By halftime Bryce Hamilton was ahead by three points. Xavier jogged over to the sideline where I ran to meet him.
“Thanks for coming,” he panted. “I know this probably isn’t your thing.” He gave me his endearing half-smile as he tipped a bottle of water over his head.
“You’re amazing out there,” I said, pushing back the wet hair that was plastered across his forehead. “But you’ve got to be careful, the Middleton boys are huge.”
“Skill over size,” he said.
I looked in anguish at a long scratch across his forearm. “How did this happen?”
“It’s just a scratch.” He laughed at my concern.
“It might be just a scratch to you, but it’s a scratch on my arm, which I don’t want to see damaged.”
“So is everything marked as property of Bethany Church or just the arm?”
“Every inch of you, so be careful.”
“Yes, Coach.”
“I’m serious. I hope you realize you can’t lecture me about safety ever again,” I said.
“Babe, injuries are inevitable. It’s all part of the game. You can play nurse afterward if you like.” He threw me a wink over his shoulder as the horn sounded for play to resume. “Don’t worry, I’m invincible.”
I watched him jog lightly back to his teammates and noticed that the boy in the leather jacket was still standing by the opposite sidelines. His hands were dug deep in his pockets. I still couldn’t see his face.
With ten minutes till the end of the game, the Bryce Hamilton boys looked as if they had victory in the bag. The opposition’s coach was doing a lot of head shaking and had to keep mopping sweat from his brow. His players looked furious and desperate. It didn’t take them long to employ dirtier tactics. Xavier had the ball and was running up the field when two of the Middleton players charged at him like freight trains from either side. Xavier swerved in an attempt to avoid a collision, but the others swerved with him and closed in. I cried out when one of them threw out his leg and caught Xavier around the ankle. It sent him tumbling forward so that the ball slipped from his grasp. I saw his head connect with the ground and his eyes snap shut as he winced in pain. The Bryce Hamilton players made a furious protest, and the referee blew his whistle to indicate foul play but it was too late.
Two boys ran over to help Xavier, who was still prostrate on the ground. He tried to get up but his left ankle was sticking out at a peculiar angle, and when he tried to put weight on it, he grimaced and slipped. His teammates supported him as they helped him over to a bench and the medic scurried over to examine the extent of the damage. He seemed unsteady—like he might be about to pass out.
From where I stood, I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I saw the medic shine a light in Xavier’s eyes and shake his head at the coach. Xavier gritted his teeth and dropped his head in frustration. I tried to push past the girls to get to him, but Molly restrained me.
“No, Beth, they know what they’re doing. You’ll just be in the way.”
Before I could argue, Xavier was being helped onto a stretcher and into the ambulance that was always waiting in the event of an accident. I stood frozen as the game resumed now that the crisis had passed. The ambulance drove off the track and onto the road. I noticed vaguely through my panic that the boy on the sidelines had disappeared.
“Where are they taking him?” I asked.
“To the hospital, of course,” Molly said. Her face softened when she saw my eyes fill with tears. “Hey, it didn’t look too serious—probably just a sprain. They’ll bandage him up and send him home. Look,” she pointed at the scoreboard. “We’re still going to beat them by six points.”
But I felt no cause for jubilation now and excused myself to get home to Gabriel and Ivy so I could ask them to drive me to the hospital. I summoned them in my mind as I ran, in case they weren’t at home. I was so distracted with worry for Xavier that I collided head-on with Jake Thorn in the parking lot.
“Well, somebody’s in a hurry,” he said, helping me up and brushing off the dust clinging to my coat. “What’s the problem?”
“Xavier had an accident during the rugby game,” I said, rubbing my eyes with my fists like a small child. At that point I couldn’t have cared less what I looked like—I just needed to see that Xavier was okay.
“Dear me,” Jake drawled. “That’s unfortunate—is it serious?”
“I don’t know,” I said, my voice choked. “They’ve taken him to hospital to be checked out.”
“I see,” Jake replied. “I’m sure he’ll be okay. It’s the nature of the game.”
“I should have known,” I said angrily, more to myself than to him.
“Known what?” Jake asked, peering closely at my face. “This isn’t your fault now, is it? Don’t cry. . . .”
He stepped forward and closed his arms around me in a hug. His embrace wasn’t anything like Xavier’s; his body was too lean and thin to be very comfortable, but I sobbed into his shirt all the same and let him hold me. When I tried to pull away, I found his arms still locked tightly around me and had to wriggle to break free.
“Sorry,” Jake said, a strange look in his eyes. “Just making sure you’re all right.”
“Thanks, Jake. But I really have to go now,” I said, tears stinging my eyes and my words spilling over one another.
I ran up the main steps and down the deserted central corridor of the school and saw with flooding relief the figures of Ivy and Gabriel heading toward me.
“We heard you calling,” Ivy said when I opened my mouth to tell her the story. “We know what happened.”
“I need to get to the hospital right away. I can help him!” I cried.
