Date: Sun, 3 Apr 2016 10:50:30 -0400 From: Paul Knoke Subject: Installment Forty-Six of "The Father Contract" INSTALLMENT FORTY-SIX from THE FATHER CONTRACT by Arthur J. Arrington Edited Paul K. Scott Please consider a donation to Nifty so they will continue to publish our exciting story of little PJ Thorndyke! Chapter Eighty-Five: Two Types of Hurts Although surrounded by teammates celebrating their victory, PJ's only concern was for Erik. He turned to Brian and Phil. "We have to get Erik to the locker room. Don't let him put any weight on his knee. You guys get on one side and I'll get on the other, an' he can put his arms around us and sorta hop." But as they got ready to do this, help arrived. The Gordonsville spectators had left the stands to come celebrate with the team. Almost immediately, Bill and the other fathers joined them. Phil's dad picked him up and gave him a huge hug. "Son, you were terrific. I'm so proud of you!" "I scored a touchdown!" Phil happily exclaimed, hugging back. "Did you see me?" Brian's dad was beaming with pride. He knelt by his son, put an arm around him, and listened while Brian told him excitedly about his touchdown! Bill went straight to Eric. He knelt in front of him and asked anxiously, "Are you all right, Son? PJ, how bad is it? I've been sitting up there worrying this whole second half. I figured you'd come and tell me if he was really badly hurt!" "Coach says he's going to be all right," PJ said. "But it's his knee. It got hit on the side. I wannna get him to the locker room without him walking on it." "No problem." Bill proceeded to pick Erik up like a baby. "Dad!" Erik protested. "This is embarrassing. I'm OK. I can make it to the locker room." "Be quiet, Erik!" PJ ordered. "Don't listen to him, Bill. Don't put him down until we're in front of our lockers." Bill, despite his worry for his stepson, chuckled a little at this. "You're the boss, PJ. Come on, Son, let's go." "I've got your helmet," PJ assured his roommate. He led the way to the visiting locker room with Bill following, his stepson secure in his arms. "Geez, this is so embarrassing!" Erik complained again. But PJ noticed that he was resting his head on his stepdad's chest and hugging him around the neck. "At least it's not a home game, " PJ told him. "Where everyone could see you." He held the door so Bill could maneuver Erik through, and then pointed to their locker. After Bill put his son down carefully on a bench. PJ knelt and started unwrapping the knee. Bill glanced around. "Boy, their field is OK, but these facilities are sure old and cramped. How did you guys all fit in here?" "We had to double up," PJ told him. "Erik and I are both in this locker. But it's okay, we didn't bring much." He got the ace bandage off Erik's knee, discarded the used-up ice pack, and pushed his fingertips very carefully around the joint, probing gently. "Don't move anything yet, Roomie. Not until Coach looks at it again." He helped Erik get his jersey and shoulder pads off before starting the tricky job of removing his pants and hip pads without moving his leg. If being almost naked in front of his stepdad in just his white socks and jock bothered Erik, he didn't show it. What did irritate him, however, were PJ's orders to "keep still" every time he tried to help himself! "PJ, I'm okay. It's not that bad." But PJ refused to let him do a thing. "Just cut it out, Erik! Just let me help you. Haven't I let you help me a hundred times? Just hold still. I don't mind doing this and I don't want you taking any chances." Unhappy yet submitting to him, Erik grumbled, "PJ, I'm not completely helpless, you know! PJ arranged a towel over his friend's bare middle, then tenderly stroked the injured knee. "I'm sorry if I got you mad, Erik." "Aw, Geez . . . " Erik squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a moment and put his hand on top of his roommate's. "I'm not mad. Jesus, PJ, I just feel so stupid gettin' hurt like this . . ." Bill hugged his son's bare shoulders. "You're very lucky to have a friend like PJ, Son." "I know that," Erik quietly replied. Coach Lewis arrived, pushing past Brian, Phil, and the rest of the team who'd crowded around. Since there wasn't any table to put Erik on, Bill steadied him from behind while the coach got down on his own knees and carefully checked Erik's. Everyone nervously stood by watching, as he slowly bent his leg and then just as slowly straightened it again. Erik grimaced in pain but didn't utter a sound. Finally, Coach Lewis arose and said to Bill, "I'll have the doctor at the school look at it as soon as we get back. That was a close call. But I'm reasonably sure he's going to be okay" (PJ, Brian, and Phil looked at each other and grinned). PJ gave Erik an "OK" sign with a circled thumb and forefinger. "From up where I was sitting it looked deliberate," Bill said. His tone of voice was calm, although he clearly was angry. Coach Lewis sighed and nodded. "It looked that way to me, too. I talked to the officials about it and I'll make a full report to our athletic director. Bit by bit we're cracking down on this sort of thing in the League, but it's a fight. All I can tell you is that we're making progress." "That wouldn't have helped much if my boy had been permanently injured." "No argument," the young coach said. "I agree with you." Bill took a deep breath. "OK, I'm sorry, and I know this