"You been here long?"

"Awhile," Kirk said. "And I don't think I'll get out until I'm eighty. They may have to move me to Geriatrics eventually."

"You know, you get around so well on those crutches, I'm surprised they haven't sent you home."

"Yeah, I guess. I don't know. My parents figure this is the best place for me. I have the feeling that the day I do get home they'll run me over with a car or something just so they can get me out of the house again. They're a real sweet pair, my parents."

Brent felt embarrassed by Kirk's talk. He'd never heard anyone talk about parents like that.

"How'd you slip your leg out in the first place?" Brent asked, trying to change the subject.

"It was a little over three months ago," Kirk said. "I was going to this school called Gable Prep. You know, a private school, all gray buildings and soccer fields. It was my third school since sixth grade. I get around in the educational circles, you might say. Anyway, Gable Prep's no worse than any of the others.

"So one day three months ago, I was sitting in English class. I was looking out the window as usual, trying not to pay too much attention to Mr.Davison, the teacher, who is a real horse's ass, I can tell you that. I don't even remember what the lesson was about. Something about lyric poetry or some other crap like that. I remember there was dirty slushy snow all over the ground.

"Anyway, at the end of the class, old man Davison passed out a test that we had taken on Huckleberry Finn the week before. I got an F on it. What the hell, I thought. It's no big deal. I'm not dumb, you understand, Brent. I'm what the guidance counselor calls an underachiever," Kirk said with a laugh.

"Anyway, the bell rang and I got up to leave and Mr.Davison tells me to wait a minute. I figured I was in for one of his heart-to-heart talks, and I wasn't wrong.