When I come back to reality a potent scent drags me back. Rotating my head I squint, readjusting to the sunlight nearly blinding me. I stop moving at the intense throbbing coming from my wrist.
"Callie, try not to move. You could have a serious injury, " Coach instructs and I feel everything hit at once. "Does anywhere hurt in particular?"
"My wrist, god everything -" I choke back a sob and try not to hyperventilate over the pain.
"I thought she only fell on her left." Someone rushes out.
"She was sore from pushing herself yesterday," Summer's voice sticks out in panic and I try to flicker my eyes around. "She ran for five kilometers then did the toning and weights."
"Well nothing is sticking out - might get the paramedics to check she doesn't have anything more serious." The football coach stands up and casts a shadow to block the sun out.
Finally I see Summer biting her nails, phone in hand while looking at me with pure panic. I try to suppress the tears but I'm in agony, scared and shocked over what just happened.
I sit up, immediately feeling everything tilt. Blinking furiously I cradle my right arm which is burning with heat and hearing the protests of my coach from sitting up. I look around, seemingly aware of the onlookers standing off to the far right near the stairs.
The squad is nowhere in sight and majority of the people have left the field with a few exceptions lingering to gossip. I can't believe I fell - that nobody caught me. Anger thrums through me but the pulsing of pain stops that train from going any further.
"We've called your dad and an ambulance - it's standard protocol when someone has an accident of your capacity." Coach explains.
"I think I've broken my wrist or hand or arm . . . I'm not sure, it just hurts." I breathe through it and try not to move too much.
It's heavy to lift and that's a sign of a break - just internal, thankfully.
"So you don't have any pain or discomfort anywhere else?" I shake my head slowly. "Then we'll get you up to your feet and move you over to the stairs, take your time."
Summer moves to my side when I sway and feel Coach Jensen grip my elbow which jerks my arm. I scream, knees almost buckling until I'm yanked up by the waist. Summer soothes me with a shushing noise and I try not to cry.
"Just take your time. It's okay," Summer soothes over the two bickering of the coaches. I hear feet pounding on the spongy track and realize the track team are still running on the far lane. "Do you know what happened?"
Jonah slows his pace when he meets my eyes, stepping my way. "Callie, I'm sorry I distracted-"
"You will be sorry." I sneer, seeing his face fall as his eyes drop down to my cradled arm.
"It was a mistake-"
"A mistake?" I yell, trying to drag myself closer but Summer is digging her heels in to stop me. "You don't ever distract someone who's supporting a person in the air. I could have broken my neck!"
Fear floods through me and he genuinely looks scared, regretful of his actions. Jonah gets shoved slightly and he stumbles, looking to his captain with confusion. I stare in shock and stop from pulling against Summer as Sam scolds him.
"Keep moving. Now," Jonah takes off after a moment and Sam approaches drawing the air from my lungs. He glances at my hand and meets my eyes with worry. "I'm sorry this happened. If you need something, let me know and I'll be more than willing to help."
Glancing at Jonah I narrow my eyes with hate. "Make him run."
"You've got it," Surprised by his remark I glance at him in disbelief and he seems to catch on to my own emotions. He flattens his lips to a straight line. "Take care of yourself and let me know if I need to ask for an extension about our assignment tomorrow - I doubt we wouldn't get one."
Nodding I lean back into Summer, exhaling slowly and start walking towards the stairs. I glance back at Sam who's scanning me cautiously and only stops when one of his teammates calls out to him.
Summer hums slightly. "That was nice of him to offer."
"I know." I barely whisper to her in response.
"So did you willingly pair up with him for the assignment?" Before I can open my mouth she's quick to add reason to her questioning. "Truthfully, I think he has a thing for you . . . both times at the parties and intervening when you were trying to put people in their place - he wants to help you."
I pause for a second before answering. "You seriously want to talk about boys now?"
"Well everytime I mention it you beat me away, this time you can't. So, he's hot and I think you should make a move on him before Phoebe beats you to it."
