During the second week of Kyle's stay in the hospital, he'd had schoolwork sent to him. He'd done it very unwillingly and only during the moments when his mother sat with him and watched him work. There was little motivation for him to bother with papers and worksheets, and his mother knew that, but he must still keep up his normal routine if life was going to reflect what it had been before the accident.

When Kyle got back home, though, he was more than a little reluctant to go back to school. He complained every day about having to return.

Jack didn't really see his brother; Kyle kept himself in his room except for meals, when Mrs. Kemper forced him to come out and eat at the table. Then Jack would have to look at the wheelchair. He'd have to see his brother's useless, limp legs, which were no longer wrapped up as if he was a mummy. He'd have to endure the absence of Kyle's smile. Which was how it was going to be every single day when Kyle went back to Webster Day School.

Jack dreaded his brother's return to school just about as much as Kyle himself did. Kids would be different around his twin, Jack somehow sensed. Without knowing it, they'd guard their words and get anxious around him. They'd try to act the same as they always had, but they'd be unable to. It would be different. And Kyle would know it. He'd act different in return. Whether his close friends would remain as such would be determined the first day Kyle got back to school. It was like a test.

When their mother dropped them off, Kyle was extremely self-conscious. He hadn't talked to Jack during the drive. He'd been sullen and disagreeable. His mother knew this. Understood it. But knew her son would have to get over it. Her goal since discovering Kyle's life had been changed forever was to try to make it remain as similar to what it had been as she could. She knew the adjustment would be difficult. Just as hard for her. Just as hard for the family. But a mother must be strong.

Jack was out of the car before Kyle. They had an SUV, and he was in the front, next to his mother. Kyle was in the back seat; usually he was the one to leap from the car first, fresh and ready to be with his friends, but today, he realized with a pang of terrible defeat, his body wouldn't physically let him.

There was one other boy in the school who had a wheelchair, but he had been disabled since birth. A sixth grader. What's it like? Kyle had always wanted to ask the kid. What's it like to not feel your legs? Now he knew all too well. No pain. No movement. No pressure. Just nothing. Like they weren't there at all. The only time he knew they were even there was when he had to lift from one place to another, like now, as he shifted down from the car into his wheelchair with his mother's help. Because then he felt their weight. Like some sandbags underneath him. And it was so strange. It was almost as if, after two weeks, he couldn't remember what it felt like to feel them. To walk. To run. To stand. To kick a ball. Like when you have the flu and can't quite recall what it feels like to be healthy. You don't remember knowing what a safe stomach feels like. That's how it was. Kyle couldn't remember what it felt like to have legs.

"I can do it!" he angrily snapped at his mother.

"Honey . . ." Mrs. Kemper began, but then she let go of Kyle's chair and allowed him to back away from the car on his own. She slammed the door and started to follow him and Jack as they made their way toward the building.

Looking over his shoulder, Kyle stopped moving. He'd gotten used to how his wheelchair worked. The doctors had made certain of that during his physical therapy in the hospital. He hadn't needed much of it. Only his legs weren't working. Everything else turned out fine. But he still would have to have physical therapy appointments twice weekly.

"Mom!" he said in furious annoyance when his mother caught up to him. "I said I'm fine. I don't want you to come in. I can do it myself."

Mrs. Kemper frowned. Kyle had been disagreeable at home, but she figured he wouldn't mind her going into the school building with him. "Kyle, I wanted to get you to your first class all right. I have to go in, anyway, to see the principal. I've already called and set up an appointment."

He was mad. "Fine," he muttered. "But don't walk with me. I can take care of myself." His voice wavered, but he turned back around with a look of determination on his face. His mother was stunned, but she figured it was good for Kyle to go in on his own. She stayed behind while Jack looked briefly to her with an expressionless face, then hurried to catch up with his twin. He reached Kyle just as he was getting to the bottom of the ramp. Because of the disabled sixth grader, there had been an elevator and wheelchair ramps installed at the building some years ago.

Jack saw that it was difficult for his brother to move up the ramp. More difficult to go uphill than Kyle had first thought it would be. Instinctively, Jack went to the back of the wheelchair and took hold of the handles and helped push. Kyle said something, but he was slightly out of breath. Jack didn't hear him. When they reached the top of the ramp, he knew that whatever Kyle had said, it hadn't been "thank you."

Kyle's face was red with anger. "Don't ever touch it again!" he huffed, looking up at Jack with wet eyes. "I can do it myself!"

"But . . . I was trying to help," Jack said in weary shock.

"Just shut up and don't talk to me. Not here, not in class. Never!"

"But—"

"I mean it, Jack. Don't even look in my direction. I don't want to see your face or hear you talk. Leave—me—alone!"

Jack wanted to say something, but at that moment, the building door opened. A parent came out. Held the door open for Kyle so he could move inside.

The door swung shut. Jack stood staring at it. He felt a breath catch in his chest. Going into the building suddenly seemed an impossible thing. How could he go into that place filled with people who didn't like him? He'd never cared before. Kyle had been there. He'd been safe because of Kyle. But now even his brother hated him. He couldn't go inside.

Then his mother was next to him. Her hand was on his shoulder. He felt relief, and they entered the building together.

School did not go well. It did not pass quickly. Getting through a week of it felt more like getting through a year. To both boys. To Kyle, who realized fast that his friends were not going to be the same. They were going to step lightly around him. Not ignore him, but not treat him as they had before, either. It was almost as if they were scared of him. The teachers knew, Mr. and Mrs. Kemper knew, that it would just take time for them to get used to the idea of a non-walking Kyle. But Kyle didn't understand that, and he was terribly disheartened by Friday. He blamed his schoolmates' reactions on his brother. Though he didn't directly voice his blame, Jack felt it like he could feel too-hot soup burn his tongue.

School was hard for Jack, too. He'd never been liked, but now he felt loathed. It was as if the other students blamed him as well. For taking their Kyle away. The most likable of all of them. The old Kyle was gone, and they resented it as they would resent the loss of their own happiness. And while they acted anxious of this new Kyle, they utterly detested Jack. They whispered about him. They looked at him unkindly. They blatantly changed directions if he was coming their way. They had done these things before, but with less animosity.

Maybe Jack had not noticed their avoidance of him so strongly prior to Kyle's accident because he'd always had his brother there. He'd always had the only ally he ever wanted. Kyle had never actively stood up for his twin, but Jack had known that Kyle loved him. Now, he was unsure of what Kyle felt, and because of that, everyone's dislike was more poignant.

That Friday, Kyle came home angry and Jack came home despondent. Neither boy would talk with the other, and neither would speak willingly with their parents. Most of their teachers had called over the course of the week. All of them had said that they feared for Jack's capacity to handle the social aspect of the classroom atmosphere. Like they had all spoken with one another and decided that Jack would do better elsewhere. And that was exactly what the principal voiced in her phone call to Mrs. Kemper that very Friday afternoon. What the other teachers had been reluctant to admit, the principal felt no fear to say. Mrs. Kemper had to sit down to take in some of the cruel comments that had been made toward Jack—things the teachers had heard yet had been unable to stop. The eighth graders clearly blamed Jack for Kyle's accident. There was no doubting it. And now, Jack was not distant at all during class; he was entirely aware of everything going on around him. It was torturing him.

Two things that Mr. and Mrs. Kemper decided upon that evening, while their boys were sleeping: First, they would set up an appointment for Jack to see a doctor immediately. Second, Jack would have to begin anew at a different school.