wasn't your fault. I just want Erik to be all right." "I do, too," Coach Lewis assured him. "I think he will be. And I'll call you personally tomorrow to let you know how he is." "Thanks," Bill said. He turned to Erik. "I'll get out of your way and let you get dressed, Son. I'll see you at the bus." He gave Erik's hair a fatherly ruffle and left. "Hold on, Erik," PJ said as his roommate started to get up. "You stay right there. Sit on him if he moves again, you guys." To Brian and Phil he added, "Let me get my equipment off and then we'll get him dressed. Don't put any weight on that knee until I say so," he sternly instructed his best friend. Erik smirked. He'd decided it was no use trying to overrule his new dictator of a doctor! Eventually, PJ and his two helpers got both themselves and Erik dressed. PJ made his roommate lean on him on one side, while Phil and Brian took the other, and Erik hopped carefully out to the bus where Bill and the other fathers were waiting for them. "PJ," Bill said, "I haven't congratulated you yet on what a fantastic game you had! I just couldn't believe how well you did!" PJ blushed and looked at his shoes. "The real heroes were Erik and Phil They won the game. And Brian with his great catches. All I did was run into people." Shaking his head, Bill gave PJ a little hug and insisted kindly, "Don't be over-modest. You did a wonderful job!" Phil's dad put a hand on PJ's shoulder. "You know what I told you last week," he said. "I know how much you've done for Phil, and I won't forget." "And I know how much you've done for Brian and how much he admires you," Brian's father added, patting PJ on the back. "I'm very glad you're his friend." "We're all looking forward to seeing Jack next week," Bill told him. "And I know you are, too. I know how much you've missed him. You tell him to come early so he can sit with us." Ah-oh! PJ spoke up quickly to nip this conversation in the bud. "I'll tell him, but I don't know if he will. He'll probably try not to be recognized. He might just come in quietly after the game starts and watch somewhere from behind the stands." Bill chuckled. "I guess I don't blame him. He must get tired of being mobbed everywhere he goes. You tell him we're all looking forward to seeing him at our Dinner. Boy, what a Series he had! It was incredible! I hope he talks about his MVP a little. Make sure you tell him I said 'Hi.' And we'll look for him next Saturday." "I'll tell him," PJ promised, relaxing as he saw that his covering lie had worked. Jack would be at the game all right, but it would be the Jack only he could see. Afterwards, they would miss Jack at the Dinner, but by then he would have gone to find him and be with him always. Nothing else would matter. He said goodbye to all three men and climbed on board the bus, heading back to the seats he liked to use. There, he sat down and looked away from the sidewalk side of the bus so he wouldn't see the other boys with their fathers. Eyes tightly closed, he covered his face with his hands. A tiny sound escaped from him, a soft bleat of hurt like the cry of a wounded animal. To get control of himself, for a few moments he put his head down on his knees before straightening up again. By the time his teammates started filing onto the bus, he was looking out the window at the buildings on the Barton quadrangle. Phil and Brian arrived and climbed into the seats behind PJ. "Man, what a game!" Brian exclaimed. "It was awesome our dads were here to see us. Especially yours, Phil! Man, it was so great that he got to see you play quarterback!" PJ turned to look at Phil over the seatback. "Buddy, you were just terrific today!" "Darn right he was!" Brian crowed. "That's my roomie! Yah' oughta see him in our scrimmages!" Grinning, he pointed at Phil. "Aw! He's gettin' all embarrassed. He's turnin' red!" Phil's face had indeed become bright red. With a mischievous giggle, Brian started to tickle him, but Phil pushed his hands away. He looked up, stared directly into PJ's eyes, and said in a serious tone, "I wouldn't have had the courage to do it without you." "No . . . " PJ started to say, trying to get words past a sudden lump in his throat. "No. I just . . . But Phil kept right on. "You told me Jack said to find courage. To stand up and not be afraid. An' I did, PJ. I did. I did it 'cause you showed me how. You an' Jack." Around them the bus was filling up with their noisy, excited teammates, all still laughing and chattering about the victory. Yet for just a few seconds, Phil, PJ, and Brian were only aware of each other. Brian stared at PJ, and as if seeking some kind of reassurance asked, "Jack is totally awesome, isn't he, PJ?" "Yes." PJ struggled to keep his voice from quavering. "Yes, Brian, he is." Bill came down the aisle, carrying Erik. "PJ, I know you'll take care of him for me." "I will," PJ promised. After they had Erik seated with plenty of room for his injured leg, Bill leaned down to say goodbye to him. "I was awfully proud of you today," he told his stepson. "You were terrific. And so brave. You know I just think the world of you." "I know, Dad." Erik leaned toward Bill and softly whispered something. Bill patted his shoulder. "Me too, Son. Take care of your leg now and don't forget to call me." "I will, Dad," Erik assured him. "And do what PJ tells you to do." There was a twinkle Bill's eyes as he added that. He ruffled his