"We had fun," Judith said noncommittally. There was no point in getting her mother more upset than she was going to be anyway.

"You were gone with the Sorensen boy all day again today, too," Judith’s mother said. "What did you do?"

"Oh, we drove over to Wrightsville," Judith told her parents, "And I registered for the fall term at Hinckley Community College."

What followed was not pretty, but Judith had expected it and was prepared for it. She knew she would have her father on her side, and expected that would help overcome her mother’s expected tantrum.

In the end, her father came through. After Irene’s monologue died down somewhat, and Judith had been able to explain what she planned a little more, he told his daughter, "Your mother may be right that you aren’t up to college work, but I think you have the right to try. Have you planned on how you’re going to pay for this?"

Judith nodded. "I’ve got enough money saved for a semester, and Ken and I talked to the people in the financial aid office. They may be able to help some."

"Don’t spend your savings yet," he said. "We don’t have a lot of money, but I think we can stake you to one semester. If you can pull a ‘C’ average, I think you’ll prove you can handle college level work, and then we’ll see what we can do after that. Is that fair enough?"

"Sure, Daddy. I won’t let you down."

"Norman . . . " Irene said ominously.

Judith’s father let his wife’s implication slide. "If she thinks she can do it, I don’t think we should stand in her way, dear," he said. "I think it was nice of Kenny Sorensen to offer to drive her to college, since he’s going to drive back and forth every day, anyway. It’ll be kind of like going to high school for her, just a longer drive."

Irene stormed from the room in a huff. "Norman Niven, you’re going to be the death of your daughter," she said as she left.

Norman winked at his daughter. Expansively, she winked back at him and said quietly, "I won’t let you down, Daddy!"

He nodded and said, "I know you won’t, Judy."

It was a moment before the hidden meaning of what her father had said hit her: no one but Ken and his family called her "Judy."

Though it was a hot summer evening, Irene made herself a cup of tea to calm herself down. How could Norman do such a thing?

They’d talked about Judith’s going to college several times, and up until now she thought that she had been able to stop that nonsense. Now, all of a sudden, without a word from anyone, Norman and that Sorensen boy had obviously pushed Judith into a rash move.

The Sorensen boy! Every time Judith had overreached herself in the past few months, he was involved! She was getting to the point where she hated to hear his name, for fear of what wild thing Judith was going to do next. If there were only some way that Judith could be weaned away from him . . .

Maybe Judith could be persuaded to get interested in someone else, perhaps someone who wouldn’t cause Judith to do more than she should. It wouldn’t be easy, with Judith seeing the Sorensen boy every day as they drove back and forth to school, but there ought to be a way . . .

Judy kept up a brave front to her parents the first morning Ken drove up to take her to college, but once in Ken’s old Chevy, she let her true feelings show. "I don’t know about this, Ken," she said. "I just hope this will all work out OK."

"No reason why it shouldn’t," Ken told her. "I mean, I’m nervous too, but I don’t think this is going to be anything we can’t handle."

It was a good forty miles from Willow Lake to Wrightsville, where Hinckley Community College was located. Ken and Judy had made the drive to the large, modern campus several times over the past month so they could learn their way around, buy books, and deal with the inevitable paperwork.

Ken and Judy were in the same class that first Monday morning, but after that they split up. Ken had to go to his Principals of Business course, but Judy had the next hour free, and decided to have a cup of coffee in the student union.

The union was set up cafeteria style, and one thing Judy had never quite been able to manage was to handle a cafeteria tray on crutches. As she stood in line, all of a sudden, she realized that Lori wouldn’t be there to help her. The thought scared her; she froze in her tracks while her doubts crashed into reality. Maybe her mother was right after all, she feared. Maybe she could handle the classes, but maybe she couldn’t handle the mechanics of living at college. Maybe this was a mistake, after all.

Somewhere within her, a voice of courage spoke up. Maybe she could just get along without her coffee.

"Can I help you with that?" a funny-sounding voice said from behind her. Judy turned around, to see a short-haired brunette sitting in a wheelchair. "I used to have the same problem when I could still use crutches," the girl said.

