This is Only a Test
by David Lubar
Kyle shifted his body slightly, which was no easy task, considering the assortment
of casts and bandages that covered him like some sort of grade-school science-fair
mummy. He groaned. Then he grinned. At least, the expression that appeared on
the visible portions of his lips came close to resembling a grin.
"What?" I asked, looking up from the copy of Sports Illustrated I'd been reading.
I'd brought the magazine for Kyle when I'd come to visit him. Well, I hadn't
brought it far -- I'd picked it up at the hospital gift shop. But it was the thought
that counted. I'd almost gotten him Car and Driver, but I'd figured, given his
recent experience, that wouldn't have been a very good idea.
"I just realized something," he said.
"Don't try to ride a bicycle on a busy highway?" It was a reasonable guess.
That's what had gotten Kyle here in the first place.
"Nope." He shook his head -- as much as anything could shake when it was
wrapped in so much gauze and plaster. "I realized that piece of wisdom yesterday
when I woke up in this fine little bed and breakfast. No, here's what just came
into my semi-functioning brain. Do you know the six scariest words in the
"There will be a test tomorrow?"
Another head shake. "No. Forget school. I'm talking real scary. I'm talking