Justin held his cousin in his arms, wishing he could take the pain away and that he could do something for him. "I don't know why. That person should have never said that to you." He stroked his cousin's limp hair, letting him cry into his shirt.

"Am I really too prideful......should it just be cut to teach me a lesson....like Susan....said" he whimpered, choking the words out one by one, thinking of the painful memories that swirled in his mind. All that he had went through to keep his hair, and how it had just been taken again and again. "The stress won't stop....it won't stop...it won't stop.." he repeated to Justin, mumbling out a silent prayer as he cried.

Justin rubbed his little cousin's back. "Well you did worry a lot about it after it started growing back from being pulled out. You do worry about it too much. It will grow back. Just smirk your way through. Tell those bullies you don't care what they think." He paused. "Never mind they would beat you up after words. Is ther any way you can ignore the bullies at school without them torturing you?"
~~~~~~~~~~~
Miley was a little shaken at how upset her cousin got. She knew he stormed off on pure adrenaline and hoped Justin got there in time to help him. "Maralyn, it's not your fault I promise."

"I just don't know what to say to them...." he said in a broken voice. "I don't know what to do. I like my hair...you do to" he said looking up at his older cousin wiping the salty tears from his cheeks. He sniffed, wishing for a hankie.

Justin wiped his cousin's tears. "I do like your hair. I wish i could just make it grow back."
Miley walked up to the group with her parents and Maralyn. "How about you and Maralyn come over, and we order something in."

Maralyn nodded and touched Miley's arm. "That is a fine idea. Thank you...."

*****

When they arrived home, Peter instantly left them to go to his room, mumbling something about not being hungry anymore. When he got up to his bed room, he changed quickly from his church clothes into something casual and comfortable. Then he went to his bed and sat down, putting his face in his hands. He heard foot steps climbing up the stairs but he ignored them.

Tears went down Peter's cheeks. He couldn't eat. What good would that do? If God was punishing him, eating all the protein in the world would not make his hair stop falling out and would not help it grow back. He told God he was sorry for spending so much time worrying about his hair when it grew back form being pulled out and to give him another chance and let his hair grow back and stop falling out. He took a picture of himself that was framed on his dresser. In the picture he still had all his mid neck length brown hair. In frustration, he threw the picture at the wall and wept into his pillow for his hair.
~~~~~~~
Miley could hear something crash, as she knocked on the door. She heard a barely audible sob. "Peter, are you all right?"
She heard a muffled voice. "No, I'm being punished."
Groaning, Miley made her way in to see her cousin's face buried in a pillow and a smashed picture frame. Gently, she picked it up and tried putting it back in and saw why he threw it. "Oh, Peter."
She sat on his bed, stroking his thin hair. "Even if you were, I still think God would want you to eat something. Not eating would only make it worse."
Her cousin looked up with wet eyes. "It won't grow back." Then, he sunk his face back into his pillow. "My hair is gone forever."
She listened to his cries of despair. "You don't know that."
He scooted closer to her, buring his face in her shoulder. She gave him a hug, stroking his back and was glad when he returned it.
Peter looked at her shyly. "Sorry I put all this stress on everybody."
Miley assured him. "We understand. But, not eating may put more stress on us."
Peter gave in, feeling hungry. "Okay." She let him go to the restroom, then the two of them walked downstairs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning, Peter woke up colder. No! Not again. He glanced at his pillow. This time, it was a chunk of his dark curls. He thanked God it was less hair that fell out this time. Still, why did he feel colder? He looked in a mirror and was appalled to find out why. He had a bald spot! He looked horrible! He coudln't go to school looking like some middle aged man! He stumbled down the steps, seeing Miley in the kitchen. "I can't go to school." Then he burst into tears. "I have...a bald spot." He put his face on the counter and let he emotions come.

Miley turned from cooking breakfast and gasped coming over to him. "That's some good morning..." she said in a sympathetic voice, wondering why every new day had to start out with so much pain for him. "Let me see.." she gently said and looked at his head. It was true! "Oh Peter...you mustn't cry anymore. It's alright!" she hugged him and rubbed his back. Kissing his forehead she gently led him to the kitchen table. "You can wear a hat and no one will know!" she cried.

