Between Two Worlds

Chapter 8 | Setting Into Routine

With ten minutes left in the game, West Valley was still leading 2-1 when Tyler made a run down the left side of the field. He was moving at full speed, chasing a through ball, when an opposing player came in with a sliding tackle that caught Tyler's ankle at an awkward angle.

The sound that carried across the field made everyone in the stands wince. Tyler went down hard, rolling and clutching his ankle, and didn't get back up.

"Oh God," Madison breathed, her face going pale. "Oh no, no, no."

The referee stopped play immediately, and the West Valley trainer ran onto the field. From our seats in the bleachers, we could see Tyler sitting up, clearly in pain but conscious and alert.

"He's okay," David said quickly, putting an arm around Madison's shoulders. "He's sitting up, he's talking to the trainer. That's all good signs."

But Madison was already moving, pushing past people in our row toward the stairs. "I need to get down there."

"Madison, wait," Linda called after her. "Let the trainer do his job first."

But Madison was gone, moving through the crowd toward the sidelines with single-minded determination. I watched her go, torn between wanting to follow and knowing that this wasn't my crisis to manage.

"She really loves him," I said quietly to Linda.

"She does," Linda agreed, but there was something complicated in her expression. "Sometimes I think she loves the idea of loving him more than she actually knows him as a person, but the feelings are definitely real."

On the field, Tyler was being helped to his feet by the trainer and a teammate. He put tentative weight on his injured ankle, winced, but managed to take a few steps. The crowd erupted in relieved cheers, and I found myself clapping harder than the situation probably warranted.

"He'll be fine," Jake said with the confidence of someone who'd never been seriously injured. "Tyler's tough. He'll walk it off."

But as Tyler limped toward the sidelines, it was clear that he was done for the night. The coach was already signaling for a substitution, and Tyler's shoulders slumped with disappointment that was visible even from the bleachers.

Madison had somehow made it to the sideline fence and was calling Tyler's name. When he spotted her, his face brightened slightly, and he limped over to where she was standing.

Even from our distance, we could see the intensity of their conversation. Madison was gesturing animatedly, clearly upset, while Tyler seemed to be trying to reassure her. After a few minutes, Tyler kissed her through the fence and then headed toward the locker room, still limping but moving under his own power.

"She's coming back," Linda observed as Madison began making her way through the crowd toward our section.

When Madison rejoined us, her perfect makeup was slightly smudged and her carefully coordinated outfit looked rumpled from pushing through crowds.

"What did he say?" Jake asked immediately.

"He thinks it's just a sprain," Madison said, settling back into her seat. "The trainer wants to ice it and see how it looks tomorrow. He might miss practice next week, but it shouldn't affect his college prospects."

"That's a relief," David said.

"Is he okay though?" I asked. "I mean, beyond the physical injury. He looked disappointed."

Madison glanced at me, and for a moment her composed facade slipped. "He's frustrated. This is his senior year, and every game matters for his stats and college recruitment. Missing even one game feels huge to him."