Dylan exchanged a worried glance with Stuart. « Let us call an ambulance, sir. You might have broken something. »
« No! No, I’m alright. » Michael waved his hand dismissively, though his voice shook. « I just needed to get back on my feet. I can walk. Thank you, boys. You’ve been very kind, but I’ll manage from here. »
He reached for his wooden cane, which had rolled a few feet away. Stuart grabbed it and handed it to him.
« We’re not leaving you alone like this, » Dylan said firmly. « We’ll walk you home. We’re heading that way anyway. »
« But your families will worry, » Michael protested weakly.
« They’ll understand, » Stuart said, slipping his arm under Michael’s elbow. « Come on. Lean on us. »
Together, the two boys helped the man to his feet. Michael was lighter than they expected, almost fragile. They supported him on either side as he directed them down a narrow dirt path that branched off from the main road.
Ten minutes later, they arrived at Michael’s home. Both boys froze when they saw it.
The trailer was ancient and battered, its once-white exterior now stained with rust and grime. One corner sagged dangerously, and the windows were patched with cardboard and tape. The entire structure looked like it might collapse with the next strong wind.
« This is where you live? » Dylan couldn’t hide the shock in his voice.
