My head hurt.

I groggily opened my eyes to the brightness of the hospital room. There was a brown, fuzzy blanket over top of me.

I carefully sat up in bed and adjusted the bed to match my position. My bloodied clothes were on a table across from my resting spot. There was a wheelchair in the corner of my room.

There was a note on my table.

John,

Mr. Washington called about 15 minutes ago saying that they're coming to pick you up. I didn't wake you up because you had a very hard time falling asleep last night. Your siblings are okay. They've been placed into your mother's care.

- Anna (your nurse for this morning)

P. S. Alex says hi.

I smiled a little at the note.

And then there was a knock at the door.

Hercules and Lafayette, two of my good friends from High School, ran in. Laf was breathing heavily.

"What the hell happened to you?!" Herc said angrily. "I swear, if it was your father, I'm gonna--"

He made a violent gesture of breaking something in two.

"John," Laf said gently. "How are you feeling, mon ami?"

"Uhh," I said, trying to tell them I couldn't speak.

"John?" Herc said, his brow furrowed. "Can you tell us who did this to you?"

"Uhh," I said, feeling tears run down my face. "Ah uh."

"What's my name?" Hercules said shakily.

I broke down sobbing into my hands.

It hurt so damn much for me to not even be able to form a single word. What if I was stuck this way for the rest of my life?

There was another knock on the door.

Alex and Mrs. Custis came in, followed by Mr. Washington. Mr. Washington had what appeared to be my teddy bear.

"Hey, John," Mrs. Custis said. "Are these your friends?"

I sniffled, wiped my eyes, and nodded. "Uh huh."

Alex walked over and sat on my bedside. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Better?"

I shrugged.

"Well," Mr. Washington said. "It's time to go. Alex, can you help John into his wheelchair?"

Alex nodded.

Alex wheeled over the wheelchair that had been waiting in the corner. He very carefully hooked one arm under my shoulder and the other under my knees and lifted me up. My head lolled slightly to the side.

He gently set me down in my chair and strapped a seatbelt over my lap. He helped me fix my feet onto the footrests and made sure I was comfortable.

"So, when will we see you again?" Herc asked.

"Are you guys going to Columbia?" Alex asked them.

"Yep!" Laf said cheerily.

"You'll see him there, along with me!" Alex replied. "We're taking him in for the summer. His father smashed a rock into his skull."

The two blanched. "Well, shit," Laf said.

"Alex, our plane leaves soon," Mr. Washington said. "Come on, son. Let's go."

I awkwardly waved goodbye to my friends as we went out of the hospital room.

The ride was rather bumpy, as the wheelchair wasn't the best in the world. But you take what you get, right?

We got out of the hospital, where we waited while Mr. Washington pulled the car in front of the door. It was a large white van with a large backseat.

Mrs. Custis opened the door for me while Alex lifted me into the backseat out of the hospital wheelchair. I don't know why, but I loved the close contact he kept with me. Mrs. Custis put the wheelchair back inside while Alex buckled me up and supported me with a few pillows.

His hand kept drifting over to mine, and eventually, I just grabbed it and held it.

He seemed a little tense at first, but he relaxed after we began to drive.

We intertwined our fingers together. His hand was warm and calloused, but also soft.

Mr. Washington looked in his rearview mirror at us and smiled a little and winked at me. I felt my face heat up a little.

We drove all the way to the airport that way, our hands connected. He had fallen asleep during the middle of the ride, his head leaning against my shoulder. I was content with this, and I soon felt myself drifting off as well.

I woke up to the sound of hushed voices from the front seat. I blinked a couple of times.

"What are we supposed to do about a wheelchair for him?" I heard Mrs. Custis whisper.

"We'll get one when we get to New York," Mr. Washington responded. "He can't just sit in bed all day, Martha. He's a boy who's going to want to move around the house and such! We're lucky we installed that elevator when we did."

"I know, but how much do they cost?" she asked.

He looked at her with a face that screamed you did not just ask that.

"What?" she said defensively. "I was just curious."

"Martha, we are both professors at Columbia with extremely high-paying positions. Henry Laurens already stated that he was one of the richest men in South Carolina, and now that he's getting jailed and sentenced to life in prison for attempted murder, John has inherited his entire net-worth, which, I remind you, is almost 10 million dollars. If we can't afford to pay for his wheelchair, which we can, then John can pay for it himself."

