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Show in my father's house/ 232 "Who is your doctor, anyway? When my brother broke his arm he only stayed home two days." "I can't help it!" My voice rose. Then I caught myself. "What have you been doing in school?" "Nobody likes Michael anymore. But you're missing a lot of schoolwork. Guess you won't get all A's this time." Then I heard her whisper to someone. The responding voice sounded familiar. I searched, trying to associate it with a face. Mrs. Pianella. "Who set your arm?" Sally was back, her voice smooth. "I have to go now," I said, and hung up the phone. The next morning at nine o'clock, Mrs. Pianella knocked at the door. My mother went to the door in her faded housedress, her hair uncombed. Mrs. Pianella pushed past my mother and put a stack of books on my lap. "You've missed a lot of school," she said brusquely- I nodded. "How are you?" She searched my face. "Fine." "Your arm." She examined each of my fingers. "Move them." £ did. "It seems to be healing properly," she muttered. Then she looked at me long and piercingly. "Who. set it?" I faltered and glanced at my mother who stood with a fist igainst her mouth, her eyes dark with worry. "My doctor." "No doctor would use this...this stuff! This arm needed a :ast! Broken in two places, maybe more. Who set your arm?" My mother spoke. I was amazed by the dignity and careful |