The kid grinned. “You’re never going to believe this, but...”

I interrupted him. “But your name is Brian, right?”

He started laughing. “No, my name is Ron Anderson. Our last names are the same, not our first. Why’d you think... oh, I guess it’s because your name is Brian, right?”

“Yeah, in part. It’s just that seems like everyone I’ve been meeting recently is named Brian.”

“Oh. Cool. So, we’re not both Brians, but we’re both Andersons. Maybe we’re related?”

“I supposed it could be, but Anderson is a pretty common last name. You have any relatives named Anderson in Oklahoma?”

“No, sorry. How about Texas or New Mexico or California?”

“No Anderson relatives I know about in Texas or New Mexico, but I have a cousin and aunt and uncle in California. They live in Pleasant Hill.”

“Brian, I don’t believe it. My aunt and uncle live in Pleasant Hill, California. George and Sandra Anderson.”

“Nope, sorry. Stephen and Alice Anderson. Close but no cigar.”

“Well, I guess we tried. So tell me about all of these Brians you kept meeting. And then what’s that huge bandage on your head for?”

“Nothing really to tell about the Brians I met, other than there were three of them. The bandage on my head is because I was attacked and beaten by three guys and ended up in the hospital in a coma. I came out of it in the ICU and now I’m here. I hope I’ll be released in a couple of days. How about you?”

“Infected tonsils. Really badly infected tonsils. The infection spread so I’m getting antibiotics and I’m under an infection watch so they take blood every two hours. I can’t go home until my infection is totally gone. Maybe Tuesday or Wednesday, but sooner I hope.”

“When did you get here, admitted, or whatever they call it?”

“Yesterday morning early. They removed my tonsils at seven a.m. Man was my throat sore all day yesterday and last night. It’s finally better today. Tell me about how you got beat up.”

“These three guys from school are juniors and I’m a sophomore. Anyway, I was walking home and they grabbed me and took me to a shed at one of the guy’s house. I tried to fight them and got slugged with a hammer. They dumped me in a gully next to a field, and the farmer saw it happen. He called the cops and here I am.”

“What school?”

“Deer Valley High.”

“Where’s that?”

“North of here. It’s quite a ways.”

“Remind me to never go to school there!”

“You got it. If you ever ask me what high school to go to, I’ll tell you don’t go to Deer Valley High. Where do you go to school?”

“I’m a freshman at Oak Trail High. That’s south of Weatherford. So what do you like to do?”

“I’m on the tennis team. I like video games, messing with computers, writing programs and designing websites, reading, especially sci-fi, swimming, hanging with my friends. Ya know, the normal stuff.”

“Me too! All of that, including being on the tennis team. How’d your team do?”

“Deer Valley won league, but we lost in the first round of the tourney to Rock Hills. They ended up winning the tourney. How about your team?”

“Well, I was on JV. We won eight and lost twelve. I won about half my matches. Didn’t make it to state. How do you think you’ll do next year?”

“I won’t be able to play. Partly because of my arm, but mostly because of the blow to my head. I’ll have to be home schooled the rest of this year, then I can probably go back for my junior year. But no more sports. It sucks, man, it sucks.” I was starting to tear up.

“That’s awful. They ever catch the guys who did this to you? Did you know them?”

“I knew the names of two of them, but they’re juniors so we didn’t have any of the same classes or anything to do with each other. They’re big time bullies. The third guy I’d seen around campus, but I didn’t even know his name. At school I kept out of their way. I gave their names to the police. I haven’t heard anything about what’s happened. I hope they arrested them and locked them up. Otherwise they could do the same to someone else that they did to me.”

“Any idea why they did it?”

“Nope. There was no reason. I was walking home and they came along in one of the guy’s car and grabbed me.”

“Were they trying to rob you?”

“I guess. They took my wallet and backpack.” I thought about telling him about being raped, but I wasn’t sure it was appropriate since he seemed to be younger than me. And then, I didn’t know who he was or if he’d talk to other people about what I told him.

“Your parents must have been frantic.”

“Yeah, they were. I’m glad they’re here now.”

“Now? You mean they weren’t here before?”