stepson's hair. "Goodbye, boys. We'll see you all next week." They all chorused goodbyes. After Bill waved one last time and walked off the bus. Erik sighed happily, relaxing in his seat. "Bill's the greatest," PJ said. "I sure think so." Erik turned to look at him and asked, "Bill is just as neat as Jack in his own way, isn't he, PJ?" "Absolutely. They're both just the best." Somehow PJ managed to keep his voice steady enough to answer. "Boy, we're really lucky, aren't we?" Erik said happily. "Yes Erik," PJ whispered, "We're lucky." Erik leaned forward to massage his right knee. "I've just gotta get this OK by next week!" "We'll do it," PJ told him. "I'll help you. You'll see." "We'll do it together, won't we PJ." "Together," PJ assured him. Later, when the bus was on the Interstate heading back to Gordonsville, Coach Lewis sent Matthew back with a request for PJ to come up front. He made room for the boy to sit beside him when he arrived. "You played hard today, didn't you," the young man said. PJ nodded. "Do you have any idea how many yards you gained?" Looking up, his face scrunched rather comically while he considered this, PJ finally admitted, "Not really." "Well, it was quite a lot." Coach Lewis showed him on the clipboard where Matthew had recorded the team stats. "You never ask me about things like that after the games, do you?" PJ squirmed around uncomfortably in his seat. He wished the coach would stop asking all these questions. "Uh, I guess not." "And the reason you don't ask me," his coach gently said, "is because you really don't care about those things, do you." PJ looked down at his hands, twisting them in his lap. "As long as we win the games. . . that's all . . ." "Why, PJ?" Coach Lewis asked him. "Why is winning the games so important?" "The Championship. . . " PJ whispered. "The Championship . . . I promised Erik." "For Erik. You want it for Erik. And today, when you let Phil carry the ball for that touchdown, you were letting him make up for that fumble, weren't you? And when you fixed it so Brian could catch that pass after the one he dropped in the end zone. That was to help him, too, wasn't it?" PJ just stared at his hands. "Talk to me, PJ," the coach begged. "I'm your coach and you know I like you. Why won't you trust me?" PJ glanced up at him "Their dads were at the game," he softly answered, as if this explained everything. Coach Lewis sighed. "You do all these things for the others. What is it that you want for yourself, PJ? What is it that you want to achieve? Isn't there anything that you want just especially for yourself?" "You have to find things of your own to do." The old lady in the gray room was talking to him . . . "Come on, PJ." Now it was the voice of his coach again. "There must be something that you want just for yourself." No, PJ thought. No . . . He shrugged and shook his head. The one thing that he wanted more than anything else, he was sure now he would never have. He didn't want to talk about it, either. His coach sighed again and rubbed his forehead. "PJ," he said, "do you believe that I like you and care a lot about you?" PJ stared up at him. "I know you do, Coach." "I'm going to say some things now, and I don't want you to take them the wrong way. I only want to help you." PJ kept looking at him. "I was very impressed with the things you told Phil right after he made his fumble. Do you remember what you told him? The things that Jack taught you about courage, and not giving up?" PJ nodded. He kept his eyes on his coach's. "Jack has taught you a lot of things, hasn't he, PJ?" PJ nodded again. "I'm sure you want him to be proud of you, and you do things to make him proud. Do you think he would be proud of what you did today?" PJ turned and looked straight ahead. "PJ," his coach said gently, "The boy who tried to tackle you. The one they had to take out of the game. They had to take him to the hospital. He was very badly hurt." PJ continued to stare straight ahead without speaking. "They may have to operate to remove one of his testicles," the coach continued, "and his thumb is badly dislocated. It may have to be operated on too. He was a wrestler, PJ, as well as a football player. He's going to miss the rest of the season this year. And he may never be able to wrestle again or play football. That's not too nice, is it." There were tears running down PJ's cheeks now. "He hurt my friend," PJ said in a small, tight voice. "He hurt Erik." Coach Lewis nodded sadly. "I know. I saw it." PJ went on, suddenly growing angry. "He laughed, Coach! An' then he was gonna hurt Phil." "I know. But PJ, is that the way Jack Canon taught you to play? Did he teach you to do what you did?" PJ began to quietly sob. Tears streamed down his face. He shook his head violently. "Don't t-tell him. Please Coach. Don't t-tell him what I did." The words came out between little hiccups. "I d-don't know whether he'd be mad or not. He always talks about sportsmanship, and that was a mean thing I did. B-But he talks about friendship and loyalty and sticking together too. So I couldn't help it. I just couldn't. Erik's my brother. He's my very best friend. I can't let people hurt him and get away with it! And they did, Coach! They hurt him!" Coach Lewis put an arm around PJ and held him close. The boy's shoulders heaved with more sobs as he muffled his crying by pressing his face against the coach's side. The