Bringing the Light

5. Stephen Jacob

"Hi Stephen," the lady in the office said.

Mr. Graham had come to my desk and knelt down beside me. He was talking very quiet so the rest of the class couldn't hear.

"Can I talk to you out in the hallway for a minute?" He asked. He didn't sound mad or anything, but I sure wasn't going to chance it. I nodded.

I got up and followed Mr. Graham out into the hallway.

"I'm going to be just outside and I have very good hearing so no funny business," Mr. Graham said as we went to the door. I kept my head down, ready to hear what I did wrong.

Mr. Graham knelt in front of me and kept the classroom door partly open. He talked to me in a soft voice.

"Stephen, Mrs. Racicot said you had a bit of a fall this morning when your mom's boyfriend dropped you off. Is that true?"

"Yes, sir," I said. "I tripped and fell out of his truck."

"That's a pretty far fall for a small kid like you. Are you okay?"

"Yes, sir," I said. "I'm alright."

He didn't look like he believed me.

"Stephen, I want you to give me five," he said, putting out his hand. I lifted my right hand.

"With your other hand," he said.

"Why? I'm right handed," I said.

"Humour me," he said.

I couldn't lift my left hand.

"Stephen, what's wrong with your arm?"

"Nothing," I said. Technically that was true. It wasn't my arm that had a problem.

Mr. Graham put his hand on my shoulder and I cried out in pain.

"Stephen! What happened? Your shoulder is swollen." 

He moved the collar of my shirt, which didn't feel good, either.

"Stephen! Your shoulder is purple! What happened?!"

"I fell," I said. "I was playing soccer and I fell on my shoulder. It's okay. It's better." 

"Stephen, it looks broken." He said. "Have you seen a doctor?"

"No. My mom said it's just sprained," I said.

"You need to see the nurse," Mr. Graham said.

"No!  I mean, no. It's okay. I need to be more careful when I play soccer. And I just need to ice it more."

"Stephen, you are seeing the nurse. I'm taking you there myself. This does not look good at all."

He opened the classroom door wider and looked inside.

"I'll be back in a few minutes. Everyone stick to your work. I'll be asking Ms. Price from next door to keep an eye on you lot," Mr. Graham said.

He then took my hand, my right one, and knocked on the door to the next classroom. Mr. Tiberas answered.

"Hi, John. I have an injured student I need to take to the nurse. Can you let me borrow your student teacher to keep my guys in line?" He asked.

"Sure, Ms. Price, could you go next door?"

She nodded and smiled at me as she left the classroom. Mr. Graham pulled me along down the hall.

"I'm okay, Mr. Graham. Really. It's just sprained. I'll be more careful."

"Stephen, that shoulder is broken. How do I know? I've broken my shoulder before. You can't move your arm, your hand is cold and your shoulder is purple. Like it or not, you're having it checked."

I didn't argue anymore. It wouldn't do any good. But I was really going to get it tonight when I went home.

Mr. Graham knocked on the door to the nurse's room and opened the door. She was at her desk, writing something.

"Hello, Kevin. Hi there, Stephen. What brings you here today?" She smiled. The nurse was nice. I liked her. I also liked not seeing her. Mommy was going to be so mad.

"I need you to take a look at Stephen's left shoulder. I mean, from there you can probably see the swelling. I think it's broken. His hand is cold, his shoulder is purple and he can't move his arm."

The nurse frowned and stood up.

"That doesn't sound good. Stephen, does your shoulder hurt?"

"No," I lied. "Not really."

"He cried out in pain when I touched it," Mr. Graham said.

"Okay. Stephen, can I get you to take off your shirt? I need to see your shoulder," the nurse said.

"No!" I said. I couldn't take off my shirt.

"Stephen," Mr. Graham said. "We can do this the east way or the hard way."

"Kevin," the nurse said. "We will not be doing anything any way. Stephen, in order to see your shoulder properly, I'm going to need you to take off your shirt. I know you might be uncomfortable, but if your shoulder really is broken, we need to get a good look at it."

I tried to hold back the tears that threatened.

"I don't want to," I said.

"I understand. But if we don't make sure it's not broken, you could wind up having a lot of problems with your arm. Permanent problems."

"Like what?" I challenged.

"Well, your hand is cold, which means there might not be enough blood getting to your arm and hand. And if so, your arm could make you very sick. And if it's broken, and it doesn't heal properly, you could lose the ability to use that arm at all."

I thought about that. It hurt. A lot. But not being to ever use it again? That didn't sound good, either.

I sighed and tried to pull my shirt off. The nurse was very gentle and helped me. She couldn't hide the look on her face when she saw my shoulder. And my front.

"Oh, Stephen," she whispered.

"You need to see his back," I heard Mr. Graham say. The nurse turned me around and gasped.

"Stephen. Who did this to you?"

I didn't answer. Mommy would be mad if I told.

"Stephen?" Mr. Graham asked. "Did your mom or her boyfriend do this to you?"

I still didn't answer. I tried not to cry. My secret was out.