Holy shit. Dad's entire net-worth? He must've not been getting out anytime soon. And it wasn't like I was gonna bail him out.

"Plus," he continued. "John's entire first year has already been paid for. Of course, he hasn't chosen his courses yet, but I'm sure he'll go with what he wants to do most."

"He was quite the artist growing up," Martha mused. "I still have some of his paintings he gave me. Mainly because they're on canvas, and he said it took him quite a while to make, but also because they're so nice to look at. You know the turtle picture hanging up in my office? He made that for me when he was in 5th grade. He came all the way back down to my classroom just to give it to me as a Christmas present."

"He made that?" Mr. Washington asked. "Wow. I'm impressed. It looked like an 8th grader could've made it."

I closed my eyes and smiled a little.

Alex shifted against me, burying his head into my shoulder.

We reached the airport a few minutes later, Mr. Washington waking the both of us up. They rented a wheelchair from the airport and Alex helped me in while the two adults got our luggage. They had already packed all of my stuff from my room.

Alex pushed me into the terminal, where we were met with the sound of people chattering constantly.

We got our tickets, went through security (it was kind of awkward because Alex had to carry me through the metal detector while they wheeled my chair around), and sat in the terminal, waiting for our flight to get called.

Alex's hand was still in mine, even after all of the commotion.

"We're gonna share a room at my house, you and I," he whispered in my ear. "And I'm gonna request you as my roommate for the dorms."

I nodded. "Uh."

He smiled sadly. "Tell you what," he said, then scooched a little closer to me. "I'm gonna help you learn how to talk again in time for college. We'll start slow, and it's gonna take a long time in order for you to talk normally again, but we can do it. One day at a time, yeah?"

I nodded frantically, excited at the prospect.

"You know," Alex said softly, in almost a sad way. "Mom and Dad might think you were changed by what happened, like, your personality and stuff, but I know you're still the same John I've been talking to for almost a month now."

I felt my cheeks heat up at his words. He squeezed my hand very gently. We soaked in each other's company for a few minutes.

"Flight 63, New York City, now boarding class A," the voice over the speaker said.

"That's us," Alex said. He got up and wheeled me over to the stewardess, who was collecting the tickets. I gave her mine, and Alex gave her his ticket, and then we boarded.

Planes are actually quite small. It was a little difficult to navigate the aisle, but we eventually found our two seats, as mine was a handicapped seat. He sat next to me, while his parents sat behind us.

As soon as the plane took off, a woman peered at us suspiciously. Another woman was next to her and was holding her hand.

"Hey," she said to Alex. "Kid. Is this your brother?"

Alex was taken aback at first, but then he shook his head. "Uh, no. This is my friend."

"Is he gay?"

Alex's grip on my hand tightened a little. "Why?"

"I'm just wondering," the woman said. "My wife and I wanted to say something if he is."

I nodded at him, my head lolling to the side.

"Uh, yeah, he is," Alex said.

The woman sighed. "Hey, can you talk?" she asked, directing this question at me.

"No," Alex said. "He can't."

The woman's wife gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Well," the woman said, squeezing her partner's hand back. "It kind of makes everyone look bad if someone different is part of our community. I'm not saying it's wrong to be gay and different at the same time, God no, but we're all really sick of having to put up with people saying that we have some sort of disorder or disease. By all means, keep doing what you're doing, but it hurts a little."

Alex looked like he was about to fight this woman, but I stopped him by putting my hand on his arm. I pulled out a notepad and wrote a note to her.

My name is John Laurens. I'm 17 and about to go into college in a few months. I actually became like this only a few days ago. My father smashed my skull in with a rock because I told someone he was abusing my siblings and me.

I am okay now, and I am going to learn how to speak again soon, with lots of practice and time. I'm going to be stuck in a wheelchair for possibly the rest of my life, though. It was nice meeting you, miss.

I tore the paper off and handed it to her. She read through it quickly and looked at me with wide eyes.

"I'm so sorry, John," she said softly. "My name is Quinn, and this is my wife, Emily." Emily gave a small wave.

I waved back.