man stroked PJ's back and head, trying to soothe him, but the boy only pressed more tightly against him and continued sobbing as though his heart were breaking. The coach began to get alarmed. "S-s-s-sh, PJ," he whispered over and over. "S-s-sh, it's all right. Everything's all right." He hugged the boy and rocked him a little. At last PJ began to calm down. Gradually his shoulders stopped heaving, and the muffled sobs of his crying diminished. The coach stroked him and continued to whisper softly until the boy finally relaxed. He lifted his head and slowly straightened back up in his seat. Coach Lewis tenderly wiped PJ's cheeks with his hand and smoothed his hair. "A little better now?" he whispered. PJ nestled and made a little hiccup. "Are you g-gonna tell J-Jack?" he stammered out anxiously, brushing at his eyes." Coach Lewis shook his head. "No, PJ, I'm not going to tell him. But you know, I think you should." And when you do, I'm willing to bet that Jack won't be mad. I think he'll understand." PJ nodded. "Jack understands everything." The young coach pulled PJ close again. "From now on," he said gently, "when things bother you in a game, just come and tell me, okay? I'm your coach. I take care of things like that. And I'm sort of like Jack. I always try to understand too. Okay?" PJ nestled in closer and put his small hand up to touch his coach's. The man hugged him. "PJ," he said softly. "I know there's something troubling you. I've seen it, ever since the season began, and lately it's been worse. What is it? Let me help you." PJ turned his head and pressed his face against his coach once more. He stayed like that for awhile and then gradually straightened up again. "I'm all right, Coach," he insisted. Coach Lewis looked at him, disappointed that PJ hadn't confided more in him. "I hope you are, PJ," he said, "but if not, please remember that I care for you a great deal and I'd like to help, OK?" PJ nodded "yes." "From here on out," the young coach added with a smile, "when you want to kill someone in a game, let me know so I can talk you out of it, all right?" PJ gave him a tiny little smile. "All right, Coach." "Make us all proud of you, PJ," Coach Lewis said. PJ turned and hugged his coach again, got up, and slowly walked down the dark aisle of the bus to his seat. Most of the boys were asleep. Behind Erik, Brian was slumped back with his eyes closed and Phil's head pillowed in his lap. His arm was thrown protectively over his roommate's shoulders. "Coach talked to you a long time," Erik whispered as PJ slipped into the seat beside him. "We had a long talk about the game." "Was he mad about that kid?" "Yeah. How's your knee?" "It aches." PJ leaned over and rested his head on Erik's shoulder. Very gently he put his hand on his friend's knee so he could rub it, pushing the cloth of Erik's pants around the joint and stroking his hand over the delicate bones underneath. "You're gonna be all right for the game next Saturday," PJ promised. "I'm gonna help you." "Thanks, PJ." His roommate didn't sound all that confident, though. "I hope I'll be all right. But what if I'm not? Right now it sure hurts." "We'll hope for the best," PJ said. He stroked and massaged Erik's knee for a long time. Eventually, he laid his head in his roommate's lap while he kept rubbing. Finally, he stopped as he began to get sleepy. "Don't let me have bad dreams, Erik," he begged in a high, soft voice. "I won't," Erik whispered. He stroked PJ's shoulder and put his arm over him. The ache in Erik's knee kept him awake as the bus made the rest of the trip back to Gordonsville. The entire way, he kept his arm around PJ and stroked his back soothingly because his friend kept moaning and crying out in his sleep. He couldn't help wondering if playing that football game, which had hurt him on the outside, hadn't hurt his roommate far worse on the inside. . . Chapter Eighty-Six: Sundry Preparations The following morning, PJ insisted that Erik get up early and accompany him to swim team practice. "Let's go, Erik," he told his roommate. "You're coming with us." He and Phil were both sitting on the edge of Erik's bed. "PJ, this is crazy," Erik sleepily protested. "I'm not on the team. Your coach isn't gonna want me in the way." "He won't mind. I'll talk to him. Phil and I aren't going unless you come, so let's go." Erik groaned, but he threw off his bed covers and sat up. PJ began to pull off his friend's pajamas. "Phil, get his clothes," he directed. "They're on that chair." He peeled off Erik's pajama top. "PJ, I can dress myself," Erik protested. "The doctor said I could walk on my leg as long as it's not too far." He stood up, flinched, and yelled "Ow!" as he put weight on his knee. Then he undid the drawstring around his waist and let his pajama pants slip to the floor. The knee was an ugly black and blue. "The less you do for now, the better," PJ firmly told him. He and Phil helped Erik dress, and PJ put Erik's arm around his shoulders. "PJ, I'm okay. You don't need to do this. However, he might as well have whistled in the wind. "Quit being stubborn," PJ ordered. "Let's go, Phil." With Phil's assistance, PJ got his roommate down the stairs and outside. Slowly, they made their way across the cold, dark Quad and into the lighted warmth of the Field House. "I think my knee is starting to loosen up, Erik said hopefully. With their help, he was able to