It was Friday morning. I was mostly asleep and little bit starting to wake up. My eyes were still closed tight, trying to keep the morning light from waking me up. I wanted to continue sleeping. I was lying on my right side, and I started feeling something touching my left side. Still mostly asleep, I sort of wiggled to get rid of the feeling. My brain was actively paying attention and noticed that it was still there, and was moving slowly up my side. My brain took over and now I was mostly awake. My brain was telling me that what I felt must be a spider. I hate spiders. I’m not afraid of most anything, but spiders… that’s a different story. The only nightmares I have are about spiders. Finally my brain woke me up all the way, and I jumped up and out of bed. I turned around and pulled the covers down to see the spider.

My actions were greeted by raucous laughter. Carson! He’d found a feather from my quilt and held it up like a trophy. He’d used it to tickle me, making me think it was a spider crawling along my side. Oh, was he gonna get it, broken arm and all.

I jumped on him. More correctly I jumped where he had been. Damn, he jumped out of bed fast!

“Oh, you are so dead, Carson!”

I climbed out of the bed, and he moved around to the other side. I saw him look over his shoulder to see if he could get to the bathroom and lock the door before I could get there. He couldn’t.

He was laughing. “What, you don’t like feathers being stroked up your side?”

“It felt like a spider.”

“You don’t like spiders?”

“NO!”

“You’re scared of spiders?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, shit! I’m sorry, David! I really thought you’d wake up because I was tickling you.”

He walked around the bed to where I was standing. I could tell from his expression that he really was sorry. He put his hand on my shoulder.

“I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known you were afraid of spiders. Really, David.”

“Okay, you’re forgiven. From now on, if you’re going to tickle me do it with your fingers.” I saw a gleam in Carson’s eyes. “Just don’t try it now. I have the advantage of two arms to your one.”

Carson giggled. “Hmmm… you think so, huh? Well, maybe that’s true. But just you wait, David Dempsey. When my arm is out of this cast we’ll see who has the advantage when we’re evenly matched.”

“You’re on! We’ll have a tickling match. The loser is the first one who begs the other to stop. We on?”

“We’re on!”

“Okay. Now, do I or don’t I?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Carson, you said I should ask you in the morning if I snored. I’m asking.”

He looked me in the eye and grinned. “There’s no way for me to know whether you snored or not.”

Now it was my turn to say, “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“When I’m asleep it’s almost impossible to wake me up. Mrs. Adamsen said a railroad train could run through my bedroom and I wouldn’t wake up.”

“So you didn’t hear me snoring?”

“Let’s just say I didn’t hear you snore at all, and if you did snore it wasn’t loud enough to wake me up.”

“Good. So I’m going to say that I don’t snore. What I do have to do right now is pee.” I headed for the bathroom, closely followed by Carson.

“Me too. You use the urinal, I’ll use the toilet.”

“No, you better wait and use the urinal. If you miss Mom will make you wash the floor with your toothbrush.”

“Eww! Then I’ll brush my teeth while you pee, and after I’ll hide my toothbrush.”

That made us both giggle.

After we finished these morning rituals, I looked at Carson’s arm. “You can’t shower with that cast on your arm. What are you going to do?”

“Well, night before last at Hathaway House, Linda, one of the workers there, put my arm in a plastic bag and taped it so water wouldn’t get in and get my cast wet. That worked pretty good. Can we do that?”

“Sure. I’ll talk to Mom about it. Hang on and I’ll be right back.”

I put on some board shorts and went downstairs. Mom was in the kitchen getting breakfast started.

“Hey, Mom?”

“David, you’re not planning on eating breakfast dressed that way, are you?”

“Uh, no. Carson and I have a question about his arm. He can’t take a shower without covering his arm. Do we have a plastic bag that we can put around it, and some tape to close it up so water can’t get in?”

“Sure. Let’s see what size bags we have and that might fit. We can use your arm as a fit model.”

Mom opened the drawer where she keeps the plastic bags from the market and drugstore and other stores. After a brief search she found a heavyweight bag from BuyMart, and another from the drugstore.

“Let’s try the BuyMart bag first.”

She shook it open, squeezed the top closed in one hand, pushed in her finger to make a little opening, and blew into the opening a few times. Then she tightened her grip so it was closed tight and pushed on the side of the bag.

“Okay, it’s holding air and that means that water shouldn’t leak inside when Carson is showering. Let’s go to the hall bathroom upstairs. I’m sure there’s some adhesive tape in the medicine cabinet.”

