When I got to the lounge, Aunt Glory threw a magazine on the table and got up. "Thank goodness." She pointed at the TV in the corner. "That news channel keeps talking about that buffoon Trump, and the magazines are all things like Good House Keeping. I've got a maid, for goodness sake." I laughed at her rant. "I take it everything went well. I didn't get any frantic messages, and you stayed too long for just a polite, meaningless visit."

"BJ and I are good. He actually wants to be my friend again. I told him he'd get tired of seeing my ugly mug." I shook my head. "But his mother is another story. She let me talk to BJ alone because he didn't give her much choice, but she gave me the cold shoulder. I'm just the brat that almost got her son killed, as far as she's concerned."

"Give her time," Aunt Glory said. "She'll come around."

"BJ's words, exactly."

"Great minds and all that."

I kept my phone with me 24/7, but no call came from the prison. Mom and Seth returned home acting like newly weds, sharing secret smiles and touching when they passed, all that craziness. Aunt Glory and I would just look at each other and roll our eyes.

On Monday, Mom returned to work. Aunt Glory and I decided to take in an afternoon matinee. Captain America Civil War was playing in the new 4D theater that had just opened. I conned her into taking me, even though she wasn't a superhero fan. When we walked out of the theater at 5 pm, Aunt Glory looked at her phone and went, "Uh-oh."

"What?"

"We may be in the dog house. I have five missed calls from your Mom. How about you?"

I put my hand in my pocket and then said, "Oops. I think I left my phone at home. Mom said today was a holiday so I wasn't expecting a call from the prison..." I sort of trailed off. Aunt Glory had already dialed and had the phone up to her ear.

I could hear Mom from where I was standing. "Where have you been?!"

"We decided to take in a movie. What's up?"

"The prison called. Put me on speaker."

"Let us get in the car first. I'm unlocking it now. No sense in letting the whole theater crowd listen in."

We climbed in the car and Aunt Glory hit speaker. "Okay, you're live."

"They're going to let you go, CW."

I pumped my fist in the air. "Yes."

"There is a condition."

"Anything," I said.

"You can't tell anyone there that you have been convicted of a misdemeanor. Neither you nor your Dad are to mention it except during the hour when you sit by yourselves and talk. Then you can talk to Paul about it, but no one else."

"It was in the paper, Mom. They get the Times Picayune at the prison."

"I know that, and so do they. They just don't want it to look like they're setting a precedent. They don't want kids going home and telling their Moms that there was a boy there who was caught joyriding. That type of thing."

"No problem," I said. "It's not like I'm proud of it or anything."

"I should hope not. They were very impressed with the interview. They said the lessons you were able to articulate without forewarning that you would be asked showed a level of maturity they weren't expecting from a rebel. They were convinced that you wouldn't cause any trouble and certain that a day with Paul would help cement your resolve. So congrats."

We heard an alarm go off in the background. "Gotta run." The phone went dead.

Aunt Glory grabbed my chin and turned my face towards her. "I told you they couldn't turn that face down."

I ducked as she leaned in to plant lipstick on my cheek. I laughed. "No, you said they couldn't resist my final plea. You didn't say anything about this handsome face."

She started the car. "So what do you want to celebrate with? A hot fudge sundae?"

"Maybe that and some cheddar peppers."

"You and your cheddar peppers," she said, but she pulled into Sonic.

Aunt Glory left on Friday, leaving me home alone. Seth wouldn't actually be using his new office until next week. Not that having him there would help with boredom, though. He would be seeing patients not entertaining me like Aunt Glory. He moved most of his stuff over the weekend, though. I did help with that.

I had been exchanging short texts with BJ. He had use of both thumbs, but said trying to get a phone positioned where he could type using both hands was impossible with casts on both arms. Using predictive text a lot, he did manage to communicate, and he said that it didn't matter how long it took him to type a message. What else did he have to do?

On Monday I got a text. "Mom is returning to work tomorrow. Want to come over?"

I laughed when I read it. BJ had started using correct grammar when texting. When I asked why, he said it kept his English skills active but that texting with his limitations was easier to do that way because of predictive text. Evidently typing text lingo was hard for him to do.

I texted back "sutm". (See you tomorrow.)

I thought about BJ's condition. What could I bring that we could do without causing him pain or frustration? I decided to bring dice and monopoly. I put Dad's Bible story CD with the game stuff. I'd watched all of the stories by now, and BJ said he wanted to watch them.

I asked my tutor to come in the afternoon the next day, figuring I'd give BJ the morning. I cleared that with Mom when she got home. She told me I could arrange my days however I wanted as long as I got in at least three hours of school and an hour of exercise.

