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.

Fighting was the barbaric, illegal way of settling problems. But with the painkillers leaving my body, I was finding barbarism more and more attractive because I just knew it had been Dewayne and the other knuckle draggers who beat Luigi up.

All night long, I rolled back and forth on the hard bed. Off and on when I managed to sleep, my dreams were haunted by images of the ceiling collapsing and the echoes of a woman’s voice crying for help.

No one was ever happier to see Dr. Tetanus when he made rounds at 0600 the next morning. A few papers were signed, then a wheelchair took me to the curb out front.

Minutes later, Abner backed his Range Rover slowly out of the parking space. Mom’s plan was for Abner to take me home, and Cedar would check in on me after her morning classes.

Abner had other ideas.

“You hungry?” he asked when I climbed into the front seat.

I groaned from the sore ribs. “My stomach’s kind of—“

“Because I was thinking of stopping by this diner near Nagswood. It’s a little out of the way, but they make one of the best western omelets in the county. Care to investigate?”

“Now that you mention it.” I shifted in the seat so my ribs were in the least painful position. “Some investigation would hit the spot.”

“That’s my boy,” Abner said and pulled onto the highway.

2

The house in Nagswood was a road kill skeleton that had been picked clean. The charred remnants of the frame stood on the corners of the building. The frame on the west side was slightly more intact, with eight feet of unburned clapboard siding joining two wall studs and a window header. The glass in the window was long gone, but the siding was still white. The rest of the structure had given way, collapsing in on itself, burying a home within it. Only red brick chimney remained standing.