Gabriel stepped in front of me and grasped my shoulders. “Bethany, calm down! You can’t do that now, not if he’s already being looked after.”
“Why not?”
“Think for a moment, Bethany,” said Ivy in exasperation. “He’s already been taken to the hospital; his parents have already been notified. If his injury miraculously heals, how do you think everyone will react?”
“But he needs me.”
“What he needs is for you to be sensible about this,” replied Gabriel. “Xavier is young and healthy. His injury will heal naturally and no suspicions will be raised. If you want to speed up the process later, fine; but for now you need to keep your head. He’s not in any real danger.”
“Can I at least go and see him?” I asked, hating the fact that they were right, which also meant Xavier’s recovery would be delayed.
“Yes,” Gabriel replied. “We’ll all go.”
I didn’t like the local hospital. It was gray and sterile and the nurses’ shoes squeaked on the linoleum floor. I could feel grief and loss as I soon as I stepped through its automatic doors. I knew there were people there who would not recover; victims of car accidents or incurable diseases. At any given time someone could be in the process of losing a mother, father, husband, sister, or child. I could feel the pain contained within the walls like a stinging slap in the face. This was the place from which so many made their journey to Heaven. I was reminded of the many souls whose transition I had been able to ease—it was remarkable the number of people who reconnected with their faith in their last days on earth. There were so many souls here in desperate need of guidance, of reassurance, and it was my duty to attend to them. But, as usual, the moment I pictured Xavier’s face, any feelings of responsibility or guilt dissolved from my mind, and I could think of nothing but finding him.
I followed Ivy and Gabriel quickly down the wide passageway with fluorescent lighting and hospital furniture. Xavier was in a room on the fifth floor. His entire family were leaving as we arrived and they spilled out into the passageway.
“Oh, Beth!” exclaimed Bernie when she saw me, and suddenly I was surrounded by members of Xavier’s family, all passing on pieces of information as to his condition. Gabriel and Ivy watched in amazement.
“Thanks for coming, hon,” said Ber
nie. “Give her some space, everyone. He’s fine, Beth, don’t look so worried—although he could do with some cheering up.”
She cast an inquiring look at Gabriel and Ivy. “This must be your brother and sister.” She extended her hand by way of greeting, and my siblings shook it in turn. I left them to deal with introductions and slipped quietly into Xavier’s room. One bed was empty; the other had its curtains drawn.
“Knock, knock,” I said softly.
“Beth?” Xavier’s voice came from inside. “Come in!” He was sitting propped up on the bed with a blue tag around his wrist. “What took you so long?” he said, his eyes lighting up when he saw me.
I ran to the side of the bed, grabbed his face in my hands and examined it. Gabe and Ivy waited outside, not wanting to intrude.
“So much for being invincible,” I said. “How’s your ankle?”
He lifted off an ice pack to reveal his ankle, which was swollen to twice its size. “They’ve taken X-rays and it’s fractured. They’ll have to put a cast on as soon as the swelling goes down. Looks like I’ll be on crutches for a while.”
“Well, that’s a nuisance but not the end of the world. It’ll give me a chance to look after you for a change.”
“I’ll be fine,” Xavier said. “They’re keeping me overnight for observation, but I’ll be home in the morning. I just have to keep my weight off the foot for a few weeks. . . .”
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” I said, trying to keep my voice level.
“There’s something else.” Xavier looked uncomfortable, almost embarrassed to be admitting any sort of weakness.
“What is it?” I asked gently.
“Apparently I have a concussion,” he said, emphasising the word “apparently” as though he didn’t take it seriously. “I told them I’m fine, but they won’t listen. I have to stay in bed for the next few days—doctor’s orders.”
“That sounds serious,” I said. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Xavier said. “I just have a killer headache.”
“Well, I’ll look after you,” I said. “I don’t mind.”
“Beth, you’re forgetting something.”
“I know, I know,” I said. “You don’t like feeling like an invalid—but that’s what you get for playing a rough game like—”
“No, Beth, you don’t understand.” Xavier shook his head in frustration. “The prom is this Friday.”
I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“I don’t care about that!” I said, my voice falsely cheerful. “I just won’t go.”
“You have to go. You’ve been looking forward to this for weeks, Ivy made your dress, the limos are all booked, and everybody is expecting you.”
“But I only want to go with you,” I said. “It won’t mean anything to me otherwise.”
“I’m so sorry this happened,” he said, clenching his hand into a fist. “I’m an idiot.”
“Xavier, it wasn’t your fault.”
“I should have been more careful.” The anger drained out of his face and his expression softened. “Please say you’ll go,” he said. “Then I won’t feel so guilty. I don’t want you to miss out because of me. We might not be there together, but you can still have a good time. This is the event of the year, and I want you to tell me all about it.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“Please? Do it for me?”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, if you’re going to resort to emotional blackmail I can hardly say no.” I knew Xavier would feel guilty for the next five years if I missed the prom on his account.