When I arrived around 9:30, BJ was laying in bed. The TV was on a music channel. As I walked in I heard the words, "But the biggest mistake you made is never too big to fix." I stopped and looked at the TV. There was no picture just weird lines keeping beat with the music. I stood and listened. BJ must have been listening, too, because he didn't say anything. The song ended with the words, "Your life is never beyond repair."

"Pretty cool song, huh," BJ said.

I cleared my throat of the lump that had come up while I listened. "Yeah." Another song had started. The words were obviously Christian. "What kinda music station is that?"

"It's contemporary Christian." 

"Those words in that last song, it's like they were written for me."

"Yeah. I could tell they were sort of getting to you. That was 'Never Beyond Repair' by a band called Everfound."

"I didn't know you were into Christian music."

"I wasn't. Evidently my parents played it when I was in the coma, thinking it would get through to me. I don't remember hearing it, but after I came to, I didn't try to get them to change the channel. I sort of like listening to the words. They mean a whole lot more than they used to." He stopped. He looked sort of sheepish. "They're soothing, too."

"What's the channel? I might try that out at home when I'm exercising."

BJ smiled. "Channel 777. I think that's supposed to be prophetic or something. Seven is the perfect number for the Jews, and Jesus was a Jew. So three sevens must be real perfection." He changed the subject. "What did you bring?" 

"Monopoly, dice for Farkle or Yahtze, and Dad's DVDs.

"Cool. I think I can do all of those."

We decided to start with Monopoly. It worked better on the tray than a bunch of dice that could easily roll off and onto the floor. We could keep the two monopoly dice on the board.

"It'll help if you move for me," BJ said. "I'm kinda clumsy with these casts."

"How much longer are you going to have them?"

"I might get the right one off next week. The leg and left arm were pretty badly damaged. They said it could be a matter of a couple months longer for them to heal properly."

I raised my right arm. "Yeah, this arm is taking its sweet time. At first the bone wasn't growing up over the metal rod they put in the there like they hoped. But it's improving, so I might get it off in a few weeks," I explained. "When are they going to move you to a regular room?"

"Pretty soon, I hope, but with Mom having to go back to work, they may keep here for a while. I don't think they want to leave me unmonitored. It might be hard for me to get to the call button if something came up."

"So have they ruled out internal damage?"

"They repaired the internal stuff during the initial surgery. There hasn't been any sign of internal bleeding or anything, so they're pretty sure they got it all."

I pointed to his head. "How come you've still got bandages up there?"

"I had a crack in my skull."

"No, shit."

"They said it was a hairline fracture, but they're leaving the bandages on until it completely heals, just as a precaution."

Our conversation covered a lot of ground while we played monopoly. We discussed everything starting with injuries, progressing to school and finally to Facebook and the posts BJ's friends had been writing.

"I haven't really been on FB," BJ said. "Typing is so hard and stuff. But I'll log on and tell those guys to knock it off."

"It's okay. They've got a lot of it right. I did do some loser things."

"Maybe, but you got over it. I've moved on. They should too. If we all got creamed on FB every time we did something stupid, the Internet would be overwhelmed with loser postings. Besides, that's a type of bullying. The thing all of us had against Jake and Marlow was their bully tactics. The guys who are posting bad stuff about you need to be reminded of that."

"I suppose," I conceded.

At about 10:30, BJ's Mom called. She was evidently on her break.

BJ answered on speaker. "Hi, Mom."

"Hey, kiddo, how's it going."

"Good. CW – you call him Wayne – came over and we're playing Monopoly."

"You know I don't..."

BJ interrupted. "You're on speaker, Mom."

"Good. Then I'm going to talk to CW." She said the name sarcastically. "I know it probably salves your conscience, CW, to hang out with BJ since you got out of facing the music at school by getting the board to let you stay homebound. But I can see through your charade. You were right. When I see you, I do see a reckless brat."

"Geez, Mom," BJ interjected.

"Just be quiet and let me have my say."

BJ rolled his eyes at me and turned his lips down. "Sorry," he mouthed.

I just shrugged as Mrs. Hartford continued her tirade. "BJ almost died because of you. I know that he says you tried to warn the boy driving the bike, but I think that's something his mind invented because he wanted a reason to forgive you. You're using it because you've lost all of your friends, and you need BJ to fill the gap."

"I did warn, Jake, ma'am," I said. "There's an audio tape of the moment of impact that proves it. Ask the DA. That's part of the reason they're not charging me but asked me to testify instead." There was silence on the line so I continued. "I just didn't know that Jake heard me. Until BJ told me that he heard me, I thought the wind blew my words away and that Jake hadn't heard. Now I know better."