She found the adhesive tape, and I knocked on my bedroom door before opening it a bit.

“Carson, Mom’s here with a bag and tape. Is it okay for us to come in?”

“Sure.”

He was sitting on my desk chair.

Mom studied his arm for a few seconds. “Can you move your arm without it hurting?”

“Mostly. It starts buzzing then sort of twangs if I move it too fast or try to straighten it.”

“So you’ll be able to move it out of the way of the water in the shower?”

“Uh huh.”

“Alright,” Mom said, “let’s take off your sling, and I’ll put this bag over your arm. I‘ll wrap the tape around your bicep and as long as you’re careful no water should get inside.”

I helped Carson take off his sling and he held his arm away from his chest. Mom slipped the bag over his arm and folded it so it was closed onto his bicep. Only thing, it was way too long.

“David, get me your scissors, please.”

I got my scissors out of my desk drawer and she cut around the top of the bag then slipped it back on Carson’s arm. She needed to cut a little more off the open end and trim the edge. He closely watched this little operation. I did too. Mom was very careful, and never got close to his skin. Then she handed the scissors to me.

“David, please cut four pieces of adhesive tape about a foot long each.”

I cut the first piece and handed it to her.

“I’ll cut the rest if this is long enough.”

“Okay. Now, pull the top of the bag so it’s tight against Carson’s arm, then hold it as close to the top as you can.”

After a couple of holding adjustments Mom wrapped the tape just below where I was holding the bag, and that pulled it tight.

“I think then next ones need to be longer. Cut three more, but make them about a foot and a half long.”

I did the cutting and she wrapped the pieces of tape around the top edge of the bag. It took two more pieces so the cut edge of the bag was completely covered by tape that extended up onto his bicep.

Mom stood back and looked at her handiwork. “I think that’ll do it. Does is feel too tight, Carson?”

He slowly moved his arm around and felt where the top of the taped part. He looked at Mom and me and grinned.

“Perfect. It looks gift-wrapped.”

I grinned and pointed to myself. “That was why I chose the BuyMart bag. It had pictures of Christmas ornaments. It's the bag your iPod came in.”

Mom turned to me. “David, I suggest you shower with Carson because he’s not going to be able to do it himself. Are you okay with that, Carson?”

“Sure. When I tried to shower myself yesterday morning I couldn’t do a very good job of it. They put a bag on my arm but I could feel a little water leaking into it, and it’s nearly impossible to shower with one hand.”

“David, are you okay with helping Carson shower? Basically you’ll be showering together.”

“No problemo, Mom.”

Nevertheless, it turned out to be a bit of a ‘problemo’. My shower is big, so we had enough room for us to be in the shower together. The problem turned out to be Carson. He is very ticklish. When I tried to wash his right armpit he started laughing and slammed his arm down against my hand, holding it as hard as he could.

“Come on Carson, I’m NOT trying to tickle you. I need to wash your armpits. Lift your arm. I have an idea.”

I think it tickled him because I was trying to be gentle. So when he lifted his arm I pull it up further and rubbed hard, washing his pit and his side.

“OW! That hurts!”

“Yeah, but it didn’t tickle, did it.”

“Uh… no, it didn’t.”

“Can you wash your left armpit yourself using your right hand?”

“Sure!”

I gave him the washcloth and he washed his left armpit and his left side. I washed his back, his butt cheeks, and the backs of his legs. I let him wash his butt crack and everything up front.

My shower has one of those showerheads on a hose.

“Is it okay if I rinse off all of you, back and front?”

He seemed to think about that for a few seconds, then nodded.

“Yeah. Just don’t overdo it on my dangly bits.”

I looked down. “Your bits aren’t dangling anymore.”

He looked back at me. “Et tu, David.”

We busted up laughing as I rinsed off all of him, including his now totally-not-dangling bits.

“Okay, hold your left arm against your chest and bend over. Brace yourself against the wall with your right arm stuck straight out. I’ll wash your hair, and I’ll try to not get the bag or your arm wet.”

He looked down at my totally-not-dangling bits, then back up at me.

“Trust me Carson, I’m not into what you’re thinking.”

“I was just thinking how cute you are. You mean you’re not cute?”

“Wiseass. Just bend over and brace yourself.”

I washed his hair, shampooing it twice.

“Oh my god, that feels so good, David. I couldn’t wash it yesterday and it felt so grungy.”

I grabbed Carson’s towel and dried him, starting with his hair and all down his back, then his chest and legs.

“You want to do your sensitive parts yourself?”

“Nah. Just go ahead and dry them too.”

