Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction. These characters belong to me, as well as their lives. Do not steal them from me.
Thanks. Enjoy.
~~~
"It's going to be a good day. I just know it."
Emily and I are sitting on the counter in my kitchen, surrounded by brewing tea and her sugar packets. We've only just woken up a dozen or so minutes ago in my tent, and she has baseball practice in an hour. We would have stayed at her house for breakfast, but I have tea and bagels. I know now to never underestimate what Emily will do for a blueberry bagel.
"Why's that?" I ask, carefully pulling my bagel out of our toaster oven.
"Well, it started off with a bagel," she says.
"Uh huh. You are bagel-crazy."
"It's true."
I'm still curious though. I mean, I like bagels as much as the average girl, but I don't exactly believe that they're part of the formula for a great day. Maybe they are, I just haven't paid attention.
"Besides the bagel, why is this going to be a good day?" I blow on my bagel to cool it down.
"I don't know, I just... I feel like it is," she shrugs.
"Ah, this is a 'power of the will' sort of thing," I say.
It must be interesting to be Emily- she just thinks 'it's going to be a good day', and goes with it.
She puts her bagel down and looks seriously at me.
"No, August, it's a 'I've got a feeling' sort of thing," she says. "I have no power over this."
I don't really do the whole 'destiny' and 'fate' thing. It just doesn't fit for me. I don't know what to say, so I just take a bite of my bagel in incredulous silence.
She mirrors me with a serious look on her face. Then she makes a face like Tommy Lee Jones- the permanent, blank frown he's so famous for- and crosses her eyes while she chews.
I can't help it- in my attempt not to laugh chewed-up bagel crumbs all over her, I accidentally inhale some of them, and spend the next minute or so hacking like a cat.
When I'm finished with that, she addresses me like nothing's happened at all.
"My practice starts at noon."
I nod, blinking away the tears that formed during my coughing fit. "I know."
"And I should get done around five."
"I'll be there to get you, no worries."
"Good."
~~~
We show up at her practice five minutes early, and Emily goes immediately to stretch and warm up. They stretch each other during team warm-up, but she slept on the floor last night, so she needs to limber up.
As usual, I stick around until Coach Van calls attention to the whole team. I lean up against the bleachers, casting a glance around the diamond and the parking lot, looking at all the teammates.
A whole bunch of them pull up in a pickup truck, three or so in the bed. When the truck comes to a stop, they pile out, one after another. Kyle Johnson is the last to get out, throwing his duffel bag out with a thud first.
I should have seen it coming- he vaulted himself over the side with one arm, heading toward the ground at an angle. His right foot, closer to the ground, found the unstable surface of the duffel bag before leading his other foot to search for it as well. He slammed, right knee first, into the gravel-covered parking lot.
Kyle is not one of those guys that swears gratuitously, but if I had just busted my knee like that, I would have also screamed the massive "FUCK" he let loose.
I'm the first person, after the guys who rode with him, to reach him where he sits on the ground. I instantly kneel beside him, knowing that there's nothing comforting about being surrounded by people standing when you're firmly stuck on the ground. He's holding his hands away from his knee the way that people do when they want to hold something that hurts, but they're afraid they'll hurt it worse by touching it.
Soon the rest of the team is here, Emily included, and Coach Van is pushing his way through them.
"Move. Let me in, I need to see this," He's not exactly whispering, but this usual above-indoors-only-decibels authoritative coaching voice certainly has a dent in it.
"What did you do, son?" he asks Kyle.
Other than the soft-spoken and constant stream of profanities coming from Kyle, it didn't seem like he was going to answer. So I did for him.
"He jumped out of the bed," I say, jerking my head toward the truck. "And didn't get a good footing on the way down."
Coach Van shakes his head. "Son, when are you going to start using your head as more than something to grow hair on?"
It's almost all I can do not to spit on the man. One of his atheletes is hurt, and he's berating him like this? I can understand doing so after the kid has gotten treatment and is no longer in tremendous amounts of pain, but now?
Emily is on the same wavelength as me.
"He'll do that later. What do we do now?"
Coach Van rubs his jaw for a second. "We still need to practice. We've got a game in a week, and it looks like we have a new pitcher." He nods to Emily, and she nods back.
"I can take him to the Emergency Room," I blurt, not knowing what else to do. Tears are welling up in Kyle's eyes, and I don't do tears. "I'll call his parents and everything."
A few of the guys are looking at me like there are snakes slithering out of my ears. Kyle's cussing has quieted down a bit, and my sudden offer came out louder than any of us expected.
"With what car?" demands Sellers, crossing his arms. "You walked here."
"Whatever car he can get in," I spit at him. "I just need keys- and his parents' phone numbers."
"He should have them in his phone," one of them volunteers.
"Okay, keys?" I say.
Jonathon, the kid who owns the truck we're all crowded at the back end of, hands me his. "Just take it."
"Thanks." I swallow back how unprepared I am to do this. I know it's time to get Kyle on his feet- or at least one foot- but I'm not so sure if I can: even curled up and whimpering as he is now, he's a tall one.
"Kyle? Listen to me," I say, tilting his face so that his eyes meet mine. "It's time to stand up. I'll help you, but I need you try too. Okay?"