“When I was brought in I was in a coma and I didn’t have any identification so they didn’t know who to call. When I came out of my coma I was able to give the doctor my name and phone number. He called my folks.”

“You seem fine now, except for your broken arm and what looks like a black eye and that bandage.”

“I feel pretty good. Good enough to bitch about the crappy food here. I never thought I’d be thinking the school cafeteria food was better than something, but it’s better than most of what I’ve been eating. How about you, Ron. You had your tonsils out. Can you eat?”

“I’m on something they call a modified liquid diet. Ugh. Makes the school cafeteria chili dog sound good.”

“Oh, god, you get those too? We get that same kind of crap in our cafeteria. Mostly junk food. The only healthy thing is the salad bar, but I can’t eat salad every day. A lot of kids go off campus for lunch, but I always bring my lunch. And here I was on a diet like yours. Ugh is right.”

“What video games do you play, Brian?”

That got us into a long discussion of video games and Xbox versus PS3 versus Wii and did I have a Kinect and lots more. We were interrupted when they brought our lunches. We got into our beds.

“Hey, Brian,” Ron called from the other side of the partition, “what did you get for lunch?”

“I have a bowl of chicken noodle soup like the kind that comes in a box, a turkey sandwich on white bread with no lettuce or cheese, a carton of vanilla pudding for dessert, and two cartons of milk. How ‘bout you?”

“I have what’s probably the same kind of chicken noodle soup, a container of strawberry flavored yogurt, a cup with tropical fruit Jell-O, a container of orange sherbet, a carton of milk, and a carton with a chocolate protein shake. Ugh. I just tasted it. It’s like the white paste we used when I was in kindergarten.”

“You know what it tastes like because you ate paste in kindergarten? Yuck!”

“Hey, I was what, five years old? I tasted lots of stuff back then, including blackboard chalk, finger paints, pencil erasers, and crayons. All of them were awful and after a while I finally learned to not eat anything that wasn’t food or candy. So I’m gonna skip the protein shake.”

“I don’t know, Ron, it’s probably good for you so you really oughta drink it.”

“Easy for you to say, oh person who doesn’t have a carton of this crap.”

I laughed. “Luckily.”

We stopped talking and ate our lunches. Just as I finished my lunch my folks came to visit.

I whispered to Mom and Dad, “I didn’t tell Ron, the kid in the other bed, where we’re from, only that I got beat up on the way home from school. I told him I go to Deer Valley High and that it’s north of here. Okay?”

They whispered back, “Yes, that’s a good idea.”

“Mom, Dad,” I said out loud, the kid in the next bed is Ron Anderson.” I grinned. “Because we have the same last name, we wondered if we were related. We found out we both have an aunt and uncle in Pleasant Hill in California, but his aren’t the same Andersons as ours.”

Mom and Dad walked around the partition.

 “Hi, Ron. We’re Greg and Phyllis Anderson, Brian’s parents. So you have relatives in Pleasant Hill? What are their names?”

“George and Sandra Anderson. Brian told me your relatives have different names.”

“Yes, Stephen and Alice Anderson. So, why are you in the hospital?” Dad asked.

“Infected tonsils. They took them out yesterday morning.”

“Brian had his out when he was six years old. Fortunately his weren’t infected,” Mom said. ”Will your parents be visiting you today?”

“My folks will be here around two. Hey! Brian!”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna call my folks and ask them to bring my PS3 and two controllers, and a bunch of games. And my display. It’s an HP with an HDMI input. We can set it up and play games all weekend.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

I heard Ron call his folks, and apparently they agreed.

“We’re all set, Brian. It’ll be game city in here!”

Ron seemed more enthusiastic than earlier. I guess if he might be stuck in here for another four days having someone to play games with for at least part of that time would be a biggie.

My folks and I chatted about relatives who had been calling and emailing to find out how I was doing, and more about my friends who’d been dropping by to ask about me. I was especially interested in finding more about Nate Mead. That would be so cool if we could become friends. But maybe it was just that I was a novelty or something. I didn’t have that kind of impression that Nate was like that, so maybe there was a way for me to know him better.

“So tell me about Nate Mead coming over.”