“Then it’s settled?”
“All right, but just know that I’ll be thinking about you all night.”
He smiled. “Make sure someone takes photos.”
“Will you come over before I leave?” I asked. “So you can see me in my dress?”
“I’ll get someone to drive me. I’m not missing that for the world.”
“I hate leaving you here,” I said, sinking down in the chair beside his bed. “With no one to keep you company.”
“I’ll be fine,” he reassured me. “If I know Mom, she’ll probably set up a cot and spend the night.”
“Yes, but you’ll need something to keep you occupied.”
Xavier nodded toward the small bedside table, where a thick black book with gold lettering lay half open. “I can always read the Bible and learn more about eternal damnation.”
“Is that your idea of entertainment?” I asked sarcastically.
“It’s a pretty dramatic story—good old Lucifer, spicing things up a bit.”
“Do you know the whole story?” I asked.
“I know that Lucifer was an archangel,” he said as I raised an eyebrow in surprise. “He went off the rails in a big way.”
“So you were paying attention at Sunday school,” I said jokingly. “His name actually means ‘light giver.’ In the Kingdom, he used to be Our Father’s favorite. He was created to be elite in beauty and intelligence. He was consulted in times of trouble, and all the other angels held him in the highest esteem.”
“But he wasn’t satisfied,” Xavier added.
“No,” I said. “He became arrogant. He resented human beings, couldn’t understand why Our Father thought they were His greatest creation. He believed that only angels should be exalted, and started to think he could overthrow God.”
“And that’s when he was booted out.”
“Yes. Our Father heard his thoughts and cast him out, along with his followers. Lucifer got his wish and became Our Father’s counterpart, ruler of the Underworld, and all the other fallen angels became demons.”
“Do you know anything about what it’s like down there?” Xavier asked.
I shook my head.
“I don’t, but Gabriel does. He knew Lucifer. They were brothers—all the archangels were. But he never talks about it.”
The conversation was cut short when Gabriel and Ivy poked their heads through the curtain to see how the patient was doing.
“Are you serious?” Molly looked horrified. “I thought they were just taking him to a hospital as a precaution. He actually has a concussion? This is a disaster! You’re going to be dateless for the prom!”
I was starting to regret having said anything. Her reaction wasn’t doing anything to lift my spirits. The prom was supposed to be a magical night spent with Xavier that I would remember always. Now it was ruined.
“I don’t want to go at all,” I said. “I’m only going because Xavier wants me to.”
She sighed. “That is so sweet of him.”
“I know and that’s why I don’t care about being dateless.”
“We’ll think of something,” Molly said reassuringly. “There must be someone who can step in at the last minute. Let me think about it.”
I knew what she was thinking. She was imagining the start of the prom, when couples would make their entrance together and have their photos professionally taken. Turning up alone would be tantamount to social suicide.
As it turned out, Molly needn’t have bothered trying to find a solution as one presented itself that very afternoon.
I was sitting with Jake Thorn in our usual place at the back of the literature classroom. He was scribbling in his journal in silence as I struggled to focus on the final verse of our joint poem.
“You know this is quite difficult seeing as you’ve written it from a male perspective,” I complained.
“My sincerest apologies,” Jake replied with his usual exaggerated manners. “But feel free to take some creative license. The first verse may be from a man to a woman, but the next could easily be the reverse. Don’t take forever about it, Beth. I’m over this assignment. Let’s get it done so we can talk about more interesting things.”
“I can’t be rushed,” I said brusquely. “I don’t know about you, but I want to do well on this.”
“Why? It’s not like you need the grades.”
“Excuse me? Why would
n’t I?”
“Doing well is pretty much a given—Miss Castle likes me.” He smirked, and went back to writing in his notebook. I didn’t ask what he was writing, and he didn’t offer to divulge anything.
Jake’s suggestion had freed my imagination, and it was a lot easier to come up with the next lines now that I could write them about Xavier. All I had to do was picture his face and the words flowed as though my pen had a life of its own. In fact, the four-line stanza I had been allocated hardly seemed enough. I felt as if I could fill every notebook in the world with my thoughts about him. I could devote pages to describing his voice, his touch, his smell, and every other detail of his person. And so before I knew it, my fluid script sat beneath Jake’s swirling calligraphy. It now read,
“That works,” Jake said. “There may be a poet in you after all.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “What have you been so busy working on?”
“Jottings . . . observations,” he answered.
“What have you observed so far?”
“Just that people are so gullible and so predictable.”
“Do you hold that against them?”
“I think it’s pathetic.” He sounded so bitter that I shrank away from him. “They’re so easy to figure out,” he continued. “It’s not even challenging.”
“People don’t exist for your recreation,” I protested. “They’re not a hobby.”
“They are for me. Most are an open book . . . except for you. You puzzle me.”
“Me?” I feigned a laugh. “There’s nothing puzzling about me. I’m just like everyone else.”
Halo Page 29