"He's nice to everyone - you're probably reading too much into it." I try to lie.
"Uh huh," she scoffs and finally releases me once we reach the stairs and I can lean on the railing. My head is pounding and I feel dizzy still, not to mention the pain in my arm. But at least I didn't break a leg. "So you think it's your wrist? Do you know what color you're getting the cast done?"
"I'm hoping it's not broken . . . I can't afford a broken bone right now."
"Well it's a good thing you're left handed then."
I scoff and slowly move a step at a time, aware that most people are scrambling away now that they've had their fill. At the top of the stairs I feel my stomach knot at the sight of an ambulance pulling into the car park.
Please don't be broken.
● ● ●
Casts are uncomfortable as hell. I've been sentenced to six weeks with the plaster healing two hairline fractures in my right wrist and hand. That means showering with a garbage bag, awkwardly getting dressed, extra cautious in the labs and no more cheerleading stunts. I didn't even realize how much I appreciated being able to put on a bra until this morning when I had to ask Summer to stop by to help me with the clasp. I feel useless and I hate it.
"Are you sure you don't need anything before I go?" Dad asks, hovering by my bedroom door while I trace the patterns of blue plaster with my fingertips.
Looking up, I give a lazy smile. "I'll be fine."
Dad glances around my room as if trying to predict if something may jump out and cause another injury. He was freaked out to say the least when I arrived at the hospital. On top of the fractures I also had a mild concussion - which meant my medication needed to be monitored overnight in case I didn't wake up.
For once, it wasn't me waking up with fear of danger. It was him and he very reluctantly is going to work today considering he blew off Friday to watch me like a hawk. But my logic is I'm not on any heavy medication - only paracetamol if I get any severe aches.
"Call me and I'll come home. I promise." He assures me.
"If I need anything I'll call Summer, you can't blow off work for something like this." I mumble.
"You're my only daughter . . . that accident could've ended a lot worse, I don't care about my job at the moment."
"All I'm going to do is work on schoolwork and once my partner gets here - they'll be able to take care of me." I assure dad to ease his nerves.Dad nods stiffly. "I don't think you should be doing school work today. You were only discharged less than twenty four hours ago."
"Well I did get invited out to see a band but I'm not going now."
Even though I promised Nina I would go in exchange for her to stop playing matchmaker.
"As long as you aren't drinking and you feel okay, I think you should go. You're smart enough to keep your cast safe." He speaks softly.
"I don't feel like doing anything," I numbly respond, any and all motivation evaporated the moment it settled on me that I'm practically useless. "But I'll text you if I do so you don't freak out if I'm not here."
He nods and steps back from my room. "Take it easy . . . I love you."
"You too."
Once dad disappears I listen to his quick pace and the front door open, except it doesn't shut immediately. Hearing the muffled voices I push the home button on my phone and see it's four on the dot. He's most likely greeting Sam which I'm glad I'm not witnessing truthfully.
I curl into my pillows, keeping my cast out stretch and flip through the stack of notes in my chemistry assignment. It's not good enough for submission yet. While the twelve page report might meet the criteria and border excessive - I'm not pleased with it.
It's not good enough and I hate that I want to just tear it to shreds to start over again.
Exhaling slowly I hear the front door slam shut again and softer footsteps approaching. He's always light on his feet, although every third step he drags a foot so it squeaks. Sam doesn't enter immediately and I force myself not to lose control of my emotions. I'm frustrated, angry and overall done with the world at the moment.
"I like the colour," he whispers, stepping up slowly and dropping his bag at the foot of the bed. "Not surprising you picked blue."
"Not everything I chose evolves around Harry Potter. "
"But you resorted to that when they didn't have pale pink," he remarks. I cautiously look at him, unnerved he knows my favorite colour. "It almost matches your eyes."
"Don't," I rush, sitting up when he rests one knee on the bed after taking his shoes off. "We should probably go downstairs to study."