It took much less than the hour she had to kill for Judy to become fast friends with Sylvia Ricks. It turned out that Sylvia had been more or less confined to her wheelchair for the last four years because of muscular dystrophy, but now was in her second year at Hinckley. Sylvia had a brusqueness about her that Judy had never encountered in a handicapped person before; it was refreshing, in a way.

"Sure, there’s going to be a few things you’re going to have trouble with," Sylvia advised her. "But there’s almost always some way you can work your way around them."

"I’m beginning to learn that," Judy said.

"You have any problems that start to get you down," Sylvia told her, "They’ve got a handicapped counselor here."

"I hadn’t heard that," Judy said.

"She’s another wheelchair critter, like me. Paralyzed, but she can still kick your tail if you need it. You go and see her sometime."

Judy shook her head. "There’s just so much to get used to. I’ve always felt kind of strange. I mean, in school, I was the only handicapper, and I always felt left out of things."

"Easy to feel that way," Sylvia admitted.

"I’ve started to get over that a little," Judy said. "My boyfriend says the only handicap I have is that I think I’m handicapped."

"Is he?"

Judy shook her head. "You got a good man there," Sylvia said admiringly. "Better not let me get near him."

It was so good to talk with Sylvia! Just knowing that she was there lifted Judy’s spirits immensely. Ken had gone out of his way to make her feel almost normal, and Sylvia taught her that she wasn’t alone, and that there was no need to feel ashamed of being different – not that Sylvia could be ashamed of much of anything.

Sylvia, it turned out, was about as different from Judy as different could be. Where Judy had been shy and reserved, Sylvia smoked, and drank, and swore, and lusted after anything in pants – and occasionally managed to score. She was short, and fat, and sassy, and not very pretty, and despite being on what was admittedly a downhill slide, was determined to wring all of the fun out of life that she could. Judy was happy to know her.

Most of all, by just being there Sylvia taught Judy in almost no time at all that she could cope with problems that Irene had said couldn’t be managed – and it didn’t take having Ken or Lori at hand to deal with them.

That first hour slid by quickly. All too soon, Ken slid into the student union to see the two girls laughing over some of the dumb things they’d seen others do out of pity. He got a cup of coffee and sat down with the two girls. When he finally could get a word in edgeways, he said, "Look, Judy, you’d better get a move on or you’re going to miss your class."

"I think you’d better come with me," she said. "I don’t think you’d be safe with her."

Judy only managed to cross tracks with Sylvia two or three times a week, but the occasional contact kept her spirits up when things got low. As the weeks went by, both Ken and Judy settled into the college life. Ken had a couple of courses he was especially struggling with, but Judy had decided to take a rather general class load that hadn’t been a part of the curriculum at Willow Lake High School, or that she had passed up.

Going to college was such a new idea for her that she had no idea of where she wanted to concentrate her studies. For that matter, she had only recently barely perceived that she could even consider having a career – but now she was beginning to realize that she could. How wonderful a possibility that was!

Her computer course was one of those areas where a door had opened for her. At Willow Lake, the only computer instruction had been in an advanced math class that Judy hadn’t taken, so she had been a little intimidated at first. She thought that, to be fair to her parents, she should take at least a course or two that wouldn’t be too simple.

As it turned out, the computer course was a fairly easy introductory one, and Judy soon found herself outdistancing the class. "They’re really fascinating, Hick," she told Ken one time as he came looking for her so they could drive home.

"I suppose I ought to have taken that course," Ken said. "I guess I’ll have to next semester. I’m really dumb with that kind of thing. You can coach me."

Even the long drives daily each day were fun, as were the continuing workouts, now in the gym at Hinckley instead of the Y at Geneva. On their way home each day, they both were eager to talk about things they’d studied in class. In the mornings, they’d gossip about people they knew, and Ken would talk about what had been happening on the farm.

Ken had been struggling to keep up with his studies, because the farm work was eating up much of his free time. He could see that his father’s leg was improving, but that his general health was going downhill. Day by day, Chet seemed to get thinner and weaker, and never seemed to have much energy. This meant more work thrown at Ken, and Judy often had to coach him in preparation for quizzes as they drove back and forth.

On the weekends, Judy did what she could to help out around the Sorensen farm, even if it wasn’t much at that particular time. "We get into the corn picking, and you’ll be busy," Ken warned her.