“Not too much to tell. He didn’t say too much, he just seemed like he knew you and was your friend,” Mom replied.

Dad knew who he was. My dad’s a big football fan, and he follows the Wolves. That’s the mascot for Deer Valley High. “Nate brought you your DV letter and the tennis emblem for your letterman’s jacket, so now you’re officially a Deer Valley letterman. He said Coach Trimble asked him to bring it.”

Oh. So it was nothing more than Nate was there as a delivery boy because Coach asked him.

“There’s one more thing, though,” Mom added, “Nate said that he asked Coach Trimble if he could be the one to bring your letter and emblem and give it to us for you.”

I grinned. That was great. “That was nice of him.”

Mom looked at me with one of those ‘I know what you’re thinking’ looks, smiled, and said, “I agree. He’s a very nice boy.”

I heard Ron chuckle. Now I’d have to explain myself when we were alone. Oh my god, gag me!

Dad stood up and squeezed my shoulder. “I have to head home. Your mom will be going home with you when you check out. Have fun on the air ambulance. It’s a helicopter. I’m jealous!”

“Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you too, Brian.”

“I’m going to walk your father out. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Mom left and Ron came around the partition and sat on my bed.

“So, who’s this Nate guy who’s a very nice boy? Come on, fill me in with all the details!” He was grinning, and winked at me.

“It’s not the way you think!”

“Gee, what way is that?” He started laughing, then coughing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh ‘cause it makes me cough and coughing makes my throat hurt. Hold on. I’m going to gargle. The nurse gave me something that makes my throat feel better when I gargle with it. Only thing is it makes my tongue numb. I guess it’s an anesthetic of some kind.” He went into the bathroom and I heard him gargle, then he returned and sat on my bed again.

“Sorry, I was just kidding before. But I’m curious. Who is the guy you were talking about? Nate?”

“Nate Mead. He’s going to be varsity quarterback next year, and he’s definitely on the A list at school which I’m not. He’s in a couple of my classes, and we say ‘hi’ but that’s about all. I’ll guess I’ll find out more when I get home.”

“Cool.”

We talked about school, what classes we liked the best, about computers, about movies and TV and music. The sorts of things guys talk about.

About fifteen minutes later Mom came back with two chocolate shakes.

“I brought you a chocolate shake and one for Ron. I checked with the nursing station and they said Ron could have one.”

She handed me my shake. “Oh, man that’s great! Thanks, Mom. ” I started sucking the cold creamy chocolate drink through an oversize straw. It was delicious. Maybe the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten. Except prime rib. Or a thick steak. Or Mom’s waffles with real maple syrup and thick-cut bacon. Or a double What-a-Burger with double bacon and grilled jalapeños and shredded cheddar cheese and lettuce and salsa and double tomatoes. While I reminisced about the food I was missing, and drinking an actually very good chocolate shake, Mom had walked around the partition to give Ron his shake. She met his parents who just arrived and returned with them.

“Bill and Linda, this is my son Brian. Brian, meet Ron’s parents.”

“Hi. Nice to meet you.” I rubbed my hand on the blanket because it was cold and shook hands with both of his parents.

“Brian,” Ron’s mom said to me, “Ron is so happy he has a roommate. He was afraid he’d be all by himself in this room until he was discharged.”

Ron’s dad continued, “Of course, he wouldn’t have been very good company until today. The nurses told me he was moaning all night.”

“Daaaad!” I heard from the other side of the partition.

His folks both laughed, and so did Mom. God, it should be against the law for parents to embarrass their kids.

“Well,” his dad announced, “I’m going to help Ron set up his PlayStation.”

“I’d like to watch, if that’s okay. Mom, if you want maybe you and Ron’s mom can go down and get some coffee in the cafeteria.” I really wanted to add ‘That way you can talk about us all you want and we won’t be embarrassed by it,’ but I didn’t. No use pushing the envelope, as my dad likes to say. I did grin, however.

“Actually, that sounds like a good idea,” Ron’s mom said. And they said goodbye to Ron and his dad.