He raises an eyebrow. "Sex is the last thing on my mind right now . . . I'm not going to seduce you when you're acting like someone just died . . ."
"Well sorry for overreacting." I snap.
"I didn't say you were. I get it," He continues and flops down on his stomach, taking my assignment and flipping back to the start. "You lost your independence just like that and it's getting to you, not to mention the fear of the fall itself. Your emotions are all over the place on top of your hormones."
I narrow my eyes. "Becoming a shrink?"
"No. I passed Biology and have common sense," He taps his left arm twice. "I broke my arm when I was eleven - and getting dressed was nearly impossible, fighting off my brothers was even worse - I know how annoying being immobile can be. And I've had my fair share of injuries."
"You have two brothers, right?" I ask.
Sam nods, seemingly shocked. "How did you know that?"
"I saw a photo of you three. The collage by the kitchen," His eyes flicker to mine before dragging back to my work. "Do you even understand any of it?"
"I understand your hypothesis . . . fancy words aside you're testing the reactions of carbon compounds and theorize most of them will change state, how did you go with it?" He continues to read and appears interested in it.
Most people half heartedly read it or try to focus on the negatives - doubting my capabilities. I prop myself up slightly. "You actually care?"
"Tell me about it, I want to know."
After a moment I do. Each part he goes through and questions me. I explain it without filtering my words and he seems to understand everything I've been saying. He doesn't even look confused which causes a reaction I wish it didn't.
I like being able to talk to him about this without fear of being judged or heckled - it's admiring and gut wrenching at the same time. Of course that's the case with the guy I shouldn't want.
"Then why did you seem so depressed when I came in?" He closes the stack and places it on top of my textbook.
I pause for a moment and avoid his eyes when I respond. "I'm just not feeling the most confident at the moment."
"Because of the accident?" He asks, although it's pretty obvious that's what it is. "I don't think a broken wrist stops your brain from functioning."
"But fear does," I twist my lips with the sour confession I blurted out. "Most of the time I tune it out, act irrationally and push it down but I can't let this go . . . I could've done a lot worse."
"You don't seem afraid to me." I hesitantly look at him and feel everything crush me at once.
He's trying to get me to open up. My heart thunders at the thought, throat constricting at confessing the truth to him. He'll think it's ridiculous or worse - he'll understand. "Do you really care what I'm afraid of?"
"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't."
Relaxing slightly I lean back into the pillows more for support. "I fear not being good enough - not physically perfect, not having friends, not being smart enough in a male dominated area, not being accepted by my boyfriend . . . I'm afraid that the person I pretend to be, to be "good enough" is going to take over completely and I'll just be a shallow shell of a person."
Sam remains silent for a while after my rant and I want to disappear. I can't believe I just admitted that and as depressing as it is, the pressure on my shoulders that drags me down daily doesn't feel so strenuous. Instead discomfort forces me to see his reaction.
His features have softened completely to show me empathy and adoration - both slicing through my heart. There's no judgement or doubt that my fears are irrational because it makes sense to him. It's terrifying he understands me more than I do myself.Whereas I don't have a fraction of that understanding when it comes to him. It's enough to say I don't deserve him because his dedication shows in moments like this.
"You can't be a shallow person when you understand your flaws on that level," He starts and moves my chemistry stuff to the bedside table, scooting up slightly. "That fear isn't uncommon and all you need is to be around people who don't bring out the worst in you."
"If I leave my friends then-"
"They aren't your friends." He cuts off immediately and shakes his head.
"I have Summer and Vincent as my friends."
"Summer is great," He disregards Vincent and I almost want to laugh. "You also have Nina . . . and me if you think about it."
I scoff. "You aren't supposed to fool around with your friends."
"Technically we aren't so . . ." He trails off, amusement in his tone over the technicality. "That means we're friends . . . unless you want to tell everyone we used to fool around."
"So you actually want to be my friend? Even if that means no sex or dating potential - strictly platonic." I state.
