Carmen Bonocelli, Will's 12 year old girlfriend, has just attempted to throw Will a long football pass and he has fallen into his mother's Victory Garden trying to catch the ball and cut his head.
“Tell me, is it a deep cut or just a scratch?” I asked.
I felt one of her hands behind my neck as she pulled me over. She stood on her tippy toes and took a good look but didn’t say anything.
“Well, Doctor Bonocelli … what do you see, you little stinker?”
“Hmmm, it looks to me like you’ve got a pretty deep gash on your forehead right by your hair line and it’s bleeding like crazy. We better perform major surgery right away or you’ll probably bleed to death … then I’ll have to go to your funeral all dressed in black with a veil over my face,” now looking right at me, “which would be unfortunate since you’re officially my boyfriend and since I’ve told all my girlfriends that you’re my one and only, which makes it doubly official now that every girl in St. Margaret’s knows how I feel about you, not to mention the rest of the world including all my relatives on two continents and … and I sure as heck don’t like the idea of breaking in a new boyfriend or for that matter even wanting to think about having any other stinky boy in my life other than you, which means William O.” She paused briefly taking a deep breath. “We’ve got to make sure you survive this disaster or I’ll be really upset and … and” her hand went to her eyes to brush away something … another pause, another deep breath.
“Other than all that, I’d say you’re doing just fine.”