It turned out that Ron did the set up and his dad did the heavy lifting. Well, nothing was really heavy but you know what I mean. It took maybe ten minutes, plus a few minutes more to decide exactly how to position the display on the bedside cabinet so both of us could see it when we were sitting in the visitor’s chairs.

“Ron, make sure to get all of the wires up off the floor so the nurses won’t trip on them when they come in to take your temperature and give you your medications.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“I’m going to head down to that cafeteria and join your mothers for some coffee. We’ll be back up in a while. Okay?”

“Sure. Thanks loads. See you later.”

I don’t think either of us saw Ron’s dad leave. We were already figuring out how I could use the controller. I have an Xbox and I wasn’t very familiar with the PS3. There is a problem using a game controller one-handed. My arm didn’t hurt so I decided to take it out of the sling. My cast started about two inches above my wrist, and stopped just before my elbow. Maybe I could use both hands on the controller. I flexed the fingers on my left hand and nothing hurt, but they were a little stiff. Then I moved my wrist and that seemed mostly okay. If I rotated my hand my arm hurt more. But since the normal position of my arm had the palm of my hand facing me, it was okay to hold the controller and I could use my thumbs.

“I think I’m more or less good to go. Probably more on the less side, though, because of my broken arm. So maybe I should get a handicap? Like you take it easy on me?” I grinned and wiggled my eyebrows.

“Yeah, sure. You’re handicapped in your brain if you think I’m gonna take things easy on you, Mr. Brian Anderson.”

“That’s Mr. Brian Gregory Anderson, and don’t you forget it!”

“And I’m Mr. Ronald Robert Anderson, but I think you’ll want to forget it when I’m through with you.”

“Let’s get started. What games did you dad bring?”

“Umm... let’s see. You have Dead Space for your Xbox?”

“Yeah. That’s a good choice!”

So he loaded the DVD and we started playing.

Now, let me tell you again about hospitals. There are nurses to take your temperature and blood pressure and do blood draws and give you pills you have to take and ask you to pee into a urine collector and give it to them, and physical therapists who want to have you do exercises, and doctors who want to check how you’re doing, and orderlies brining you your meals, and all kinds of other stuff going on, all day and all night.

Of course, Mom and Ron’s folks returned and we had to talk to them. I think they saw that we wanted to play, so they said they’d go out to dinner and be back afterward. Anyway, we were lucky if we got ten minutes of playing time without being interrupted. But it was a lot of fun. Ron did give me a break because of my left arm, and we weren’t playing seriously, we were just having fun.

An orderly brought us our dinners. I had beef broth that I didn’t eat because it was way salty, roast chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and yellow squash, and a piece of cherry pie for dessert. Ron had a Light Normal meal which meant he had mostly soft stuff, though it was a lot better than what he had for lunch. He had the same salty beef broth that I had but he ate his, macaroni and cheese, creamed corn, a soft roll, and vanilla pudding for dessert.

After dinner our folks returned and we spent the rest of the evening talking to them. When they left both of us were tired, so I helped Ron pack up the controllers and cables and store them in the cabinet, and we went to sleep.

Sunday we played Dead Space, Mercenaries, and Final Fantasy 13. We had the same kinds of interruptions, but there seemed to be fewer of them. What was interesting is that Ron’s doctor came at around ten and examined him and said he could go home on Monday.

“I’m going home tomorrow, Brian! I’m going home!”

“Sweet! Ya know, I’d like to exchange email addresses.”

“Let’s do it. You have paper and a pen maybe?”

“Yeah, I do.” I wrote my name and email and IM addresses. I looked at it for a few seconds, and added my street address and cell and home numbers, then tore off the page. I handed it and the pad and pen to Ron. He looked at what I’d written, then looked at me.

“Edmond Oklahoma? That’s a long way north of Weatherford. How’d you get here?”

“It’s a long story.” So I told him the rest of what happened to me, including the rape and the police and FBI. And I told him about the Edmond policeman and the FBI guy and his partner are all named Brian.

When I was done, Ron looked at me. “Wow. Just freaking wow. You could write a book about this. Make a movie. Hell, a TV series.”

He got up and walked over to where I was sitting.

“Up.”

I stood up and he grabbed me in a hug then stepped back.