Peter sniffed. "They will know! The bullies with try to knock the hat off or the teacher will tell me to take if off and I will have to tell him what happened!" He let out a despairing sob. "I don't want a hat I want my hair." He cried rubbing his head, the bald spot making him cry harder. "I wish this were all just some bad dream I could wake up from soon!" He screamed into his fists. How much more would fall out before he was completely bald? Will it ever grow back? Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks at the thought of it being gone for the rest of his life on earth. He covered his mouth to keep more cries from coming out, but it was no use. Why did his life have to be so miserable? Wasn't he allowed any joy or pleasure in life?

"Oh Peter stop crying....." Miley said sympathetically "Please! I can see what I can do with your hair. I'll cover the bald spot up...please....don't cry anymore!" she exclaimed almost crying herself, she tried not to show it but it didn't help. It was clear in her voice, and she began crying to. "I'll help you with your hair....I promise....no one will notice!" all the stress that was running through the house was being dumped on her shoulders to. It weighed her down, and she tried to be strong but sometimes it didn't help.

Peter looked down, ashamed of the stress he was causing. "Sorry." He was sure someone was bound to notice, but didn't say anything. He quietly ate his breakfast, then let Miley fix what was left of his hair. Looking in the mirror, he saw the red blotches on his face and the fact he had almost no hair. He looked down, closing his eyes as she brushed it. He would never look the same again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Amanda was in recovery, with he rphysical therapy at the gym with Abigal, Andrew and Diane. It still strained to keep pushing the long rubber band with her foot but was improving.

Abigal was having the hardest time with the therapy. Since the crash she had been in a wheel chair, unable to walk or move about. "I don't want to walk....I don't..." she pleaded as the therapist tried to prod her to stand. Her legs were so stiff, and ached with pain every time she tried to move them. She gripped with arm rests of her chair with white knuckles. "Don't make me stand..."

*********

Even if she tried and tried to cover his hair loose up it would never be the same. Some one would notice....then they would laugh and sneer and he would never hear the end of it. He would be miserable..."miley..." he choked out "Will I ever be the same?"

The therapist paused for a second. "Are you hurting in teh legs?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Miley found some gel, and tried brushing the top of his hair forward. She groaned, when she saw it only made the hair loss look worse. "I don't know. I'm going to make an appointment with a pschycologist for you. That may help with some of the stress." Normally, she didn't trust those people. However, there was someone who was friends with her parents at church and she felt that person was trustworthy.

Abigal nodded tearful. "My legs....they hurt when I try to move them. Don't make me stand, please!" her tone was pleading, and she clutched the wheel chair so tight no one could move her.

~~~~~~~~~

Andrew was doing weight lifting on a blue mat not too far away. Drops of perspiration were building on his hot fore-head, and dripping down across his temples. He was on number 23 of a 50 round lifting bout. Lying flat on his back and lifting the large bar bell, up then back down to his chest, was a challenge, and shot pain through his arms which had been weakened since the crash. His right upper shoulder had been wounded, some of it's nerves and muscles ripped, in the tragedy. Though the doctor had described intense therapy and muscle strengthening as the perfect cure for his problem, Andrew was doubting the diagnosis. "How many....do I....have to do.....again!?" he gasped out to the therapist near him.

~~~~~~~~

"Pschycoolgist? Oh...." Peter whimpered "He'll probably think i'm crazy.." He shook his head.

Abigal's therapist said. "They only way we can strengthen them is if you try to move them. Do you want to be in a wheelchair your whole life?"
~~~~~~~~~
Andrew's therapist said, "Let's try ten more today then you can practice three more sets of ten at home until you get your strenght back."
~~~~~~~~~
Amanda was able to do most of her workout, but still walked with a limp and a walker. The therapist gave her excersises on a sheet of paper and ahd her do three sets of ten at home. Then, when that got easy to do three sets of fifteen.
~~~~~~~~~~
Miley looked at him sympathetically. "We have to find something to get the stress to go away." She walked over to the phone and had their doctor refer her to the pshycologist that she knew and trusted. Then, she called the person and made an appointment for that afternoon. When they got there with her mom, they filled out paper work, then the pschycologist led her and her cousin into a room with soft cushiony chairs. She stroked her cousin's back.

The pschycologist went to their church and was young with short brown hair at the back of his neck. He looked at Peter sympathetically. "I did see you at church the other day. What exactly do you think caused this to happen?"