Resilient by Patricia Vanasse Page B

breakfast tray.
    “Sorry to wake you up. I brought you some food along with your medications,” he says, putting the tray on my bed, filled with milk, two eggs with cheese, and toast. He gives me my meds and the glass of milk. I take the pills but I give him the food tray back. 
    “I don’t want to be stuck in my room all day. I can come down and have breakfast with everyone.” Dad shakes his head, and I protest, “It doesn’t even hurt that bad anymore.”
    “I’ll tell you what. You eat your breakfast in here and you can come down for lunch. You need to rest as much as possible, and coming downstairs right now is an unnecessary effort.”
    “Deal.” I suppose I can wait if it makes him feel better. 
    He leaves when he sees that I’m eating. I scarf it all down, even though I’m not hungry. I know my parents will feel better if they think my appetite hasn’t changed. As I set the tray aside, I notice that the pain in my leg has receded from deep in my bones to just an ache up in my shin. These meds must be strong. 
    I’m able to go to the bathroom on my own as long as I keep my weight on my good leg. I brush my teeth, wash my face, and drag myself back to bed.
    I open my laptop and I write Alyssa a long e-mail, emphasizing how much I miss her and that I hope she can visit soon, maybe over fall break. I watch a couple episodes of my favorite TV show after that, drifting in and out until I end up falling asleep. 
    Three hours later I wake again, and this time I manage to change clothes on my own. I put on running shorts and a t-shirt, which are really the only things I can get on without too much trouble. I need to go downstairs or I’ll go insane, locked up all day in this bedroom. 
    “Oh my God!” Dad shouts from the first floor when he sees me coming. “Livia, what are you doing?” He rushes up to meet me.
    “Don’t worry, Dad, I feel a lot better. Those must be some crazy meds.”
    “It will hurt if you don’t rest, Livia. It’s trying to heal and you need to be patient.” Dad puts my arm over his shoulder and supports me as I limp down the stairs. “Don’t you do that again.”
    He has no idea. I’ve moved my leg in every direction and position that this cast allows, and I feel no real pain at all. 
    “Your mom had to go take the boys to update their vaccines,” he continues. “When she gets back and hears about this…”
    “Then don’t tell her, Dad.” 
    When we reach the bottom of the stairs, the doorbell rings. He takes me to the couch in the media room, props my leg on the ottoman, and goes for the door.
    Not a moment later, he calls to me, “Livia? You have a visitor. I’ll let you two chat.” 
    Kyle strides into view, thanks my dad, and sits down next to me on the couch. “I heard what happened, so I came to see how you were doing.” He points to my cast. “Does it hurt?”
    “No, not right now,” I say. 
    He nods and then keeps his head down, his tone low. “I also want to apologize for the way I acted at the party. I was a jerk.”
    “It’s not me you should be apologizing to.” 
    Kyle nods his head in agreement. “I know. Adam and I are going through a rough patch.” He looks at me and grimaces—his emotions are totally sincere. “I don’t think he’ll forgive me. I broke his trust.”
    “You should talk to him. He might not be as angry as you think.” 
    He shrugs and laughs a little, like he’s surrendering. “I’ll stop by his house when I leave here.”
    Kyle ends up staying over for lunch and eating pizza with Dad and me. I watch him while he and Dad talk about the high school football team. His emotions are quite calm—he doesn’t have the extreme highs and lows of most people our age. Somehow, Kyle has his under control.
    *                            *                              *
    Before Kyle leaves, he promises to come back for a round of pool with my dad. He’s not gone for five minutes before Mom and