go down the stairs to the locker room without too much trouble. Inside, PJ found his swim coach, Mr. Bernard, and explained the situation to him. "I've just got to get him ready for next Saturday, Coach," he pleaded. "Could you please help me? Can't we put him in one of the end lanes and let him do some kicking drills or something? You know, something that will strengthen his knee and help it get better?" "Sure we can." Coach Bernard ruffled PJ's hair. "You get him in a Speedo and I'll take care of him." Smiling happily, PJ ran to where Erik and Phil were sitting by the lockers. "It's all set," he told them. "Coach says he's gonna get you better, Erik. Come on! Hurry and get undressed." After PJ and Phil changed into their Speedo's, they helped Erik put on a tight blue-and-red brief that PJ got from his locker. "PJ, this is your good team suit!" Erik argued. He looked at PJ's. Not only was the material faded, but it was obviously too small for him. "Let me use that old one, PJ. I'm skinnier. You take this good one." PJ shook his head. He stroked his fingers over the worn Lycra of his practice brief. "No, Erik, I have to use this," he said. "It's the one Jack gave me. Remember?" "Geez, PJ. That's almost a year old. That suit looks like it's ready to fall apart. Shouldn't you get a new one?" PJ kept shaking his head. "Jack gave it to me." He looked past his friends with a blank expression and quietly added, "I won't have to wear it much longer. I gotta have it on when I go to find him. That'll be soon. " Erik was busy tying the waist string of the blue and red suit. "Find who?" he asked. PJ focused back on him. "Jack . . . " "Yeah!" Erik exclaimed, tucking the string neatly away. "Jack'll be here Saturday. I'm gonna tell him you need a new practice suit and I'll bet he buys you one!" PJ didn't reply. He helped Erik out to the pool deck, where Coach Bernard got him into the water with a kick board while PJ went to one of the middle lanes where the faster swimmers had already started working out. Yet he didn't get as much accomplished as he usually did because he was constantly stopping to be sure Erik was all right. And he was, for each time he looked over, he saw his roommate splashing away industriously on the kick board, or else doing some other drill the coach had given him. When the practice was over and the team was getting dressed, Erik sat on a bench in front of the lockers cautiously flexing his knee. "PJ, this is awesome! It feels a lot better!" "See? I told you." PJ grinned at him. Phil watched Erik trying out the joint and said, "My dad told me that swimming is good for lots of stuff. He says it's like doing physical therapy." "You're gonna come here with us every morning all next week," PJ told Erik. "Your knee is gonna improve lots. You'll see." "I'll come," Erik promised, and then stammered, "PJ . . . PJ, thanks." "Hey," PJ said with mock seriousness, "what are roommates for?" "Yeah . . ." The two friends looked fondly at each other. Then, to get past that moment of awkward embarrassment, Erik exclaimed, "Hey! You know, it's kinda fun coming here with you and Phil. But if I'm not there, who's gonna wake Brian up? You know he's going to oversleep for sure. It practically takes an earthquake to wake him in the morning. I always have to go into his room and dump him outta bed." Phil laughed. "Yeah, he's totally unconscious in the morning. We'll prob'ly have to run over and wake him before going to breakfast." Erik wrapped his knee in an Ace bandage that Coach Bernard had given him. "Bet you're right, Phil. Why don't you go over and check on him while PJ gets me to the Dining Hall. We'll wait for you guys over there." After Phil left, Erik put an arm around PJ's neck, and together they maneuvered out of the locker room and up the stairs. As they went outside and were standing on the steps of the Field House, Erik joked, "PJ, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship." "Here's looking at you, kid," PJ replied, laughing. "Watch these big steps now, Erik. There you go. And by the way, you're not nearly ugly enough to be a good Humphrey Bogart!" "Boy, PJ," Erik happily told him, "I'm feeling more and more confident about being OK to play against Franklyn! You and your swimming have made me a believer. I'm gonna follow your advice and keep my weight off this knee until you decide it's okay to walk. PJ, whatever you say goes. You've convinced me. I can't believe how much better this feels." It's gonna stiffen up again later," PJ warned. "Just stick with me. I'll get you around today. This afternoon, Coach Lewis can put you in the whirlpool." Later that morning, PJ asked Mr. Bingham if he and Erik could be excused from English class early. "I have to help Erik get to the doctor, and it takes us a while to get to the Admin Building because Erik has to go slow. It's just for this one time." The master smiled at him and told him to go ahead. As PJ was helping Erik negotiate the steps out of the classroom building, Erik looked around and whispered, "What's up, PJ? I don't have to see the doctor. He's already seen me." "I have to make a phone call to New York," PJ whispered back. "I want you to hear it." "Why, PJ?" Erik asked in bewilderment. "I want you to be a witness." They walked slowly along the sidewalk to the Administration Building where there was a pay phone booth in the lobby. "I really hate these