When I finished drying him — which was a lot of fun for both of us — he stepped out and I took my shower and dried off. He’d gone into my bedroom and put on some clean briefs, and I did the same. He was sitting on the side of my bed. I picked up the scissors and walked over to him.

“Lemme cut the bag off your arm. I’ll be real careful.”

Cutting adhesive tape that’s stuck to someone’s arm isn’t possible. It has to be peeled off, very carefully. The biggest problem was finding the cut edges of the adhesive tape, but after a minute or so each piece came off and I slipped the bag off his cast. And I didn’t have to use the scissors. I hung the bag over the top of the shower door to dry.

“We’ll save this for tomorrow and whenever else you’re over here while you still have your cast.”

“What’d they say, six weeks I have to keep it on?”

“I think so. That sucks.”

“Yeah. I have to figure out what to do about a T. Yesterday morning Linda cut the sleeve out of one of my old ones. I don’t have a lot of old T’s and I don’t want to cut up good ones to get them over my cast.”

“Alan has a bunch of old T’s. He never throws any of ‘em away. Most are old band T’s and some are plain white. Lemme go check.”

I went through the bathroom into Alan’s bedroom. I knew he had a pile of old T’s in his closet, and I picked out a half-dozen white ones and brought them back to Carson.

“How are these? They’ll be big for you because he’s a lot bigger than we are, so I think the sleeve will slip right over your cast. You’ll have to wear a shirt, otherwise it’ll look weird, like you’re wearing a dress.”

I helped him put on one of the T’s. It worked perfectly. He put on some jeans and tucked in the T and I was surprised that it didn’t look weird. He put on a shirt anyway, and let it hang out.

“You look cool. Lemme finish getting dressed and we’ll get some breakfast.

We dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen. Mom smiled as we walked in.

“My, Carson, you look very cool!”

Carson and I started laughing.

“Mom, that’s exactly what I told him just before we came downstairs.” I turned and stared at him, looking him up and down. “Yes. Cool, very cool.”

“What would you boys like for breakfast? Lynn and Barb aren’t down yet. In fact, I’m surprised that you two are up and about this early.”

I looked at the clock over the breakfast table.

“What the… it’s only quarter to nine? My alarm shouldn’t have gone off yet. Wait a minute… my alarm didn’t go off! Why…” I realized what happened. “Alright, Carson, why did you wake me up so early?”

“I’m used to getting up at seven thirty at the Adamsen’s and it’s the same at Hathaway House. I just automatically wake up then.”

“That’s cruel. I missed out on an hour and a half’s extra sleep just because you woke up. Mom, do we have any sleeping pills we can give Carson tonight?”

“No, we don’t and we wouldn’t give Carson or anyone else sleeping pills. And getting up at seven thirty is something you do on school days, so don’t act like you’re not used to it.”

“But this is a holiday! I should be able to sleep until nine. Or even ten.”

“Not when you have a guest staying over. And especially when he’s your best friend.”

Carson poked my in the shoulder. It was a soft poke, and I turned to look at him. He was grinning and he nodded. “Yup, your best friend.”

“Aww, Carson, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being a di…” Oops, I almost said ‘dick’ and Mom wouldn’t have liked that at all. “…dimwit. This gives us more time to do things.”

“Nice recovery, David.” Mom was glaring at me. “Now, what do you two want for breakfast?”

“Bacon and eggs, please. That okay with you, Carson?”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

“We have cinnamon rolls, or you can have toast if you prefer,” Mom offered.

Carson and I replied at exactly the same time, “Cinnamon rolls, please!”

“Alright. David, pour some orange juice for the two of you, and get out the milk.”

We sat and drank our orange juice while Mom fixed breakfast.

I asked Mom, “I assume Alan left to take Jenny to San Luis?”

“Yes, he left at seven.”

I remembered that Dad was working with Mr. Hagen to find out how we could be a foster family for Carson. If that worked out he’d be my foster brother. I had lots of questions I wanted to ask Dad. Like, how long would it take? What if they sent Carson to some other foster family first? What if he got moved to a group home? I realized that becoming Carson's foster family might get complicated, and I sure hoped that wouldn’t happen.

 “Where’s Dad? He has today off, doesn’t he?”

“He has today off, but he had an errand to run. He’ll be back before lunch.”

Hmm. Maybe he was meeting with Mr. Hagen this morning. He might have some answers when he got home.

Mom set our plates in front of us. Three eggs, six slices of bacon, and two cinnamon rolls each. Carson started to giggle.

