❝Look back, and smile on perils past.❞

— Walter Scott

"It's my turn now!"

Billy's friends were all in his room, fighting for the markers. Pete and Tom were engaged in horseplay while the girls, Lola and Olivia, tried to avoid the rowdy pair.

"Give me the marker!" Tom was jumping high to try to catch the pen Pete was holding high above his head.

"Come on, guys!" Billy was mixed between laughing and sighing, the banter fun, but his leg was painful.

"I wish we could play out," he said as he followed the raindrops against the window.

"You can't play, anyway..." Pete had just told the last word that Lola kicked him.

"You can't say that!" She frowned at the inconsiderate boy.

"It's okay, Lola," Billy laughed. "It's not like I can really do much. The doctor said I'd need to stay home for at least two weeks with the cast."

"When will you get the clutches?" Tom asked lightly. He had found another marker and was drawing on Billy's cast.

Grandpa was standing by the door frame, looking into the bedroom at the children. Finally, he thought. Billy was smiling. It was a great change in the boy who had thought, two days ago, that his life was over. Grandpa had listened to the devastated child, telling his life was ended. And just for a silly cat.

Billy and his friends had been out playing at the park, crossing rivers infested with alligators and racing down the river in a raft, going on an adventure every time he went down the slide and up the monkey bars.

After his flying experience some days before, Billy had wanted to feel the exhilaration again.

When his friends had called Grandpa, all frightened and worried, the old man had expected to hear a wild story, things happening at the park. What transpired through mumbled words, however, was rather trivial. Billy had tripped over an untied shoelace as he was running after his friends.

Adding to the injury and the pain, the boy had felt a shame at the trite accident. Grandpa knew Billy was a strong boy, and he had told him so. This was when the waterwork had started. The child had a bad case of a sprained ankle, and the pain came surfacing with rage.

Looking at Billy now, however, was a relief for Grandpa.

"Kids!" The old man called for their attention, "lemonade and cupcakes are ready for you downstairs."

"The last one is a loser!" Pete shouted, rushing out of the door, avoiding Grandpa in extremis. Tom followed, running, while the girls, laughing at their friends, had a more sedate walk.

"Not fair!" Billy complained. Sure, he would be the last one. What with the cast and crutches.

"Do you need help?" Grandpa asked.

"I'm not a baby, Grandpa! I can walk!"

The old man observed his grandson wobbling on three legs. "You manage the crutches quite well, Billy! I'm impressed..."

"I know, Grandpa," the boy walked carefully, transferring his weight in a steady movement. "You already told me when you broke your hip in a stupid accident..."

"Okay, okay..." Grandpa smiled gently. "Let's go down before your friends end all the cupcakes."

✧✧✧

"Do you want me to clean the office downstairs and set your bed there for the time being?"

Grandpa and Billy were at the dining table. The sun was low on the horizon. The children had stayed late in the afternoon, leaving just before dinner time.

Grandpa was happy for Billy, his grandson was blessed with good friends and bad weather. Because of the rain, the group of boys and girls could not play in the park. He worried a bit about the next day. One of the girls, Lola, the reasonable one among those jokers, had remarked that they most likely would visit tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after next.

"So, what do you have planned for tomorrow?" Grandpa filled Billy's plate with boiled broccoli and grilled fish.

The boy grimaced at the bleak meal. He was impatient for the coming weekend, hoping that Grandpa would not forget to make French fries and perhaps some nuggets.

"I don't know... we'll hang out in my room, I imagine."

"Do you want me to look at the game cupboard?" The old man thought about the board games stored in the ancient armoire. It was a long time since he had opened it. Hopefully, he pondered, the mice would have let its content alone.

"What for?" Billy was really questioning his grandfather's sanity. What would his friends think about old men games?

"I could take out the chess set..."

"I don't think..." the boy could not imagine Pete or Tom sitting and playing chess. Olivia, perhaps...

"How about I go fetch it?" Grandpa had seen the light in Billy's eyes.

"I took your rook! I took your rook!" Billy danced in his chair, happy of the move he pulled on Grandpa. He was far from winning the game, but he had lured the white rook with his bishop, and a simple black pawn had eaten the horse figure.

Grandpa was amused by the picture of the young boy, serious and focused on the game. His grandson was growing up and getting independent, preferring to play with friends than learn new secrets from his grandfather.

"Why don't you try to play chess with your friend, tomorrow?"

"Are you crazy?" Billy sounded horrified at the idea, "they will think I'm a no-life nerd!"

"Aren't nerds, or geeks, in these days?" Grandpa enjoyed teasing the boy. "Then, how about you spend the afternoon in the home office? There are many books there. You could enjoy a quiet afternoon..."

The old man's restraint proved phenomenal. He remained stoic, only his eyes twitching slightly. He so wanted to laugh out loud seeing Billy's face contorted in a mix of horror and shame. He really enjoyed the time he spent with his grandson. There was so much life in the boy.

"What will my friends... Oh! I see you, Grandpa," he added with a whine, "you're playing me! That's not fun, you know." The boy pouted for a second or two.

"What is the matter, Billy?" Grandpa had seen the pout transforming into concern. "Is your foot hurting? Do you want me to help you to your bedroom? It is almost bedtime, anyway..."

"No, it's okay Grandpa, we can continue to play."

The chess game went on, and, unsurprisingly, Grandpa won it. Competitively, Billy asked for another game. He wanted to win, at least once. Grandpa never let him win, he always played seriously. Billy liked it, but sometimes he wondered if he would be good enough to claim his king.