things," PJ grumbled as he searched for change in his pocket. "Here, PJ." Erik handed him some quarters. "Thanks." PJ dropped in the change and dialed collect to Walter's office. When the operator asked him what name to use, he said, "PJ Thorndyke the Third." PJ heard Ms. Snyder answer. At first she seemed not to recognize the name when the operator told her who was calling. When she asked for it to be repeated, PJ yelled over the operator's voice, "Ms. Snyder, it's PJ!" "Very well, we'll accept," he heard the cool, precise voice say. "Hello, Ms. Snyder," PJ said into the phone. "Could I speak to Walter, please?" "One moment, PJ." There was a long delay while PJ listened to the usual Muzak. "They always do this," he told Erik. After a minute, Ms. Snyder came back on the line. "PJ," she said, "Walter's in a conference right now. He wants to know if I can help you." "Gee, Ms. Snyder," PJ responded politely, "I don't think so, and this is the only time I can call. Could you please ask him to give me just a minute? I just have one question to ask. I promise it will be short. It's really important. I had to cut a class to make this call." "Let me ask him, PJ." There was another delay. Finally, Walter's voice came on the line. His voice sounded cheerful. "Hi, PJ! How's football going? Say, how 'bout that Series! Wasn't Jack great? The Red Sox did it!" "I guess they're not sorry now they gave Jack his contract," PJ told him. "I would say not!" Walter said, chuckling.. "What can I do for you, PJ?" "Did you get my letter, Walter? About Billy?" "Sure, PJ. I got it. Are you positive you want to do this? I mean, perhaps we should give it some time. You might want to think about it. I don't know if I should let you go ahead with all these ideas you get." "Walter," PJ said patiently, "this is only the third thing I've ever asked you for, and it's for someone else, not for me. It's not a lot of money and I'm sure I want to do it." "Unh . . . okay." From his tone of voice, PJ could visualize the lawyer glancing at his watch, impatient to end the call. Well, all right PJ," Walter said breezily. "Let me work on it." "Walter, it's really, really important that you get it all set up before next Saturday." "Next Saturday!" Walter's voice sharpened. "That's only a week away, PJ. What's the hurry? I don't know if I can." "Please, Walter," PJ begged. "It's important! Pay yourself triple overtime or something, but won't you please do it for me?" "Well, all right." Walter sounded less than enthusiastic. "Let me see what I can do. I'll have to come out there to meet with the school attorney." "When?" PJ asked instantly. "Ah . . . well . . ." Walter hesitated. "Let's see . . . how about next Thursday? I'll call him and set it up." "I want to be at the meeting when you come." "All right, PJ. But it'll be boring. Just a lot of lawyer stuff." "I want to be there anyway," PJ insisted. "Okay, PJ. All right. I'll make sure they know." "Thanks, Walter." "See you Thursday, PJ. Goodbye." PJ hung up the phone with a sigh of relief. Erik, who had jammed into the booth with PJ to overhear the conversation, immediately asked, "What was that all about?" "Sit down over here for a minute." PJ helped his roommate to a bench by a table that held a display of Gordonsville school brochures. "I'm trying to fix it so Billy can come to Gordonsville starting next year when he's ten. . . ." PJ explained the three scholarships he was setting up. "I get it." Erik nodded in agreement when PJ finished. "Gordonsville gets scholarships for kids who have, like, an emergency in their family or something, and in return they admit Billy and tell his parents it's a scholarship so they don't know where the money's coming from." He looked at PJ admiringly. "That's sharp, PJ. And it's real nice, too." "You have to swear to keep the secret, Erik." Erik nodded again. "Yeah, sure. I mean, don't worry. I swear. I see how important it is. His parents would never let you do it if they ever knew. I wish there was a way I could help, too." "There is, Erik." PJ looked at his friend very intently. "Erik . . . Eric, if anything happens to me, I want you to swear to me that you'll make sure Billy gets to come here and the school gets the scholarships. Check on Walter for me if I can't." Erik looked at PJ in astonishment. "What are you talking about, PJ? Nothing's gonna happen to you." PJ shrugged. "I know. But promise me anyway, Erik. Please? It will make me feel better." "All right." Erik sat straight up, put a hand over his heart, and solemnly declared, "I promise." PJ took a deep breath and let it out. "OK," he said. "I know I can trust you, Roomie." His roommate eyed him fondly and shook his head. "It's a good thing I know you as well as I do, PJ. Anybody else would think you were really weird." "I just have to be sure Billy's going to be all right." "Billy's going to be fine," Erik assured him. "And you and I and Phil and Brian are all going to be here to help him. We'll have a great time." "Right." PJ turned his head to look out a window. Finally he got up. "OK, let's get you to the Dining Hall for lunch." That afternoon at football practice, and again on Saturday morning, PJ made sure that Coach Lewis put Erik in the whirlpool. He also noted with interest that both Phil and Brian practiced with the starters instead of the scrubs. And neither one played in the scrub scrimmage games that