As the players converged upon me, their bodies crashing into mine, I felt the sickening impact of my head slamming against the boards. A sharp, shooting pain pulsed through my skull despite wearing a helmet, blurring my vision and leaving me disoriented. The world seemed to tilt on its axis as I struggled to make sense of what was happening.
Amidst the chaos, I could hear the sounds of skates scraping against the ice, shouts of alarm and confusion echoing in my ears. I tried to push myself up, to shake off the dizziness and regain my footing, but the effort only sent waves of nausea washing over me.
"Shit, Connor!" I heard Jake say. "You okay, man?"
Through the haze, I became aware of a searing pain shooting through my leg, the pain so intense it took my breath away. Beneath me, the ice felt cold, and I saw a small puddle of blood pooling on the ice, dripping down from my arm. Someone's blade must've cut me in the collision.
I saw Josh, along with David and one of the hockey players standing over me, their helmets off, looking down at me with horrified and concerned expressions on their faces.
Meanwhile, someone – I couldn't make out who – muttered, "Damn, dude got dummied."
I tried to push myself up once more, to shake off the pain and soldier on, but as soon as I put weight on my left leg, a cry of agony escaped my lips. I crumpled back down onto the ice, my teeth gritted against the pain.
"We need to call an ambulance," Lydia said in a panicked voice.
"I'll call," Ben replied.
The thought of being picked up and brought to the hospital in an ambulance only added to my sense of panic. The last thing I wanted was to cause a scene, to draw even more attention to myself. "No," I managed to choke out, my voice hoarse with pain. "No ambulance. Just help me up."
Ben and Jake lifted me up and carried me over to the bench. I winced with every movement, my leg and head throbbing. They took off my skates.
Meanwhile, Josh came over to the boards. "It was my fault," he said. "I can drive him to the hospital."
In a quiet but stern voice, David said, "Dude, you can't fucking drive right now."
"Jake and I can take him," Ben said. "Josh, you can come with if you want."
The pain flared anew as Jake and Ben hoisted me up, but I gritted my teeth against the agony, trying not to look weak.
Together, they guided me towards the exit, their steps slow and deliberate as they supported my weight. The world seemed to blur around me as we made our way out of the rink.
As we reached the entrance, with Josh opening the door for us, I was surprised to see how dark out it was already.
With gentle hands, they eased me into the backseat of Jake's Benz, the interior bathed in the soft glow of the dashboard lights. I sank back against the seat, exhaustion washing over me as the adrenaline began to fade. Josh climbed into the backseat with me, and I was in too much pain and too disoriented to even get excited about how close we were to each other.
With Ben at the wheel and Jake riding shotgun, we sped away from the rink, the streetlights blurring into streaks of color as we raced towards the hospital. I clung to consciousness as best I could, the pain in my leg throbbing nonstop as the car jostled me with every sharp turn. But soon, my eyelids grew heavy, the world fading into a haze of shadows and distant voices.
"Connor?" I heard Josh say, but his voice sounded like he was underwater. I felt his hand gently touch my face. "Connor, are you okay?"
Then I surrendered to the darkness, and everything went black.
***
When I regained consciousness, I found myself lying in a hospital bed, a heavy scent of antiseptic filling the air. The steady beep of machines echoed in the background.
Jake and Josh stood by my bedside; Josh's face was etched with worry as he watched over me, while Jake grinned when he saw me open my eyes.
"Welcome back, Gretzky," Jake said.
"What happened?" I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"You passed out in the car on the way to the hospital. Dude, I thought you fucking died for a second."
Josh didn't say anything as he stared down at me, visibly uncomfortable.
I noticed at that moment that I didn't really feel the pain. I looked down and saw that my left leg had a cast on it and there was an IV in my arm. I felt like I was floating.
"Doctor gave you the good stuff, you lucky bastard," Jake said, still smiling. "Your parents are on their way. Ben had to go, but he says to get better soon or whatever. I told Liv, so she'll probably be texting you nonstop." He then gestured to my arm, which was wrapped in a bandage. "You're gonna have a sick scar, though."
I realized, then, that I had a smile on my face. I brought my hands up to my face to feel it, and yep, there it was. I pulled my face down to try to stop my mouth from turning up, but it didn't work.
Jake burst out laughing at me. I even saw Josh smile a little.
"What are you laughing at?" I asked, confused.
"You're fucked up on pain meds, dude," Jake replied through fits of laughter.
"I think I saw God when I was out," I said. I frowned then, finally, because I realized I'd wanted that to stay inside my head.
The doctor came in a moment later and introduced himself as Dr. Roberts.
"Like Julia Roberts," I said in response, nodding.
The doctor smiled. "Yes, exactly. So, you have a fracture in your tibia, likely a concussion as well. It's going to take some time for your leg to heal, and you'll need to take it easy for the next few weeks. In the meantime, you'll need to use crutches and avoid putting weight on your leg. I'll let your parents know everything as well when they get here."
After he left, Jake said, "I don't know if you'll remember this, but I'm really sorry I forced you to play."
"It was my fault," Josh interjected. "I couldn't stop."
"Guys, I'm fine," I told them. "Seriously, I feel great."
Jake patted my arm that wasn't bandaged up. "Hopefully you'll be as forgiving tomorrow. I gotta head out, though, dude. I'll text you. Feel better."
After he walked out, I looked up at Josh. "Jake thinks we're best friends."
"Oh, really?" Josh replied. "And...you're not?"
"He's not my best friend. Liv is."
Josh nodded, looking thoughtful, as though I was saying the most interesting thing he'd ever heard.
"Did you show up drunk to Jake's party?" I asked, my inhibitions off due to the drugs.
"No," he answered, a little too quickly.
"You didn't drink there, and David said you couldn't drive."
"Yeah, well...people were drinking there. What difference does it make?"
"Did you drive drunk?"
"No, I..." Josh sighed, something he seemed to do often. "I drank in the rink's parking lot."
"Why?"
"Because it's hard being social sometimes. I don't know."
"Do you like me?"
When I asked the question, Josh's eyes widened in surprise. "No," he finally said after a moment.
"I think you're lying," I replied. "And I know you're really hurt and sad because of everything you've been through, but I just wanted to tell you that I like you."
Josh stared at me in silence, a look on his face I couldn't decipher.
"You can leave if you want," I told him. "My parents will be here soon."
"I'll wait." After a few seconds, he added, "Maybe...we could be friends."
To which I, under the influence of painkillers, stupidly replied, "I have enough friends."
***
Josh stayed until my parents showed up a few minutes later, and then he slipped outside while they fussed over me.
"My poor baby," my mom cooed.
Sure, they acted all concerned, but they seemed to have taken their sweet time getting there.
"You doing okay, champ?" my dad asked. He didn't really know how to talk to me, how to be comforting, but the fact that he was even there felt like he was trying.
"I'm fine," I said.
The doctor talked to my parents for a while, and an hour later I was discharged. As my parents wheeled me out in a wheelchair, I grimaced each time it bumped; the meds were wearing off.
I checked my phone on the drive home. I had 5 texts and a missed call from Liv, a bunch of texts in our group chat, and a shit ton of Instagram notifications.
I opened Insta and saw that all of the guys at the party, including the hockey and soccer players, had followed me. Jake's friend, Tate, had tagged me in a photo of the puddle of my blood on the rink and captioned it "@connor_hill07 got #kronwalled." It somehow already had over 80 likes and 32 comments.
Due to my lack of athleticism, I had inadvertently become one of the boys.