Sam processes my words and genuinely seems baffled by it. "A friend is someone you like, that isn't toxic, that you can rely on and trust - plus it doesn't hurt if you have things in common . . . besides, I think you could use the support."
"Do you really think having good friends would get rid of that fear?" I ask with hesitation.
"I think it would help and be the start of the person you want to be," He takes the pillow from under my arm and I frown as he squishes it for support. "The one who's good enough by your own standards."
"You know . . . if I were to join your friend circle, Trick would hate it. I think most would as well."
"Considering Nina is the mother hen - none of them would say anything twice," I raise an eyebrow in disbelief that Nina; in all her five foot five glory, could control a group of tall and burly guys. "She likes you a lot which means most of them would disregard your past."
"Will you answer me honestly if I ask you a question?"
He hesitates in agreeing. "That's never a good thing when someone asks for complete honesty."
"I want to know if what I did for you in freshman year was why you were so persistent in me having a good side." I deadpan.
Sam exhales slowly and reaches back to readjust the chain so the guitar pick falls out from under his shirt. The metal is rusted and the thread of the cord is probably one tug from breaking - he could do with a new necklace. I glance back up as he nods slowly.
"You do have a good side to you even if that makes your eyes roll," I resist doing so to avoid proving him right. "While it may not be obvious - it's still there . . . we all make poor and reckless, and selfish decisions sometimes but unless your intent is to do traumatic harm then you aren't a bad person."
I bite the corner of my lip. "What's the worst thing you've done then if we all make mistakes?"
Sam readjusts himself on the pillow again and seems to think briefly before giving me an answer. "That depends . . . law wise I stole something and blamed it on my brother."
"You stole something?" I asked incredulously.
"I was nine and it was a baseball cap stuffed with gummy bears," He shakes his head and I try not to laugh although I can't help a small smile. "But I don't really feel much guilt over that one so probably scaring the shit out of my ex girlfriend."
I raise an eyebrow and see him shrinking back into himself. "You scared your ex? How is that so bad?"
"I made her think someone was breaking into her house when really I was just drunk and angry over her cheating," Sam pauses and exhales deeply. "It was Trick's idea - well he encouraged my plan - so I used a voice modifier and set off smoke bombs once I cut the power, making out I was going to kill her."
Holy shit. I stare in shock, seeing Sam look absolutely disgusted with himself over something I wouldn't expect from him. That's crazy. As in literally, something a serial killer would do to toy with their victim.
"I assume she found out." I conclude.
"She thinks it was Trick because I said nobody likes a cheater which is what he said to her," He glances at me and doesn't look too amused. "And you thought what you did was bad."
"I'm not going to lie, that's fucked up. But I assume that's the worst thing you've done," He nods and I try to lighten the mood. "And I don't have to worry about that happening to me, do I?"
"You'd never cheat on me," He stops and blinks several times. "If we ever dated I mean."
"I'm a lot of things but a cheater isn't one, that's a big no no . . . besides your ex was an idiot," I feel my eyelids getting heavier and the bed moves when I close them. "She shouldn't have let you go."
"Are you tired?" His voice softens, accommodating to the fact I'm falling asleep.
I hum. "Dad had to keep waking me up every two hours to make sure I didn't slip into a comatose state. I'm just really tired."
"Are you meant to stay awake now because I don't want to be responsible for that."
"Twenty-four hours, I'm fine now but I should stay awake because we have an assignment to do-"
"Just sleep," Sam removes himself from my bed and I open my eyes to see him moving to my curtains. He pulls them shut, dragging his feet back to the bed. "I'll wake you up in two hours then we'll do the assignment, okay?"
"Two hours?" I ask softly, he nods in agreement. Closing my eyes again I adjust myself for a nap. "Sam?"
He hums softly, part of the bed moves with a slight pressure against it. "Yeah."
"You're a good guy," I slowly fade away, mumbling whatever comes to mind before everything goes dark and numb. "Who can do so much better than settling for. . ."