of my bed and Tami on the other.

"What happened?"

"Do you remember the fire?" Mom asked.

The fire. The fire! "It was hot."

"Those are some good drugs," Tami murmured, earning her a dark look from Mom.

Drugs! No wonder my brain was fuzzy. I don't even like taking aspirin.

"You got some really bad burns on your hands, and your right shoulder. You're in the hospital."

Oh yeah. I remembered burning my hands. It hurt, but I didn't have time to think about it then. I lifted my hands up and looked at them. They were wrapped in gauze and tape. No wonder I couldn't wiggle my fingers.

I didn't remember burning my shoulder, but I was pretty busy at the time. Good thing it was my shoulder, not something important like my dick. I just use my shoulder to... I use my shoulder to throw! Football! Baseball! What if I couldn't play anymore?

Tami smiled. "You're thinking about sports aren't you?" she accused. "You're thinking about whether you can throw a stupid football."

The mind reading thing again. I was getting used to it. "I was thinking about baseball too."

"Don't panic. You can still be the star of the team. The burns are super... superfac... super-something."

"Superficial," Mom supplied. "They may hurt like hell, but there's no serious damage."