“Hey guurl,” Peter held out his hand for a high five, but as soon as he did so, he lost his balance and slipped headfirst off of the sofa.  “Ow.”  Adam shook his head.<br/><br/>He'd made little progress with the DASH machine.  Peter was probably right, and he should seek out a manual of sorts to at least show him how everything runs.  It was easy to find switches for treble, bass, that sort thing, but the rest had unknown functions.  He supposed for now it could wait.  Adam stood and collected his guitar which was propped on the wall.  He plopped down across from Sasha and absently strummed the chords to “Smoke on the Water.”  In that moment, the door leading into the house creaked open, catching the boys' attention.  A very old woman emerged, shuffling in and eying them in turn.  She muttered something in French.<br/><br/>“Grandma who let you out of the basement?” Peter stood upright and jogged to the door.  The elderly woman stared at him with a glazed look, murmuring something else as Peter guided her back into the house.  They could be heard conversing for a few more seconds until another door shut somewhere inside.<br/><br/>“His grandmother lived in Montréal most of her life, and she refuses to speak English,” Adam explained with a dismissive shrug.  “She's like, ninety years old and wanders around a lot and falls asleep just about everywhere.  Don't let her scare you.”<br/><br/>He slowed his activity on the guitar and peered over, observing her arm.  It was still red, and looked like it might bruise later on.  Her wrist was obscured by its brace.<br/><br/>“How's the wrist?”  Adam guessed she probably already heard about what happened with Scott in the locker rooms.  Word tended to travel quickly at their school.