“There’s a tiny hairline stress fracture in the fifth metatarsal. It didn’t show up on the X-ray, but we got it on the MRI.” The doctor looked back and forth between Danny and his mom.

“He got this just by running?”

The doctor nodded at Danny’s mom. “Yes. He may have weakened it in the game yesterday, but these small fractures usually present with something as seemingly harmless as running.”

“So, it’s small,” Danny’s mom said. “That’s good, right?”

“These things usually heal up in six to eight weeks with rest,” the doctor said.

Danny’s mom brightened. “Six weeks! So you’ll be back for the big game, Danny. Maybe a few weeks before. You’ll be rested for the last part of the season. We’ll make lemonade out of lemons.”

“Okay, so that would be the best-case scenario,” the doctor said. “Let’s not count on six weeks, though, because everyone is different.”

“Even eight weeks won’t be the end of the world.” Danny’s mom was almost silly with joy. “The championship’s in nine. It’s part of Danny’s grand plan.”

“I know about the game, but the issue with this type of injury is rest. He’s got to keep the weight off the foot until it’s healed.”

The doctor wrapped Danny’s foot in a compression bandage. He took a deep breath and looked at Danny sternly while talking to his mother. “If he doesn’t keep off that foot and follow the RICE protocol, he may never fully recover.”

Danny felt his stomach plunge. The paper on the exam table crinkled beneath his weight as he squirmed.

Danny’s mom furrowed her brow. “Rice? What rice?”

“The nurse will explain.” The doctor patted Danny’s leg and stood up. “The lemonade is that even in the worst-case scenario, he will be able to walk.”

Danny’s mom put a hand on the doctor’s arm to keep him from going. “Walk? Not run?”

“If it doesn’t heal—but I expect it will; more times than not it does—but if it doesn’t heal, then running would just be too painful. We’ll get you some crutches, Danny, and you really need to stay off the foot completely for the next five weeks. You can do some light leg machines in a week to keep your tone. We’ll get another MRI in five weeks and see where we’re at. Hopefully you’ll walk out of here.”

The doctor looked at them with a forced smile. He seemed eager to get away. “Okay, you can make an appointment at the desk. Come back in five weeks. And I can’t say it enough, stay off that foot.”

As soon as the doctor had gone and closed the door, Danny’s mom began to weep. She put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him to her.

“Oh, Danny,” she moaned.

“Mom, I’m okay. It’s gonna be fine.” Danny wriggled free just as the nurse came into the room with the crutches.

The nurse explained that RICE meant rest, ice, compression from the wrapping, and elevation. She adjusted the crutches to fit Danny. His mom pretended to study a chart with a gruesome drawing of a knee and all its inner parts as the nurse showed Danny how to use the crutches.

“Now, these are going to make you sore under your arms at first,” the nurse told Danny, “but you’ll get used to them. You may start to feel better soon, but please remember you need to keep all your weight off this foot until the doctor clears you.”

She gave him instructions about icing his foot often for the next two weeks.

“Yes, ma’am, I got it.” Danny made himself sound cheerful as he swung himself toward the door. “Come on, Mom. Thank you, ma’am. See you in five weeks.”

Danny’s mom spoke in a low, pained voice to the woman at the desk who made the appointments. Danny was the one who accepted the paper appointment card from her and thanked her. They got in the car and his mom began crying again, just softly this time. Danny turned his head to the window and hunkered down for the long ride home.

When they finally did get home, his mom sat at the kitchen table and put her head down into her folded arms.

“Mom, you gotta stop. It’s gonna be fine.” Danny could barely speak, he choked so on his words.

She held her head up and looked at him with dark, tear-stained makeup running down her cheeks. “That’s just what your father said. Every time. You . . . you just sounded so much like him. . . .”

Danny’s face went still. His heart felt like it had exploded in his chest, and rage began to boil up into his brain.

“Shut up!” he screamed, and it was as if it was someone else was screaming. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

He swung his crutch like a flipper. The lamp on the stand next to the couch shattered. The light bulb popped in a blue flash.

“Danny!” his mother yelled. Danny got down the hall and into his room before striking the door with the same crutch. It slammed shut as his mom screamed again at him from the kitchen. “You come back here! Daniel, you come back here this instant!”

He heard her loud and clear and he shouted through the door, “No!”