pinky

Seb smiled. "Yes, my poor little pinky. Pinky," he repeated. "That's a funny word. And I'm glad to hear you have a license, but aren't you sixteen? Do you just have your learner's? I had time to think, while you were on your way, and I was confused. Please don't tell me you drove here alone, in the dark, illegally, just to find me." He wished, as soon as he said these things, that he could suck them back inside his head. He should be grateful that she worried enough to find him, he should be happy and she was embarrassed enough as it was.

Just as he was about to apologize, however, the door opened. A tall man with short, thin brown hair and bird's feet at the corners of his eyes came in, accompanied by a nurse. "Dad!" said Seb, sitting up straight and trying to ignore the IV needle in his wrist. "Seb, what on earth did you do!" said his dad, walking over and touching his son's head as if he were a seven year old, not a seventeen year old. "They said you ran off the road and into a ditch. Concussions, bruises... What on earth were you thinking?" Sebastian glanced at Trina, then replied. "My brakes, they just...gave out... I dunno, the pedal hit the floor and I didn't want to hit the car, so I rolled in the ditch. I'm sorry about the car, Dad, it's totaled. But, anyway..."

His dad had just noticed Trina, sitting by the bed, and his dark green eyes focused on her. "Who's this?" he asked, confused. "This is Trina Madison, Dad, she's a friend of mine. Trina, this is my Dad, Dr. Mason Ostergaard..." His dad gave him a questioning look.