* * * * *

  It had been a small ordeal waiting for the police to file a report and also John’s father to arrive at the scene of the accident. In the end, it had been decided not to take John to the hospital for the pain in both of his knees that had been thrust up against the steering wheel. But, though John’s father Jim was worried about his son, John had insisted that he just wanted to go home as soon as they could.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Jim McLean asked his son one final time as they returned to their house.

  “I think so, Dad. I’ll let you know if I feel any worse later.” John returned to his room upstairs, but he was no longer able to do his homework. Instead, he stared at the photo on his desk of the little blue heron that he had photographed that morning. Seeing the photo made John feel even more upset than he had been when he entered his bedroom. He wouldn’t cry, but he was really upset.

  Why ever did I take Mia to the mall? He thought to himself, but he knew it wasn’t Mia’s fault what had happened, and he shook the thought away. He was lucky to be ok, he reminded himself, and he didn’t want to think any negative thoughts right now. One of his parents would have to collect Mia from the mall soon, he realized. The only working car left was their father’s car, though Mrs. McLean’s car had only incurred minor damage in the accident. It would still have to be in the shop for a few days.

  When Mia came home, she was full of all kinds of questions about what had happened. John heard his father talking to her in the kitchen from a distance.

  “Yes, Mia, your brother is all right.” He reassured her.

  A minute later, Mia came up the stairs and entered John’s bedroom. She approached, sat down on his bed, and hugged her brother really hard.

  “I hope you’re feeling all right, John,” she offered.

  “I’ve been better, but don’t worry about me, Mia.” Said John. “I’ll be better soon, I think.”

  A week passed. John suffered all week acute pain in his knees but refused to go to a doctor at first. In the end, he agreed under pressure from his parents to make an appointment to go. An x-ray revealed that John had a tiny crack in his fibula bone in one leg, but the pain wasn’t coming from that, but from the minor swelling above his knee caps. The cartilage in his knees had been damaged slightly, but thankfully, his knees didn’t require any surgery. John was given an anti-inflammatory, and told to ice his knees regularly. Also, he had to curtail any physical activity for a while his fibula healed, but it didn’t require a cast as it had already started to heal.

  In the end, though, John’s knees took months to heal. In the meantime, John wasn’t able to go exploring in the marshes in the mornings anymore, and he didn’t feel like driving anywhere either, so he started to feel a bit stir-crazy at the house being stuck there all of the time. He spent a lot more time on the internet, and also spent more time drawing as school let out and the summer began. Moreover, the intense heat of a Florida summer kept the children pretty much indoors, except on days when they went to the community swimming pool, or out shopping. The summer passed quickly, and the family was only gone for a week on a trip to Miami for vacation.

  “What’s up?” said Mia, coming into John’s bedroom one afternoon near the end of summer.

  “Nothing.” Said John, who was sitting at his desk drawing a wolf’s face. He put his pencil down and stopped to turn around to talk to Mia.

  “Come on a walk with me,” said Mia. “You haven’t had any exercise in months. Your knees will be all right.”

  “Mia, I don’t—“

  “Come on, John. Just around our neighborhood for a bit maybe.”

  “Ok.”

  “Bring your camera, too.” She said.

  * * * * *

  An hour later, Mia had persuaded John to take her to the wetland marshes, to show her where he used to go to take most of the pictures on his wall. John and Mia were walking at the edge of the marsh, when a little blue heron flew close and landed not far away. Mia was amazed and was about to open her mouth and exclaim, but John shushed her.

  “She’s foraging,” he whispered. “It looks like it might be the same bird I saw this spring.”

  “Wow, she’s beautiful,” said Mia. “I never saw a bird that blue before.”

  “Yep,” said John, passing his camera over to Mia. “Here, your turn to take a picture.”

  “Who, me?” Mia said, taking the camera. “Well, all right, I guess I can give it a try.”

  And Mia took a few pictures before the heron flew off.

  “I didn’t tell you how sorry I was that you were hurt the day you dropped me off at the mall, John.” Said Mia, as they turned to head home.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” said John. “I haven’t been driving long, and I was surprised by the dog running in front of me. That could have happened anywhere, at any time.”

  “I know, but I felt guilty about your getting hurt.”

  “Oh, Mia.”

  “Well, I am glad you seem better today. It was about time you got out again. Thanks for taking me out here. I had a good walk.”

  They reached the house again, and John went up to look at the photos Mia had taken of the little blue heron. The photos were really good, and John decided to do a pencil drawing of one of them. He framed it the next day and gave it to Mia as a present.

  “Signed by yours truly,” said John, as he stood in Mia’s doorway, and he handed her his framed drawing.

  “Aw, thanks.” Said Mia. “You’re a good artist,” she said. “I’ll put it on my desk, too. John, how are your knees?”

  “Better. I think I’ll go on a run tomorrow morning to see if they’re good as new, since it won’t be summer holidays for much longer.”

  “Can you teach me to draw like you do?” asked Mia, who looked up to John a lot, though she sometimes still fought with him. Mia was a sweet person, who didn’t much complain or fight without a reason, but she was stubborn and funny, and John loved her.

  “I don’t know, I never tried to teach anyone how to draw. But I guess I can try, sometime.”

  “Thanks,” said Mia with a smile. “You’re the best brother I could ask for.”

  John laughed. “Thanks, sis.” He said.

  The end.

 
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