Three days after Sean had woken from his mysterious coma, the hospital declared him recovered and allowed him to go home, though they cautioned he should take it easy for a week or so to make sure there were no lingering effects. His mom was happy to bring him his favorite outfit – chamo pants, a black t-shirt, a khaki short-sleeved jacket with lots of pockets, and a newsie cap – and wheel him out to the car in a wheel chair, just to be safe. Although he was feeling well enough to walk on his own, he obediently rose in the chair. It didn’t hurt anything, and it made his mom feel better.

One the way home his mother chattered constantly at him, as if trying to make up for the week he’d been away. “Since the school year is almost over anyway, the school has agreed you can stay home for the rest of the semester,” she told him. “Some of your teachers are waiving the final, and others will send it as a take-home test, and you can take all the time you need to finish.”

“That’s nice of them,” Sean said. He’d been doing pretty well in school anyway, so it was likely most of his teachers felt they could give a fair assessment of his knowledge without the need for one more test. He listened politely as his mom kept talking about how the family had been doing, who had called to check in on him, and other things he’d missed while at the hospital. She didn’t seem to need him to respond, just to know he was there and well, so he smiled, nodded, and made occasional comments to show he was listening.

He did notice that she never mentioned his illness – if that’s what it even was – at all. Perhaps the idea was still too painful for her. Sean kept thinking about it though; the events right before he’d passed out, the conversation with Shelley, the circumstances around the whole thing. It was all very strange, and he felt there was something about the situation that he was missing, but had no idea how to find it out.

Once they reached the house, he let his mom hold his arm and carry his backpack as they entered. He was feeling perfectly fine, until they stepped inside and his legs were almost knocked out from under him.

“You’re back!” shrieked an excited young voice a moment before something barreled into his legs and grabbed hold. It seemed he was still a bit unsteady on his feet, and would have lost his balance at the enthusiastic assault. Only his mom’s grip on his arm kept him from toppling over.

Once his mom had pulled him back upright, he looked down at the small girl clinging to him. “Hi Sophie. It’s good to see you too,” he told his little foster sister.

A small face framed in messy brown hair looked up at him. “You wouldn’t wake up!” she informed him. “They said you were sick and they didn’t know when you’d wake up.”

He smiled down at her. “I didn’t know when I’d wake up, either,” he said. “But I’m up now. Look, I’m even walking. I’ll show you.” He wiggled his legs, trying to give her a hint that she should let go now.

She didn’t watch it. “I wasn’t scared,” she stoutly informed him, though the way her face grew pinched suggested otherwise. “But mom was, and I thought you might be. So I brought Kitty to help you feel brave.”

Sean nodded solemnly at her. “Yes, thank you for letting me borrow Kitty. He really helped me feel a lot better. Here.” He reached over to the bag his mom was holding, unzipped the main pocket, pulled out a stuffed cat, then held the toy out to her. “Now that I’m all better, you can have him back.” As he’d hoped, Sophie released her death grip on her legs to take back her prized toy, leaving Sean free to walk again.

His mom took a more direct approach at dealing with the leg-limpet. “Careful Sophie, it’s not a good idea to run into people like that, especially someone who’s been sick or hurt. You could have knocked him over and gotten him hurt again. You understand?” The little girl’s eyes grew wide and she nodded, holding her toy tightly. “Good. Now Sean,” she said, turning to her son and holding out his backpack, “Why don’t you head up to your room and unpack. Sit and rest as much as you need. I’ll get started on dinner.” He nodded, took his bad, and went to his bedroom.

There wasn’t much in the back to unpack, mostly a few books and some spare clothes. And a piece of paper. Sean looked over the scrap of notepaper with some contact information. His conversation with Shelley had shed a little more light on his situation, but there was a lot that was still a mystery. He was still glad for what she could tell him, though it probably wasn’t something his mom needed to hear. He’d certainly tell her is she asked, but he thought it might just make her worry more, so he didn’t want to volunteer the information. There wasn’t much he could do about it anyway. But he did want to keep hold of this contact information, just in case. He looked around for a safe place to put it, and finally tucked it into a shoebox of keepsakes: crayon drawings from foster siblings, photos with friends, things like that. He should be able to find it there if he needed it.

Then he went to grab a book, sit down and read for a bit. It seemed he was still a bit weak, because just the little bit of walking and unpacking was starting to tire him out. It was just as well he didn’t have to go back to school for the end of the year.