"Hey, tell you what," Quinn said, leaning over to me. "I'm actually a speech therapist at Columbia University. Is that where you're going?"

I nodded excitedly. "Uh!"

She smiled at me. "Great! I can help you during the school year with being able to talk again! Of course, you'll need to work on talking over the summer, but I'll do my best to help you out."

Mrs. Custis peeked up at us, spotted Quinn, and waved at her. "Hi, Mrs. Pierson!"

Both Quinn and Emily waved at her simultaneously. "Hi, Martha!" Emily said brightly. "How was your trip to South Carolina?"

"Well, it got about a hundred times better when I got to see this young man again," Martha said happily, gesturing to me. "You remember him, Emily, from when you were an aid in my classroom? This is John Laurens, Eleanor's little boy!"

Emily gasped. "Jacky?"

I suddenly remembered Emily Jackson. She had been an aid in Mrs. Custis's class when I was in kindergarten. She loved calling me "Jacky", and I didn't mind, because she loved me a lot.

I waved excitedly at her, wanting to say hi.

Quinn laughed a little. "You guys are too cute. You started fostering Alex about two months ago, right?"

"Yep!" Martha said proudly. "Best decision we've ever made."

I saw Alex blush and give a little smile.

The three women continued to talk. Apparently, Emily was the new English professor. Occasionally, Mr. Washington would make a remark that would cause the women to burst out into fits of laughter.

Quinn was about 35 with dark skin and the curliest hair you could ever see (Just imagine Phillip's haircut and then boom). She had a small patch of freckles on her face. Big brown eyes stared out from behind a set of thin-rimmed glasses.

Emily was almost a polar opposite in looks. She was a 33-year-old light-skinned woman with long, naturally red hair that curled near the end. She had a pair of green eyes that were the color of a shamrock.

Despite how differently the two looked and dressed (Emily wore nice, fancy brands while Quinn rocked a camo jacket and a pair of jean shorts), they were so in love that it was adorable.

When the flight was over about 1 hour later, we said our goodbyes and got into Mr. Washington's van. It took about 40 minutes to get to their house from there. They lived in upstate New York.

We drove into a long driveway with an iron gate with a keypad at the beginning. I gaped at Alex in shock as Mr. Washington jumped out of the car to input the code. Alex saw me and giggled. "You're reaction was the same as mine when I first got here."

Mr. Washington got back in the van and we drove down the long path to a large clearing where there was a huge Victorian-style mansion. It was three stories high with several nooks and windows peeking out of the sides. It was a light beige with red bricks and gray shingles near the top. It was like something out of a movie.

(The picture above is a picture of the Heather House in Marine City, Michigan, but let's pretend that it's not a hotel and it's in upstate New York, 'kay? 'Kay.)

I breathed in a sharp gasp as Alex carried me into the house up the front stairs. There were hanging pots full of geraniums and other flowers. Tendrils of honeysuckle and morning glory crept up the porch columns. Mrs. Custis and Mr. Washington grabbed our baggage and followed close behind.

Alex carried me to an elevator that looked like it had been installed recently and took us up to the second floor. We went into a large room with baby blue walls and two queen-sized beds opposite to each other. There was a balcony overlooking the backyard, along with two large windows.

The two beds already had bed sheets on them. One of them was a dark blue with blue pillow coverings and a stuffed, dilapidated rabbit. Books were scattered on top of it. The other was forest green with tiny embroidered leaves covering the blanket. Other than that, there were two dressers and two desks with two rolling chairs. A screen stood in the corner where you could get dressed and undressed behind it without a disturbance. There was lots of open space, perfect for a wheelchair.

Alex set me down on the green bed. "I'm gonna go grab our stuff from Martha and George. I'll be right back!"

And then he left.

I looked around and found a sketchpad on my bedside table, next to my lamp. There was a sticky-note attached to the top.

John, I know how much you love to draw, so I got this for you, along with some pencils in the drawers. Have fun!

- Martha

I grinned and opened the top drawer and found a pack of about 50 Ticonderoga pencils along with an electric pencil sharpener. I squealed a little and adjusted myself so I could comfortably sit and draw on my bed.

