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Show in my father's house/ 234 "Well, they've been harrassing me here, too," he said. "The AMA is trying to get a monopoly on the health of this nation. But I'm getting the schooling that'll give me the right to prescribe drugs and perform minor surgery. Pretty soon they'll run out of bones to pick with me." Before he hung up, he gave me permission to go to school on Monday. Instead of anticipation, I felt anxious and wished for snow so that I could point out how dangerous a fall would be for my fragile bones. As if in answer to my wishing, a thin, dry sheet of snow fell Sunday morning. "I don't think I should go to school tomorrow," I told my mother. "It looks icy." My mother nodded. "That's very wise." She was always glad for company. I knew I was cowardly, but so much would have changed in my absence. I would be far behind my classmates, and maybe with only the bandage sling to prove my story no one would believe that my arm had really been broken. I wondered about Sally and Mrs. Pianella. Did they know more about our family than they were letting on? I went to the window and as I gazed at the snowfall, my terror crystallized, each thought a frozen pattern, powerless to hurt me for the moment. But I had forgotten how many crystals gathered together can form a treacherous place. Monday morning, as I settled on the living room sofa to complete the last of my homework, I saw a police car in front of our house. I spilled my books onto the floor and ran to the kitchen. "Mama!" I could hardly speak. I felt I was to blame for whatever happened next. |