Free Invaders From Mars by Ray Garton

she said, trying to sound as pleasant as possible to make up for Mrs. McKeltch’s harsh behavior. The woman made her angry, but she held it in, deciding the boy had seen enough anger for one day.
    She led him into the examination room and helped him up onto the cushioned table, taking his hand carefully in hers. The cut was bleeding quite a bit, but it wasn’t bad.
    “I think you’ll live,” she said.
    He looked away, his eyes fixed blankly on a stack of paper towels on the counter by the sink. There were more frown lines on his forehead than seemed fitting for a boy so young.
    “Hey,” Linda said, patting his arm, “don’t worry about her, okay? Mrs. McKeltch, I mean. She’s just . . . like that.” She smiled, but got no reaction. “Okay?”
    He looked at her and nodded, chewing his lip.
    Linda got her tray of supplies and placed it next to David. “You sure get around this place, don’t you?”
    “Yeah. I guess.”
    Dipping a swab into a bottle of iodine, she said, “Now, this stuff stings a little, so watch out, okay?” She gently tended the cut, cautiously watching David’s face for a reaction. But he did not even flinch. In fact, he didn’t even seem to notice the stinging medicine; he was staring blankly again, this time at a picture on the wall across from him. He seemed preoccupied, perhaps even troubled, as if the cut on his hand were the least of his worries.
    “Tough guy, huh?” Linda asked.
    David shrugged, watching as she put a Band-Aid over the cut. He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “So you’re the new nurse, huh?”
    “Oh, that’s right, I never introduced myself. I’m Linda Magnuson.” She took David’s hand in hers and shook it, realizing, as David squirmed in pain and jerked his hand back, holding it to his stomach protectively, that she shook the wrong hand. “David!” Linda gasped, covering her mouth. “I’m sorry, David, really! I’m so sorry.” She touched his arm and leaned forward anxiously, hoping she hadn’t hurt him badly. “Are you okay?”
    A smile slowly grew on David’s face; he seemed touched by her concern. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”
    Brushing aside a few strands of her blond hair, she stepped back. “Good. Well,” she joined her hands before her, “you should probably get back to class.”
    David scooted off the edge of the table and started out of the room, still holding his hand.
    Linda realized that he was moving very slowly. And he was frowning again, head bowed, eyes distant.
    “Hey,” Linda said.
    David turned, looked up at her, and blinked a few times. “Hm?”
    “Is anything wrong, David? Anything bothering you? If there is, I want you to know you can talk to me about it. I’m a good listener.”
    He thought about that a moment, seemed to consider saying something, his lips slightly pursed, his head cocked to one side. Then he shook his head and said, “No. Nothing.”
    “Okay.” She reached down and brushed his bangs from his forehead. “You be careful with that hand now, okay?”
    “I will.” He turned and left the office, closing the door softly.
    Linda gritted her teeth, her anger at Mrs. McKeltch coming back with force. How could she treat children so coldly? Didn’t she think they were human? Didn’t she think they had feelings just like everybody else? Well, Linda thought, everybody, that is, except Mrs. McKeltch. She returned to her desk to make some phone calls.
    Going home on the bus, David was the only passenger who remained totally silent. He peered out the window, wondering what he would find at home, wondering if Dad would still be there, if he would be better or . . . what if Mom started acting strange like Dad? David immediately rejected the thought, wanting to deal with only one problem at a time.
    “What the heck’s your problem?” Doug asked.
    “Huh?”
    “What’s your problem? You mad or something?”
    “Oh, no.” David shook his head.
    “Then how come you’re