The Owls gathered on the third floor of the hospital. Most of them had brought gifts. Sarah was going to give Data the old teddy bear she usually kept hidden away in a pocket of her hockey bag. Andy had a copy of The Hockey News. Jesse had a beautiful dream catcher that he wanted to hang from Data’s window to keep away the bad dreams and let in the good ones. Dmitri had a hockey cap from Moscow Dynamo that his cousin, Slava, had given him.

Even Nish was there, holding out his cast as if it were some kind of medal for bravery.

“It’s not plaster,” he said. “It’s some new kind of plastic they developed for space missions. I might even be able to play with it on.”

Nish’s eyes were both black from hitting head first into the side of the car the drunk had been driving.

“You look like you were in a fight with Tie Domi,” Sarah teased.

“I was,” Nish shot back. “And if you think I look bad, you should see him. They got him in a room down the hall. He can’t walk or talk yet.”

It would take more than a couple of black eyes and a broken wrist to shut up Nish.

“Here come Data’s parents!” Jenny whispered urgently.

The Owls fell silent. Mr. and Mrs. Ulmar and their daughter, Julie, came down the hall and turned into the reception area. They looked drained and beaten. But Mrs. Ulmar managed a smile. As soon as she saw them, she walked up and gave Nish a hug. Nish hugged back, using one hand, and turned beet red.

“Larry’s glad you came,” she said. “He’s waiting for you.”

 

“You–look–like–a–raccoon,” Data said when he saw Nish.

“You look like an angel,” Nish shot back.

“Not–yet,” Data said, a weak smile forming. “Not–for–a–long–time…I–hope.”

They gathered in a group around the bed. Data lay on his back, completely still, the halo preventing any motion of his head and neck. It was as if they were staring down at a stranger, not their friend. Travis felt nervous; he didn’t know how to act. Everyone had noticed the way Data spoke, each word like a sentence on its own.

Sarah took charge. She walked to the head of the bed, then kissed her fingertips and gently placed the kiss on her friend’s cheek.

“I brought you someone to keep you company,” she said, holding up the bear.

Data couldn’t turn his head to look, but his eyes moved down so he could see.

“Thanks,” he said.

One by one, the others went up with their gifts and their hellos, and Data seemed pleased each one of them had come.

“Do the screws hurt?” Fahd asked when it was his turn.

“Only–when–I–do–somersaults,” said Data.

Everyone laughed, and it felt, to Travis, like a magic remedy had just taken away the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was still Data, good old Data.

“What can you feel?” Nish asked.

Travis winced. Like Fahd’s question about the screws, this was something everyone wanted to know but no one else had dared to ask.

“Not–much,” said Data. “The–doctor–can’t–tell–how–much–feeling–will–come–back.”

“Will you be able to play again this year?” Fahd asked. The answer to that one was obvious, and as Fahd’s question hung in the air, they all wished he hadn’t asked it.

Data shut his eyes. He couldn’t shake his head to say no. He had to say it out loud.

“I–I guess–not,” he finally said.