“What’s so funny?”

“This is a LOT of food.”

“I’ll take whatever you don’t want!”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll eat it all. It’s just that at Hathaway we never get this much to eat for breakfast. This is so much better. Thanks, Mrs. Dempsey. This is a perfect breakfast.”

“You’re very welcome, Carson. I see you have very good manners.”

Damn. That was one of those ‘mom’ things where they say something to someone else when they’re really sending a dig to you. It had embarrassed Carson, too. He was blushing.

“Yeah, thanks for breakfast, Mom. Especially these great homemade cinnamon rolls.”

“You’re welcome, David.”

Lynn and Barb came down and sat at the table.

“Morning. And how are my sisters doing today?”

Lynn stared at me with one of her patented looks. “I’m not awake yet. Call back later.”

Let’s just say that Lynn wasn’t a morning person. No, not at all. Now, I don’t want to get up before nine on a weekend or holiday, but Lynn wants to sleep until noon. Every day of the week.

Barb giggled, which got her one of Lynn’s looks. “Morning, Carson. Morning, David.”

“Morning, Barb,” Carson replied. Then I said the same.

“Lynn, when you’re awake let me know what you’d like for breakfast. A peanut butter and bacon sandwich on toasted sourdough bread as usual, Barb?”

“Yes, please.” Barb poured herself a glass of orange juice. “What are you going to do today, Carson?”

“I’m going online to iTunes and download some music into my new iPod. And thanks to all of you again for such a wonderful gift.”

“What kind of music do you like, Carson?” Well, Lynn had finally joined the living and was actually conversing.

“Mostly oldie rock, indie rock, and jazz are my favorites. But I listen to most everything.”

“Pretty eclectic music interests there, Carson. Do you play any instruments?”

“Yeah, the guitar. And I sing.”

“I play the guitar, too! We’ll have to have a jam session.”

Barb joined in and asked Carson, “Do you sing like Justin Bieber?”

“No, I sing like me. Justin Bieber’s okay. Do you think he’s cute?”

Barb sighed. “Oh, yes.”

That elicited a sigh from Lynn. “He’s so gay!”

“Lynn! We don’t use terms like that. You know better.” Mom absolutely didn’t want us to use offensive and derogatory slurs of any kind.

“But Mom!” Lynn responded, “Saying ‘So gay’ now means something's good. It’s like saying Justin is real cute. And he is.”

Mom looked at me, then at Carson. “Does ‘so gay’ mean something positive at your schools now? Or is it still offensive?”

Carson replied first. “Well, at my school it’s still mostly offensive if it’s used when talking directly to someone, like saying ‘you’re so gay’. But if you say it about someone famous or about something like clothes where it’s not being said directly to someone, then it could be okay.”

“I agree with Carson,” I added. “So saying Justin Bieber is ‘so gay’ means he’s hot. If you say Hollister clothes are ‘so gay’ that means they are great looking. Mom, gay is becoming very in now.”

“I think you all need to be careful about using ‘so gay’ because that term is still considered negative by many people. It will be good if it changes from meaning something bad to something good, but you should use it carefully. Until a change in meaning like this is well known you might find yourself offending someone even though you didn’t mean it that way. You might end up having to explain what you really mean to lots of people. Your schools have anti-harassment and anti-bullying policies, and using ‘so gay’ might be prohibited by that policy. You don’t want to get in trouble at school.”

We all agreed to be careful about using ‘so gay’. When we were finished eating the discussion continued. Finally it broke up when Carson and I went upstairs to my room. We talked about ‘so gay’ while we made my bed.

“I never use ‘so gay’. I think it’s dissing people. Even when it’s something like a car, or clothes, it’s dissing  people who drive that kind of car or wear that brand of clothes. How about you, David?”

“I agree with you. But I do hear people using it as a positive thing. Like I told mom, gay is in now. I’m not surprised that Lynn would bring it up. She’s always out on the leading edge whether it’s what people say or wear or music or movies or whatever.

“Okay, we’re done with my bed. Why don’t you set up your iPod, then you can download some music.”

“Don’t I need my computer so I have a backup of all my music?”

“Hmm… yeah, that would be best. You said you have a laptop?”

“Yeah, it’s a netbook so it’s not very powerful, and it’s slow. But it’s okay for doing homework and being on the internet. It has built-in wi-fi.”

“Can we walk to Hathaway House and get it?”

“Sure! It’s only about a ten minute walk from here. Then you can see what Hathaway is like, and maybe meet some of the guys.”

“Cool. Let’s do it.”