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. I don't know... professional.That all changed on Tuesday. Wes had been brought home earlier. I saw them bring him past my room on a stretcher. Mostly plaster with just his head visible. The parade walked by as I lay in my bed. The ambulance guys with the stretcher and Wes, Sam, Mom, Doctor Bradley. A few minutes later they all left except Sam and my brother.It must have been 20 minutes later when I heard Wes calling out. Something like a moan but it sounded like he was trying to say something. Sam came running out of his room and down the stairs. The next thing I heard was the three of them running back up the stairs and into Wes' room.A couple of minutes later Dr. Bradley came out of his room and into mine. "I thought you might like to know what was going on with your brother." Thanks. I would." Well, he just made some kind of involuntary noise. He's still pretty much the same as he was in the hospital." It sounded like he was trying to talk." I'm not going to argue with you on. So he called Stacey. After her manicure she and John hooked up. This time they went to her house. Stacey lead John to her bedroom, past her parents with the facade of tutoring, which they already knew to look past. She bounced with every step, nearly pulling John to his knees with every lunge. Why is she so excited? John wondered. She slammed her door shut and yanked John toward her bed. Her bedroom floor was a collage of girlish panties, bras and shoes. An empty laundry basket was shunned into a corner, next to a basic algebra textbook. Probably from this year, John thought, Stacey wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the package. But her neatly sharpened and painted nails were rummaging through his shirt and he couldn’t think about anything but that. He thought of her pigtails, held up with purple rubber bands, how it looked down her bare back. How Haley’s hair looked. How she smelled that day. God, he thought, I can’t get into this. He focused back on Stacey, who was now fiddling with.
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