Here to Win Rewrite (Walker Boys Sequel)

Chap. 9

I ended up going to see Kelly, but not just for my shoulder. I was still fighting the blood sugar thing, and I was actually starting to worry.

But the other part was that by my mid-morning class, I could no longer stretch out my left arm. The pain coming from my shoulder was immense, and I had to clench my jaw just to make it through class.

“Hey Mason,” Kelly said, as I walked in.

“Hey,” I muttered, taking a seat.

“What can I do for you?”

“My left shoulder,” I said, deciding to start with the lesser of two evils first.

“I heard about your spill,” she said, standing up. “Take off your shirt.”

I did as I was told.

“Brandon told me that you refused to come see me.” She clicked her tongue as she looked at my shoulder. “Bad mistake.”

“So?”

“It’s dislocated.”

“So you can just pop it back into place and we’ll be good to go?”

She chuckled. “It’s not quite that simple. Lay down on your back.”

I did as I was told, my shoulder aching in protest.

Kelly took my left arm and, in one fluid motion, swung my arm up above my head.

I felt instant relief of pain throughout my shoulder, and I sighed. “Thanks Kelly.”

“Yeah, it’s not that simple. It’s going to be quite sore. You’re going to need to wear a sling for the next few days.”

“Yeah, so not happening.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re wearing the sling.”

“I don’t wear any type of brace, ever. Never have, and I never will. Plus, how would I run with a sling?”

She rolled her eyes. “You won’t be training for the next few days.”

“Yeah right.”

“Mason, I’m serious. I will notify Coach Daniels.”

“Then I’ll train on my own time.”

“Mason, you are not allowed to train. Do you understand?”

“Kelly, I have an Olympic Scout coming to watch me next Thursday. Do you understand?”

We had a glaring contest for about thirty seconds, and then she let out a sigh. “At least let me wrap it.”

“Fine.”

“But I’m not giving you Biofreeze. So you won’t make it through a full practice.”

“You’d be surprised what happens when my Adrenaline starts pumping.”

She rolled her eyes and taped up my shoulder. “I’m still notifying Coach Daniels,” she warned me.

“That’s fine,” I said, pulling back on my shirt. “But there’s one more thing I need.”

“What’s that?” she asked, sending a text to Coach Daniels.

I hated admitting that I was having a tough time controlling my Diabetes. It rarely happened, but when it did, it was serious.

“What is it Mason?” she asked, impatiently.

“I’m, um, having a problem with my blood sugar,” I admitted, without looking at her.

“What kind of problem?” she asked, her voice changing from impatient to concerned.