2 Sunday morning I awoke to find Stu sitting on my bed wearing his favorite black Ramones T-shirt. He would wear that shirt every day if he didn't have to wash it once in a while. "What are you doing up so early?" I asked. "Early? Scott, it's 12:30. You slept through breakfast and lunch." Stu looked worried for some reason. "Wow, I've never done that before." "Actually, you have. Three weeks ago you came home from football practice at six and crashed. You didn't wake up until eleven the next morning." "Oh," I said with a shrug, not thinking anything of it. I tossed the sheets off and stood up. A fire erupted in my shoulders and knees forcing me to sit back down. I swallowed the pain and pretended that I just lost my balance so Stu wouldn't know. "I must be hung over or something," I said. Bracing myself for the pain, I stood up again without showing a hint of discomfort and slowly walked to the bathroom. Stu followed. "Are you okay, Scottie?" "Yeah, I'm fine," I said as I began to relieve myself.
