THE FIRST THINGS HE heard were voices—distant chattering around him, and then the smell of antiseptic hit him, causing him to force his eyes open. He recognized the hospital, gazing warily at the tubes attached to his arm and the heavy cast that weighed his right leg down. Then he remembered the accident.
Panicking, he looked around for his parents. If he was okay, then they had to be too, but all that lay on the neighboring beds were other children, just like him. He chuckled softly to himself, suddenly realizing why. His mother had always said that he was smarter than his age, and the teachers at school agreed with her. They weren't with him; this was the children's ward.
They would be in the ward for adults, getting better.
Relaxing again, he took in his surroundings, hoping that a n