As they drove to Wrightsville one morning, Judy had a question to ask. "Hick, would it bother you too much if I went out with someone else, just once?"

Ken shrugged. "Anyone I know, Crip?"

"No, I don’t know him either," Judy responded. "My mother wants me to go out with him. She all but promised that I would. He’s a double amputee, and she thinks I ought to know him. His name’s Tommy Fetzer."

"Don’t know him."

"He’s from Geneva. I don’t know where my mother came up with him."

Ken thought about it. He didn’t like the fact that Judy’s mother was involved, but couldn’t put his finger on the reason why – at least, not enough to make an issue out of it. "I don’t suppose it will hurt," he said. "After all, you wouldn’t want to say I’m the only guy you’ve ever been out with."

"Well, if it’s all right with you, it’s all right," Judy said. "I could get out of it, but going will make my mother happy."

Ken frowned, then smiled. "Just remember one thing," he said.

"What?"

"You can go out with him, Crip, but you’re my special girl."

"I won’t forget that, Hick. After all, you’re my special guy."

Sylvia would have called Tommy Fetzer a "wheelchair critter," but wouldn’t have been impressed enough with him to make a pass at him. In fact, Sylvia would have probably given him a verbal working over that would have removed cheap paint from his hide.

Objectively, Tommy was a handsome enough guy – better looking than Ken, Judy thought. But that was where the attraction ended. Tommy was a year or so younger than she was, and had been very popular in high school, a Geneva High School equivalent of Keith Worden, until he’d piled his car up against a light pole drag racing one night. He’d lost one leg below the knee, the other above. Though he’d been fitted for artificial legs, he said he wasn’t comfortable wearing them; he preferred to sit in his wheelchair, and let his mother drive him around.

Tommy’s mother drove him out to pick Judy up, and they went into town to see a movie. That was all right, Judy guessed, but his mother dropped them off at a hamburger joint for a while, "so they could be alone."

Judy swiftly found herself bored with stories of what a great athlete he’d been (before the accident), or how popular he’d been with the girls (before the accident), or how he used to party all night with his friends (before he piled up his car). Listening to him, Judy wanted to ask if he’d done anything since the accident, but soon realized that it was pointless to ask; the answer would have been "no." To Tommy, his life was effectively ended when the rescue squad scraped him out of his mangled car.

Judy tried to talk to him about how she was going to college, and of the fun she’d had working on the farm and with the church group, but she soon realized that she was talking to a blank wall. Tommy was so self-centered and so lost in self-pity that she couldn’t get through to him. She was vastly relieved when his mother showed up to drive her home.

"The scary thing about it," she told Ken the next Monday as they drove to Wrightsville, "Is that a year ago, I could have understood him. I’d have been happy to go out with him. Now, I just feel sorry for him,"

"I guess that’s what he wants," Ken agreed. "He sounds just like Uncle Ed, after he got shot up in Korea. I never really knew Uncle Ed well, but I’ve sure heard enough stories about him. He wanted everyone to feel sorry for him, and he made sure they knew they should. That’s why Dad wasn’t too hot on you the first time he met you. He was thinking of Uncle Ed, and you’re not like him at all."

Judy nodded in appreciation, and continued her thought. "I mean, I tried to show him that there’s no reason that he has to be like he is. But he wouldn’t listen to me. I mean, really, he’s nowhere as bad off physically as I am, but to look at him, and the way he acts, you’d think he was a lot worse. I almost wish we could introduce him to Sylvia."

"That would be fun to watch while it lasted," Ken agreed. "She may not be able to do much with her legs, but she’d still kick his ass."

"It wouldn’t do him any good," Judy said, shaking her head. "Not while he’s living in the past like he is. I don’t think even Sylvia could get through to him."

When her mother called her to the phone, Judy was reading a textbook on advanced computer languages that she’d borrowed. She was understanding perhaps a third of it, and wishing she had a computer to try some of the things out on; she was sure she could learn more if she did.

The caller proved to be Tommy. "Could we go out again this weekend?" he asked.

Judy didn’t even want to contemplate another boring evening of hearing how great Tommy had been before the accident, and about how hopeless things were now.

