by Cassie Mae
“What are you doing?”
“I’m calling 911.”
The voices float over my head, and I can’t figure out who they belong to, or what they mean. I try to open my eyes, move my arms, something, but none of my limbs want to work.
“We can’t just… take him to the hospital?”
“I’m not moving him. I don’t know what that son of a bitch did, and I don’t want to risk making it worse.”
I force my voice up my throat. “Hunter?”
Hot air hits my face, but my eyes refuse to open. “Tyler, damn it, what happened?”
I don’t answer. It hurts and it takes too much concentration to just breathe.
The second voice floats over my head again. “I…I’ll call 911.”
Footsteps fade away, along with the voice, and I feel something on my shoulder.
“Can you stay awake?”
I don’t even know if I’m awake now. None of my body parts want to work. I can’t even nod at my brother, or tell him I’m gonna be fine or to stop being a damn girl. I can’t joke this away or hide it or… anything. I can’t do anything.
“Damn it, Tyler. Don’t you dare wimp out on me. You can deal with this. Just like a tackle from a three-hundred pound linebacker.”
Hunter’s head hits mine, and I hear his harsh breathing, feel it against the cuts on my face, and his voice croaks as he talks to me. I don’t catch a lot, but I feel his panic, and I force myself to stay coherent enough to at least know he’s sitting here in the dirt with me.
It seems like hours there, Hunter talking to me, then he’s… not. Hands are on me, moving me. Everything hurts like hell, and my voice breaks through, saying who the hell knows what. I still can’t see, and that’s freaking me out more than anything else. Someone’s talking to Hunter and the other voice which I now have enough sense to know it’s a girl. And by the way she’s talking, it has to be one of Sam’s friends.
But where is Sam?
Shit… where is Sam?
“Sam… where’s…” My voice is muffled. What’s on my face? There’s something cold on my arm. Sharp, brief pain in the crook of my elbow. Hunter says something about riding with me, and I try… I really try to stay awake, but I get that falling feeling again. I’m tumbling into oblivion. Not even the panic over Sam’s whereabouts can keep me awake through the blackness.
***
In a perfect world, Sam and I would be together without any secrets, without the worry of our friends finding out, or our enemies.
In a perfect world, football would be only about the game. No rivalry outside of the field. Just the ball. The yards. The turf.
In a perfect world, when people fall in love, they do what they do in all those princess movies Parker makes me watch.
They live happily ever after.
I’m in that perfect world for a moment. I know it’s a dream, because it’s too perfect to be real. But it feels good to be there, and it sucks leaving…especially since I wake up to a sharp pain in my stomach and an annoying steady beep.
My vision’s blurry, but after a couple blinks things crawl into focus. Mom’s asleep on my left near my elbow, she’s in her robe and slippers, hand loose on top of mine. Dad’s in the corner with Parker on his lap. The feather poking from Parker’s crown is hitting his nose, and he twitches and bats at it in his sleep.
Hunter’s on my right, leaning on the heel of his hand as he nods in and out of sleep. His right knuckles look swollen.
I know my body is in pain, but I can’t grasp on to it long enough to notice it more than a few seconds at a time. The drip of the IV makes me sleepy, and the world feels a bit tilted. My arm twitches, and Hunter shifts, blinking his eyes open and connecting them with mine.
“Tyler?” he croaks.
I swallow hard and push out my voice. “You’re not gonna cry are ya?” I force a smile, but wince at the sharp pain I get in my cheek.
He lets out one small laugh that gets swallowed up by a sigh of relief. “I won’t, but I can’t promise anything from them.” He waves his hand around the room. Parker jerks in her sleep, then falls still. Mom and Dad are out.
“How…?” I ask, then my throat locks up. Hunter reaches for the nurse button, but I find enough strength to stop him.
“You wanna know how you got to the hospital?” he asks, inching away from the remote. “According to your friend Paige, some jackass beat the living shit out of you.”
I shake my head, but it rocks my brain too much so I stop. “I don’t…I don’t have a friend named Paige.”
“Well, that’s who called me. She said she found you by the airport, grabbed your phone, and hit the last call in there. Lucky it was me, huh?”