I mostly just doodled little pictures of turtles and flowers and stuff, but on the next page, I drew a picture of Alex. His image was branded in my head now, along with the feeling of his hand. Warm and calloused.

Alex came back into our room with two suitcases. He set his down on his bed, and set mine down on my bed. I hurriedly flipped to the original page so that he wouldn't see the portrait of him.

He helped me unpack all of my stuff and set it up on my side of the room, including the portable easel that Mom had gotten me for Christmas last year. After everything had been set up, he sat next to me.

"So," he said softly. "You ready?"

I nodded.

~.~

I took another deep breath and tried again.

"Duh."

Alex's eyes widened and a smile lit up his face as he cheered. "Yes! I knew you could do it!"

Happiness filled me as I realized that I had indeed done it. That single syllable had been the result of a half-hour's worth of practice of pronouncing the sounds of every single letter of the alphabet. We had only gotten to D, but I was immensely proud of myself.

"ALEX! JOHN! TIME FOR DINNER!" Martha called from the bottom of the stairs. "ALSO, WE HAVE A SURPRISE FOR YOU, JOHN!"

Alex picked me up suddenly, and I yelped in surprise. He ran me down the stairs, where his mother waited, desperately trying to keep a straight face.

"He did it, Martha!" Alex said happily. "We got a little into the alphabet, and he pronounced D!"

Martha beamed. "That's wonderful, Alex!" she said happily. "Well, come along. I made food, and the surprise awaits as well. Oh, and George went out to pick up John a wheelchair."

We went into a large dining room, where the table was set with fancy dinnerware. A woman sat in one of the chairs. She was honey-skinned and had light brown hair and dimples in her cheeks. She had a few freckles on her face.

My breath hitched in my throat when I saw the tiny birthmark next to her ear.

Mom.

"Ma!" I said, trying to get her attention.

She turned and gasped. "John! Oh my God, what happened?" She got up and raced over to us. I still had quite a few bandages on my head.

"It was Henry," Martha said from behind us. "He struck him in the head with a large rock several times. His little sister Mary called the police and told them her father was hurting her brother."

An anger that was so unlike her filled my mother's eyes. "I hate Henry," she growled angrily. "How dare he hurt my little baby?!"

"The doctors said he won't be able to walk for the rest of his life," Alex said. "And he can't talk. The brain area that controls his movement and language got really messed up."

Mom tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear and kissed my forehead. I hadn't seen her in almost three years, and she still looked so beautiful. "I'm so sorry, baby. Tell you what, when you're in college, I'll come and visit you whenever I can, okay? Martha and George are going to take wonderful care of you, baby. I love you so much."

~.~

After dinner was over and Mom had left, Mr. Washington helped me with my wheelchair. He had laid a blanket over the back of it so it wouldn't be uncomfortable, and he had attached a little tray in front of me that could be put to the aide or brought up to about stomach-level so that I could write if I needed to say anything important.

"You okay?" Alex asked me as he wheeled me to the elevator.

I nodded. "Uh huh."

We got in the elevator. Alex put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

"How are you feeling, John?" Alex asked.

I looked down at my lap, not making a sound.

I felt a tingling sensation on my scalp. I looked up. Alex was playing with my hair, running his fingers through it very gently. It was strangely soothing, so I looked back down at my tray and let him continue.

My eyes started drooping, and I yawned. I heard Alex yawn behind me.

We reached the third floor. Alex wheeled us out of the elevator and into our room. I wheeled myself behind the screen and got dressed into my pajamas. Alex helped me to bed, then went behind the screen himself.

I went back to my sketchbook and flipped to the drawing of him. I had gotten the shape of his eyes wrong. I quickly fixed it and began shading.

"What's that?" Alex asked, suddenly dressed and sitting on the edge of my bed.

I jumped and quickly hid the drawing behind me. I shook my head rapidly, trying to say Nothing.

Alex looked skeptical but didn't push it any further. I put the sketchbook away when Alex was looking out the window.

"It's getting late," Alex commented. "I'm gonna sleep. Lemme know if you need anything."

He gave me a quick hug and went over to his bed and said, "Good night."

I awkwardly waved at him and he chuckled, turning his bedside lamp off.

I made my way under the covers, my head resting on the pillow. I closed my eyes and let sleep come.