Still, the fact that he had called meant that perhaps he had some interest in something that happened after the accident, and Judy felt she owed it to Sylvia to pass a favor on. Perhaps she could get through to him after all. Reluctantly, she agreed to the second date.

"Who was that?" Irene asked.

"Tommy Fetzer," Judy said, a bit disdainfully.

"Why, that nice boy," Irene gushed. "Did he ask you to go out with him again?"

"I’m not sure it’s worth the effort," Judy said, "But yes, we’re going out again."

"Why, that’s wonderful," Irene said. "I thought you’d like him. He seemed to me to be your kind of person."

Judy shook her head. Heaven forbid, she thought, without mouthing the words. I don’t ever want to be that kind of person again.

I thought there was something fishy when you said your mother was involved," Ken commented in the car the next day.

Judy nodded. "I see what she’s up to, now. She didn’t say it in so many words, but I knew what she was saying. I think she thinks that if I got serious about Tommy, he and I could be two housebound invalids she could take care of."

"Are you still going out with him?"

"I promised him I would," Judy shrugged. "So, I guess I’d better. Are you sure there’s not any farm work I can use for an excuse to get out of it?"

"Not this weekend, but we should be picking corn pretty soon."

I mean, I do feel sorry for the guy," Judy told Sylvia after her second date with Tommy. "But he’s hopeless. That date was even worse than the first."

"Don’t waste your time," the wheelchair-bound girl advised. "There’s enough examples around, he ought to have learned something by now. If he hasn’t, you’re not the one to show him."

"But there’s so much I could teach him," Judy protested.

"Sure there is," Sylvia agreed. "But if he’s not going to learn, why bother?"

Judy shook her head. "I mean, I don’t like the guy, but it’s so sickening to see a basically healthy person like him act like that. I know where he’s coming from. I used to feel like that about myself."

"How’d you get over it?"

"I guess I figured out that I wanted to." Judy looked over at Ken, who was playing a video game so the girls could talk privately.

"Well, when this Tommy character wants to snap out of the hole he’s in, there’s no reason why he can’t," Sylvia said. "Look, I’ve been around handicapped a lot more than you have. You get people who won’t help themselves, no matter how much anybody tries. And you got people like us, who learn to live with what they can’t do and try to overcome it. Sure, there’s a lot you could teach him. But, if you can’t get through to him, you’re wasting your breath."

Judy shook her head. "I don’t know why Tommy bothers me so much. I guess maybe it’s because I’ve worked so hard at coming as far as I have." Judy sipped her coffee, and then brought up an idea she hadn’t even mentioned to Ken. "Do you have any idea of what’s involved in becoming a physical therapist?"

"Not off the top of my head," Sylvia admitted. "But there’s people here who can tell you how to find out."

A few days later came a fine fall day, following a hard frost. The sky was blue and cloudless, and the drive home from Wrightsville with Ken had been a riot of autumn color. They took the long way home, so they could have more time to enjoy the perfect weather and the scenery straight from an artist’s brush.

Judy was torn between wanting to stay out and enjoy the beautiful day with Ken, and get home and leaf through the physical therapy textbook she had borrowed. Ken’s mind was in a different area. "We ought to be picking corn any day now, Crip," he said. "I’ll bet Tom’s already out there."

It was later than usual when Ken dropped Judy off at her house, sharing their usual goodbye kiss. Judy slowly went inside, reluctant to leave the glorious day. Her mother met her at the door. "Oh, good, Judith, you’re home," she said. "You had a phone call."

"Who was it, Mums?"

"It was that nice Tommy Fetzer," she said. "He wants to go out with you again this weekend. I told him you’d be happy to. His mother will be picking you up early tomorrow afternoon."

"I’m sorry, Mums," Judy replied. "I can’t do it."

"But Judith," her mother whined, "I promised him you’d go."

"You’d better call him back and unpromise him," Judy said. "Ken and I have something planned."

"Why, Judith," her mother said, shocked. "He’s just your kind of person."

"No, Mums, he’s not. He was my type of person. Not anymore. And Mums?"

"Yes, Judith?" Irene said, in a disappointed voice.

"Please don’t make any more promises to Tommy for me."