He nods, and I slip an arm around his torso. Coach Van reaches out and grabs Kyle's hand and helps me hoist him to his foot. He refuses to bend his bad knee, and I don't blame him. We hobble over to the passenger side of the truck, where Coach Van opens the door. Taking the one step up into the truck takes everything Kyle can give it, and almost all I can. He slowly, painstakingly, buckles himself in as I hop in the driver's seat and turn the mammoth of a truck on.
I crank it into drive and pull out of the parking lot.
"Kyle, could you give me your phone?"
He pulls it out of his pocket, and holds it out to me. We reach a stop sign, and I take my wallet out of my back pocket and hand it to him.
"Here, I'll trade you. Somewhere in there, there's two pills. Take them both."
He gives me a weird look.
"I'm not trying to drug you," I sigh. "Those are acetominophen."
The look continues.
"Painkillers, Kyle. They're painkillers."
He swallows them both as I get into the contacts on his phone.
"Don't call my mom."
I'm curious, but as I'm sort of busy in getting him to the E.R., I let it go.
"Okay."
I dial his father, and within seconds he picks up, sounding irritated.
"Kyle, this had better be important. You're supposed to be at practive," he begins, but I don't let him go on.
"Mr. Johnson? This is August Shoemaker. You're son's had an accident," I say.
"Who? What are you talking about?"
I have to make a hairpin turn with one hand as I answer him. "August Shoemaker. I go to school with Kyle. He's hurt, and I'm taking him to the Emergency Room. I need you to be there." I correct myself. "He needs you."
"What's wrong with him?" His father sounds scared.
"We don't really know. He busted his knee pretty bad," I volunteer.
"All right," he sighs. "I'll be there within the hour, I've got to drive back into town."
"I'll tell him, sir."
"Yes, do." I'm about to hang up as I hear him say, "June?"
"It's August, sir."
They don't even sound the same.
"August. Right. Thank you."
"It's no problem, sir."
We hang up.
"Your dad will be at the E.R. in about an hour."
"Cool," Kyle says weakly.
He looks pale and I hope with every fiber of my being that he doesn't pass out- I really don't think I could even begin to get him out of the truck if he did.
"Hey. Come on. Stay awake," I say. "Talk to me. I can't have you passing out. I wouldn't be able to get you out of here."
"Okay," He turns to look at me.
"Uh, so..." And of course, I don't know what to say.
"Bet you're glad I'm hurt," he says after a long moment of silence.
"Why the hell would I be glad?" I know what's coming, but I figure the longer he thinks about something else besides his knee, the better.
"Emily gets to play now," he shrugs.
"Yeah, I guess so. I did want her to play," I say.
"Well she gets to now. Because of me."
"I would rather she get to play because one of you fails a class, than seeing her play because one of you hurt yourself."
We pull up to an intersection and have to sit for a minute.
"Except for Sellers."
I snort. "Yeah... Sellers- I've been considering doing that myself, actually."
He smiles for a second, then it fades. I think his knee is bothering him too much and curse the light for not letting us get a move on, but then the light changes and he starts again.
"I saw him grab her hair." He swallows roughly. "We all did."
I bite my bottom lip. I can barely see the hospital ahead, and I'm ready for this conversation to be over.
"I'm sorry we didn't do anything." He reaches over and places a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't."
I can't stop the words from coming out, and even though they're cruel, they're true.
"I'm sorry you didn't, too."
He's quiet, and I risk a glance at him. His eyes are narrowed, but he's not angry- I think he's trying to figure me out.
"What's up with you two?"
"She's my best friend."
"Nothing else."
Well-
"Nope."
He chuckles a bit. "Liar."
"Excuse me for not opening up to someone I rarely, if ever, talk to," I snap at him. I try to push away the guilt I feel for being a jerk to a guy with a freshly busted leg, but it gets to me. "Sorry."
"No problem. Maybe after my leg gets fixed, we can talk?"
I pull into the hospital parking lot and speed over to the E.R. door.
"Yeah, sure. Whatever." I say, parking, and not caring much. "Ready?"
For the next hour, I have to explain to countless nurses and doctors what's going on. Yes, he fell. Yes, his leg hurts. No, neither of us are 18. No, I'm not related to him. Yes, his dad is coming soon. Yes, his dad has insurance. The questions make my head hurt, and I find myself wishing I had those acetaminophen from earlier. That reminds me to tell the nurses that he took them, and leads to a whole new round of questions.
I have to sit with him in two different waiting rooms as we struggle to fill paperwork out together, as he doesn't stop grimacing with pain. A nurse comes by to take his blood pressure, pulse, and temperature, and notes that the first two are high.
"Of course they are," I snap. "He's got a busted knee and he's been waiting for it to get fixed for half an hour."
A doctor comes by and prods Kyle's knee in a bunch of different places and asks where it hurts.
Finally, about an hour after we get there, they take him to get and x-ray on his leg. With a nurse, I help him walk to the room and get on the high table. I turn to leave, and the nurse shakes her head and waves me away from the door.
"Oh no, honey, you can stay with him."
"Oh, I-" I start, but I'm startled to feel Kyle grab my hand.
"Yeah, honey," he smirks. "Stay."
I shake my head, but I do as he says, holding his hand.
After the x-ray, his father arrives. He shakes my hand and says that I can go home, if I want. I consider it for a second, but since I have nothing to do for the rest of the day, except take Emily home, I decide to stick around.
I shouldn't have.
~~~
AN:
What do you think about Kyle? I think I'm going to keep him around for a while.
Comment, Vote and Fan- should you so desire.
Much Love and Until Next Time,
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