weekend. "Looks like they've been promoted," he told Erik after Saturday's practice. He, Phil, and Brian were all in the locker room standing by the whirlpool, waiting for Erik to finish soaking his knee. PJ had to shout over the noise of the machine. Erik grinned. "Yeah," he said to Phil and Brian. Like PJ, he had to shout to be heard. "You two are in the big time now." Both younger boys grinned back at him. "PJ," Erik yelled, "I can't believe how boring this is. I've been sitting here for over an hour!" "Tell me about it," PJ laughed. "You're almost there. Just a couple a' minutes more. Remember what you used to tell me about being patient." "If I'd known then that I was going to have to do this, I would've tried to negotiate," Erik complained. "C'mon, Doctor PJ, what's another minute?" "Stay in there 'til you've done all of it," PJ firmly declared." No negotiating!" In return, Erik made a face at him and muttered something under his breath. Once Erik was out of the whirlpool, they all escorted him to lunch. Then PJ and Brian went to get Billy. "We'll meet you at the base of the Hill," PJ told Erik. "Phil, don't let him put any weight on that knee." "Yes, Sir!" Phil saluted, which made them all laugh. PJ instantly got the point: he'd been acting like a drill sergeant! Soon afterwards, Billy knew that something was wrong when he saw that only PJ and Brian had come to get him. He tugged on PJ's hand impatiently after having it explained to him that Erik had hurt his knee. "Come on, PJ. Let's go find him. I'll cheer him up just like I did you when you hurt your leg. You got better quick and so will Erik." They had a beautiful afternoon for their Top Floor Gang practice. The early November weather was crisp and cool. Up on the Hill, the woods were aflame with fall color under a deep blue autumn sky. When the boys ran their plays, their sneakers crackled in the dry leaves that had fallen on the ground. Erik sat and watched, shouting occasional instructions and Billy sat with him for part of the time, keeping him company just as he had done weeks earlier for PJ. During one of their breaks, Erik looked around and said, "Boy, it's nice today. I hope it's this good next week for Homecoming." "What happens if it rains or something?" Phil asked. "Unless there's thunder and lightning or a hurricane, we play the game," Erik informed him, "right in the mud." "Cool!" Billy exclaimed. Phil's expression indicated that he wasn't so sure. PJ chuckled. "Don't worry, Phil. Mostly at this time of year Gordonsville gets nice weather." "Gee, I hope so," the younger boy said. "I don't think mud's all that great." "You know," Erik said slowly, "tomorrow will be our last Top Floor Gang practice for this year." "The season has sure gone fast." Brian looked around wistfully. "It seems like just yesterday that we came back to school and went to that first practice." Erik nodded. "Football season always seems too short." "Remember how scared I was that first time?" Phil asked Erik. "I would've never have gone if you and PJ hadn't taken me." "You never gotta be scared when you're with Erik an' PJ," Billy told him. Erik hugged the little boy's shoulders. "Thanks, Little Brother." PJ made sure he had Phil's and Brian's attention and said to them, "Remember that next year. Remember how it was for you when you see some new kid in the House that might want to play football but is too scared to go. Help him out." "We will, PJ," Brian promised. "Yeah. I won't ever forget, PJ," Phil assured him. They spent some more time talking and reminiscing about the season. Then they went back to their practice. After they'd gone through their playbook several more times, PJ called a halt. He looked over to where the sun was starting to get lower in the sky and said, "We should get Erik back to the House so he can rest. It wouldn't be good for his knee to get cold and stiff out here." They went back slowly with Phil on one side of Erik and Brian on the other. PJ carried Billy piggyback to the young boy's vast amusement. "This is fun, PJ," he said happily as he rested his head on his friend's shoulder. "Billy, why don't you stay with us again tonight?" PJ suggested. "Yeah!" Billy's head jerked up. "Awesome, PJ. Can I?" "Good idea, PJ," Erik said. "We'll ask Mr. Williamson," PJ replied. They arranged it when they got to the House. Mr. Williamson called Billy's mother and PJ talked to her. "It's the last weekend before the end of football season," he told her. "We probably won't get too many chances after this because of the holidays and swim meets." "All right, PJ," Billy's mother told him. "Just don't let him be a nuisance." "Aw, he could never be that Ma'am," PJ assured her. He gave the phone back to Mr. Williamson and told Billy, "She says you can stay!" "Yeah!" Billy shouted. "Thanks, PJ." Brian and Phil took Erik upstairs so he could rest on his bed and help them with their weekend homework. PJ and Billy went to the Hobby Shop to work on the model plane. They got so interested that hours later they almost forgot to go to dinner and had to run across the Quad , just catching Erik and his two guardians coming out of the House. "I was about to come get you," Brian said when Billy and PJ came panting up. "You should see how nice PJ's plane looks," Billy told him. After dinner, they stayed in PJ and Erik's room playing the baseball video game and taking turns massaging Erik's