"Grandpa?"

The old man, his hand stopped midway across the chessboard, cocked his eyebrows. The silence set for a short moment, Billy struggling to find the words he wanted to ask.

"Is it true that I will never walk correct again?" The boy's voice was low and shaky.

"What is this about?" Grandpa tried to remain calm and to get Billy to explain.

"I don't want to have a lame leg..." The boy kept his head low as if defeated by the idea.

"Why would you have a lame leg?" Grandpa softly asked. 

"When you have a cast on your leg, it never goes back okay," Billy affirmed.

"Who told you that?" The old man pondered which of his friend could have said so. They were not a bunch of sententious kids, nor kin to prank with some painful joke like telling the boy he would never walk well again. What could have happened?

"Olivia."

The name hanged in the air between Billy and his grandfather. Grandpa did not expect it. Olivia was a quiet girl, smart and shy. She would not utter nonsense if she did not believe it.

"Why did Olivia, exactly?" He asked the boy.

Billy thought back at the few words his friend had said before Grandpa had taken him to see the doctor. The tears were in her eyes and she had been fighting to keep them from flooding her face. "Maybe you broke it," she softly repeated, as if she was talking to herself, "maybe you'll walk bad after. " She then nodded her head and added with certainty, "you'll go lame on the leg."

Grandpa was imagining the scene, the quiet girl frightened for her friend, not realizing how her words could hurt Billy. Then, he remembered her father. After a car accident, the man had a bad injury, broken bones in many places. He went many times through surgery, one after another, but he never get back the full control of his movement. He now walked with the support of a brace on his leg and a cane on his hand.

"I don't think you will have a problem walking again," Grandpa started to explain to Billy. He told him about the difference between broken bones and sprained ankle, insisted that what he really needed was the rest, for his foot as well as for him, and to keep his morale up. He also went into details about what the boy would have to expect after the cast would be removed. He would not be able to run easily, at first, but as he was still young and still growing, things would settle with time.

Billy took a minute, at most, to process the information. His usual self resurfaced soon enough, and the rest of the evening went on with banter and laugh, Grandpa winning all the chess games even when Billy tried to cheat by switching the position of the pieces on the board.

✧✧✧

"Do you want to play chess?"

It was almost a week since Billy's ankle was in a cast. The rain had let down a few days before and Billy spent most of his time looking through the window, his mood down and itching for a fight with Grandpa.

The old man had tried many suggestions, from board games to reading, from cooking to sitting on the porch. The boy was heartbroken. His friend had forgotten him, not visiting anymore now that it was sunny to organise playdates on the park.

Pete had suggested to Billy to join them, but he realised it would be boring, not being able to join in the fun, the races, the fights... the fun. He felt like his friends had abandoned him, discarded him and totally forgotten about his existence. Billy was drowning in melodrama, and Grandpa was at his wits' end. What could he do to raise his grandson's mood? He pondered about it for some time until he decided to force Billy to listen to reason.

Billy was now able, though slowly, to walk longer distances with his crutches. Grandpa had taken him for a visit to the bookstore and the library, where he asked the boy to pick some books and games. Billy had chosen a puzzle, two comic books and an encyclopaedia of dinosaurs. The books were yet to be opened, the puzzle remained packed in its bag and the dinosaurs had entertained the boy for an hour top. Since this shopping trip, Billy had talked little with his grandfather.

"Will you let me win, for once?" The boy asked with a small smile. He was not happy that his friends were not coming to see him, but he realised he was not fair to Grandpa. "How about we play, but you can't use your queen and you get only half of the pawns? Perhaps I could win this way?" He liked to see Grandpa's eyes lighting. He would agree with the old man, he decided. This way Grandpa's teasing would be back and they could have fun again. And perhaps, Billy thought, his ankle would heal faster.

Strong with his decision, Billy and Grandpa shared an afternoon full of laughter and joyful teasing. They fell back into their routine, cooking the dinner together, cleaning the dishes and discussing many things before bedtime. The inquisitive mind of the young boy always surprised Grandpa. They talked about dinosaurs and agreed that the world would be quite different if some were still alive, Billy bringing many possibilities of what it would be like to cohabitate with the ferocious creatures.

Going through his bed routine—brushing teeth, cleaning up, getting into his pyjama—Billy remembered the book Grandpa had given him when he arrived. Where was it now? He decided to look around the bedroom and to give it a try. After all, if Grandpa had like that book, it should be interesting. What was the story about, already? Billy recalled some knight and a dragon. Yes, he thought, it was a knight fighting a dragon. He would still read it, he nodded to himself, even though he did not like this kind of stories.

Settling in his bed for the night, Billy opened the book on the first page.

"Once upon a time, in a far far away kingdom, a great peril loomed. The King had called for all the knights to help fight the great dragon..."

That is exactly what he had feared, Billy thought, a lame story about a knight fighting a dragon. Why books for children were always lame like that? The boy shrugged his shoulder and continued his reading. Perhaps something unusual would happen?

"... and the Black Knight travelled forth to the dragon's lair. When he arrived at the location, he heard something unusual and quite terrifying. Petrified, the Black Knight gazed upon the charred body of a giant lizard. The dragon stood beside it, blood all over its long neck. But what frightened the man was not the smouldering pile or even the monster he had been sent to fight. What made locked him in terror was the sight of a roaring T-Rex, a giant dinosaur, a beast from another time..."

Things were gettinginteresting, Billy thought with a big smile and anticipation as sleep wasclaiming him.