[about the huge bandage on Brick's arm] It's tiny. There's not even a scratch. Here, Brick. Unwrap it and show him.
Sir, we can't allow you to talk directly to your child.
What? Is this for real?
[narration] Oh, it was for real all right. It started with a bandage and just snowballed from there. It didn't help that there was a new hall monitor at school.
[to Brick] Hey, buddy. What happened to your arm?
I'm not supposed to tell.
What do you mean?
My mom says I'm not supposed to tell.
Well, if something happened at home, you have to tell a grown-up.
Okay. My mom hit me with a beer bottle. She was mad, my dad was mad, and I always get in the way.
[narration] You can see how this sounded. Everyone could see how it sounded, except Brick.
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