Mrs. Hartford finally found her voice. "You can be sure I'll talk to the DA." She made no apology before ending the phone call. "I've got to go back to work, BJ. I love you."

"Love you too, Mom."

The line went dead.

"That was intense." BJ hit the Facebook app on his phone. "Would you help me out, here? Type in what I tell you on my Facebook page."

"Okay, but you don't have to do this."

"But I do. You heard my Mom, and she's usually pretty rational. If she's thinking like that, I can imagine how crazy our world is going with the blame game." He handed me the phone. "Before we start, put your ugly mug down here next to mine and take a selfie."

"Look," I started to protest.

"Just do it, dude. A picture's worth a thousand words and all that. Try to smile, too. You can't look like you're about to attend my funeral."

I couldn't help but grin. I took the selfie. Then I opened FB back up on the phone, went to BJ's home page, and clicked on the status bar.

"Attach the selfie," BJ said. "Then I'll tell you what to write about the picture."

I did as instructed.

"Get a load of the two impaired dudes from the motorcycle vs bike incident. Some of you out there are dissing CW (or Wayne) for his part in the wreck. He did get a case of the stupids and was joyriding, but he's not a loser. Even if he was, bullying him on FB is the cowardly way to go. If you think he did something wrong, talk to him face to face. He can explain things to you. We've talked things through and we're still friends." He stopped talking, and I finished typing. "You can hit 'post'," he said.

I hesitated. "I don't know if I want those guys trying to talk to me," I admitted.

"Look, you told me that I didn't need to defend you. I think I do, to an extent. But if this is ever going to be done with, you need to be willing to defend yourself in the court of public opinion." He sort of gestured towards the phone. "On-line postings are the coward's way of dissing and/or defending. If you can't hold up your head and tell people the things you told me, then..." He trailed off, ending with a shrug.

"Yeah. I guess you're right, but it's hard to look someone in the eye and tell them you're not a total jerk when you feel like one."

"Get over yourself. Didn't you say you've got Jesus in your corner. If Jesus can forgive you, you have to forgive yourself."

"I suppose." I heard the sound of a heavy cart in the hall and the rattling of dishes. I looked at my watch. "Man, it's 11:30 already." I jumped up. "I was gonna go and get us some burgers for lunch. I'm sure you're tired of hospital food."

"That's okay, dude. I'll survive."

I sat back down. "Okay, but I'll do it tomorrow."

"You're coming back tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I thought I'd spend my mornings here, if that's okay. I figured you could use the company, and it gets kind of boring at home. I have to do school for three hours a day and exercise for one, but that leaves a lot of time." They brought BJ's tray in, and he started to eat. "I have to meet my tutor at one and when she leaves, I'll do my hour of exercise. The two days when the rehab therapist comes, I'll do my lessons at 2, after he leaves. That'll give me mornings up here, at least during the week when everyone else is at school or work. On weekends, I'll let your family keep you company."

"Sounds like a plan. How did you get here anyway? I imagine riding your bike with that cast on could be hazardous."

"City transit, dude."

BJ laughed. "You're doing buses? I thought you hated the things."

"You do what you gotta do man."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I'm gonna have a homebound tutor starting next week, I think. I tried to tell Mom I should take the semester off and start over next year, but she wouldn't hear of it. I can tell them that I'd rather have tutoring in the afternoons, though. What do they give you? Three hours a day?"

"That's what I get right now, but my tutor said they may transfer me to on-line status now that I can do that easily. She said on-line students don't get daily face time unless they need it. She will probably only come by a few times a week once I transfer to on-line. Hey, maybe my tutor could do us both at the same time. We're taking most of the same subjects. You could schedule classes like from 12-3. I could stay here and get home in time to do rehab like from 4-5.""

"I'm way behind, though."

"Yeah, but I could be doing my stuff on-line while she was working with you, but she'd be here if I had a question."

"All we can do is ask."

"Okay. I'll talk to her this afternoon and see what we'd have to do to set it up."

And that's how we became homebound buddies. My tutor okayed it with the school. She was down with it because she got paid for each of us separately, but didn't have to put in as much time as she would if she saw us individually. We each had our own IEPs and such, but it was a lot less work for her our way. At first the principal and teachers were reluctant because of our unique situation, but she told them the collaboration was our suggestion. Both sets of parents had to sign off on it. I guess BJ and I got through to his Mom, because she didn't put the kibosh on it.