knee. For what seemed like hours, they rubbed and stroked his leg, even while he was playing. "Guys, this is really feeling a lot better," he said when it was close to bedtime. He bent his leg and stretched it again to show them. "I think I could do some walking now without much trouble." PJ shook his head. "Not yet. Maybe Monday if it still feels good after swimming." Billy looked up with interest. "Are you swimming with PJ now, Erik? I wish I could." "Yup," Erik assured him. "Doctor PJ and Phil have me in the pool every day to exercise my leg." "Maybe we can get you on the team, Erik," Phil said with a grin. "You have a pretty good freestyle." "Unh-unh." Erik shook his head. "I'm sticking with basketball!" Billy slid a palm over Erik's thigh and said in admiration, "Your legs are sure strong, Erik!" "That's all the weights we do," Erik explained. "All four of us work out every day except Saturday. PJ, do you think I should do the two-hour workout tomorrow?" PJ nodded. "Sure. Only some of it's legs. On that part, you can only do the things that don't hurt." "Darn," Erik said, pretending to be disappointed. "I was hoping to get out of it." "The weights have really made a difference in me," Brian said. "I think that's why I'm doing so good in football." "Me too," agreed Phil. "I know I'm lots stronger. It's made a difference in my swimming, too." He held his legs out straight and felt his own thighs. Billy put his legs out. "Mine are strong!" "You do very well with us on that Sunday workout," PJ told him. Billy leaned close to him. "I wish I could work out with you every day." That night, Billy slept with PJ. As he had before, PJ gave him one of his loose T-shirts to wear as a nightshirt. He read quietly to him for awhile from a book of sports stories while he lay curled up against his side. Erik listened from over in his bed. PJ read until he saw Billy's eyes beginning to shut, and then closed the book. "You're a good reader, PJ," Erik whispered. They turned off their lights, leaving only PJ's night-light glowing. As PJ settled under the covers, Billy nestled close and sighed happily. "You're always gonna be my big brother, aren't you PJ?" he sleepily asked. "I mean always, always, always?" "Always, Billy," PJ promised. He put his arms around the boy and hugged him tightly. "I love you, PJ," Billy whispered. PJ closed his eyes and willed himself not to cry. They both fell asleep holding each other. On Sunday after breakfast, Billy went to Chapel with the boys, and then they all went to the Field House for their two-hour workout. PJ pushed himself harder than he ever had before. He was exhausted when they finished, the other boys gasping from the effort of keeping up with him. He'd been careful, of course, not to let Erik do too much with the weights. "That's the very best we've ever done," PJ said after getting his breath. He put his fist out and all the other boys put theirs on top of it. After lunch, they had their practice by the Hill while Erik watched. Then Erik asked if they would help him up to the top of the Hill. "I just wanna sit there for awhile, PJ," he said. "It's such a nice day." PJ put Erik's arm around his neck and they went up the slope carefully, taking their time. When they reached the summit, Erik sat on the ground and slowly stretched his leg. Brian and Phil sat together just behind him, and PJ settled to one side holding Billy on his lap. He was trying to spend as much time with Billy as he could, holding the boy as if he were reluctant to part with him. The view from the top of the Hill looked out over the athletic fields to the Gordonsville campus beyond, where the trees shading the stone and brick quadrangles were a blaze of autumn color. "There's a game of touch on the football field," Brian said, shading his eyes. PJ looked and saw figures running over the grass between the uprights. "What a great place this is," Erik said. PJ held Billy and stroked his shoulder. "Next year, Billy, why don't you come to school here?" "Can I?" Billy turned to face him. "I want to. I wanna be with you and Erik an' Phil an' Brian." "I think you can." PJ hugged him and looked over at Erik. His roommate nodded. That afternoon, PJ left Erik with Brian and Phil and took Billy home himself. Before saying goodbye, he asked, "You'll be sure to come to the game Saturday morning, won't you?" Billy beamed up at him. "You know I'll be there, PJ! My dad and I want to see you win the Championship! I'm gonna cheer for you louder than anybody! An' Jack will be there, too, won't he?" PJ gave Billy one more hug. "I'm counting on you, Billy." He fought to keep control of himself. "Don't let me down now." "I'd never let you down, PJ," Billy told him solemnly. PJ waved to the boy and left. As he walked back to the School he cried a little. When he eventually left to be with Jack, he was going to miss Billy almost as much as Erik. That night, the dreams came again, and in them were bits and pieces about leaving Gordonsville forever and missing his friends, and never, ever finding Jack. He awoke in terror with the darkness pressing in around him. Even his night light didn't seem to dispel it. Silently he left his own bed and crawled in under the covers with Erik, who without waking up threw a protective arm over him and held him close. * * * CONCLUSION OF INSTALLMENT FORTY-SIX Editor Paul Scott's e-mail address: paulkdoctor@gmail.com