“I figured that after telling me about what happened to you, you needed a hug.”

“Thanks. I did. I keep telling people like the police and FBI and my folks. You’re the first friend I’ve told.”

Ron looked at me and grinned. “Friend?”

“Yeah. At least I think so. Am I right?”

He began writing on the pad, and handed it back. He’d written ‘Your friend Ron Anderson’ and his name, address, cell and home numbers, and email and IM addresses.

“Cool. Friend.”

“Brian, what’s Oklahoma like?”

“You mean to say you’ve never been to Oklahoma? Well, let me tell you it’s fantastic. There’s great lakes with canoeing, water skiing, swimming, and fishing, places to go hiking...”

“Okay, okay! Enough with the travelogue. I believe you. Now I want to kick some ass in Black Ops. Ready?”

“Let’s do it.”

Ron was setting up Black Ops when Doctor McFadden came into our room.

“Brian, I need to take you away from your game for a few minutes so I can take a look and see how you’re doing. How are you feeling today?”

“Good. No headaches. My arm hurts if I try turning my hand over like this.” I demonstrated what I meant.

“That’s to be expected. Your arm has been healing, but you still need to let it finish for a few weeks. Your doctor in Edmond will decide when. How about your eye? Let’s see if you’re still having problems with vision in your left eye.” He held up an eye chart and had me hold my hand over my right eye and read the second line on the chart. Then he had me hold my hand over my left eye and read the third line on the chart.

“Is your vision clearing up in your left eye?”

“Definitely. My face doesn’t hurt around my eye now, even if I push on it a bit.”

“Now let’s take a look at the rest of you.” Doctor McFadden did his poking and prodding and peering bit as usual. He took the bandage off my head. That spooked me because that’s my major injury.

“How’s it look, doctor?”

“Good. It’s healed nicely. The stitches can be removed after you get to Edmond. I want your doctor there to check your injury site and make the decision.”

“Who’s that doctor?”

“Doctor Paul Linscomb. He’s associated with the OU Medical Center Neuroscience Department. I think you’ll like him.”

“Great. Will I have to stay in the hospital?”

“You mean be admitted?”

“Yes.”

“That will be up to Doctor Linscomb. Your air ambulance will land at the hospital and you’ll go to the emergency department to be evaluated by him.”

“I really hope I can go home. I mean my house, not a hospital in Edmond.”

“Brian, I understand. Let’s say you’re going to be transferred to the hospital in Edmond Tuesday, and if everything is cleared by Doctor Linscomb you can go home and sleep in your own bed. If he thinks you need to be admitted, then that’s what will happen. Does that sound acceptable?”

“Go home Tuesday? Oh my god yes! Absolutely yes. Even if I have to be in the hospital. At least I’ll be back in Edmond and my friends can come and see me. Does my mom know yet?”

“Yes. I saw her on my way up to examine you.”

“When will I know for sure?”

“Tomorrow morning you’ll see a physical therapist to review what you can and should not do. A nurse will show your mom how to change the bandage on your head. Now I’ll replace the bandage I removed.”

Doctor McFadden put a new bandage on my head and left.

Ron peeked around the partition.

“You have your bandage back on?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Good. I can’t stand blood and gore. I heard you get to go home day after tomorrow. What’s that about an air ambulance?”

“Doctor McFadden told me and my folks that I shouldn’t be shaken or be knocked around, so I shouldn’t be driven back to Edmond. So I’ll take a helicopter that’s set up to take people longer distances than a regular ambulance. It should be fun.”

“I’m almost jealous. I’ve never flown anywhere. I’ve never been outside of Texas. I’ve been mostly stuck in Weatherford all my life. This summer we’re going to fly to San Francisco and visit my cousin Josh and my Uncle George and Aunt Sandra. I’m totally stoked about going. You’ll have to tell me all about your air ambulance and what it’s like to fly in a helicopter. Like, if you had to use a barf bag, and if it’s scary.”

“I’ll let you know all about it. Mom’s got Dad’s camera, so we’ll take pictures of the inside and out the window and I’ll post them and email you the link.”

“Cool. Now, let’s get into Black Ops and kick ass!”