My lip pulls up, but my cheek hurts like hell when I do that. I wince and try to touch my face.
“Yeah,” Hunter says, nodding at me. “Ten stitches, so don’t touch ‘em.”
I bring my hand back down. “Would it give me more credit if I said he had brass knuckles?”
“Did he?” Hunter’s tone gets serious and he tenses in his seat.
I let out a breath. “No.”
We’re quiet, and the beep from the monitor next to my head pulls me out of any sleep I fall into.
“Dammit, Tyler.” He breaks the silence. “I thought… man, I thought when I saw you…”
“Hunt,” a voice squeaks. Parker slides off Dad’s knees and pads her way to our brother’s lap. “Don’t swear.”
I try not to laugh since it hurts so damn bad, but I can’t help it. Hunter sniffs, pulls Parker close while she reaches for my hand. Her small fingers tuck into mine, and Hunter sniffs again. I told him not to cry, and it looks like he’s trying. I want to tease him about it, but Park’s hand in mine almost makes me lose it, so saying anything would give me away.
Just when I think I’m about to doze back off, a thought slams into my head so hard it jerks me out of the drug haze. My whole body tenses and I try to sit up, but sharp pain shoots through my gut.
“Sam.”
Hunter raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“Sam. Where is she? Is she okay?”
Hunter slowly shakes his head, mouth partly open. “Uh, I don’t know who Sam is.”
I look to Parker, but she’s fallen back asleep on Hunter’s shoulder. “She’s… she was with me when… did he hurt her?” He wouldn’t hurt her, would he? They’re family. But then foggy images of him holding her back, the strain of his muscles, the tightness of her jaw…
I sit up, trying to ignore the pain, desperate to get to a phone, or to the front desk, or anywhere. Somewhere.
My brother pushes me back down, and I know he’s being soft about it, but it hurts like hell.
“No one was with you, besides that Paige girl. And she was fine.”
Paige. Why do I not know who Paige is?
“Is she here? I gotta find Sam.”
“After she talked to the cops I think she went home.”
“Paige? Cops?” What the hell?
“Okay, I’m calling the nurse now. Don’t stop me.”
I don’t. I fall back on the pillow and try to get my brain to function. But it’s on repeat. Sam. Sam. Sam. Sam. Sam.
A weight slams on my chest, pushing tears out of my eyes in painful, sharp, waves. No one knows my girlfriend. No one knows who she is, or where she is, or if she’s okay. And I don’t know her friends, or anyone I can reach to find out anything about her.
The nurse comes in and messes around my body, and I lie there and let her, wishing I could rewind to that moment I told Sam we needed to keep us a secret.
And I’d change it.
My eyes burn like I have sand in them, gritty and painful from trying to bury my tears away. Paige still hasn’t called or returned my texts, so I don’t know what’s happening and I don’t know what to do about it.
It’s been two and a half hours.
Nothing’s changed, passage of time that means nothing. The endless circle of day and night that stretches in front of me
is so long and vast I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to cross it.
That’s how it was after Dad died.
The agonizing slow pass of time. You want it to pass. You want it to fly by so that you feel better, but it mocks you by ticking slowly and steadily along never changing.
I had to plug my phone in because it was dying from me constantly checking it, hoping that maybe word came through my phone without it alerting me. I can’t possibly understand why she hasn’t called or texted yet. She has to know that I’m freaking the hell out. And I don’t know Hunter’s or Daniels’ or Jacoby’s or anyone else’s number that I could possibly call to see if he’s okay. His phone goes straight to voicemail so I don’t know if it was wrecked in the fight.
With each minute that ticks by my heart hurts more and more. I want to crawl out of my own skin and be a shadow so I could fly to wherever he is and make sure he’s okay.
Bing!
I start to shake so bad I can barely turn the phone on. “Paige. Is he okay? Where is he? How badly is he hurt? Why didn’t you call sooner? What happened?”
“Open the door. I’m downstairs,” Paige says and then hangs up.
It takes me a second. Did she really just call me? Or was it my imagination like all the other times I wanted her to call me so bad?
No. She called.
I throw my phone on my mattress and race to the front door, Tyler’s shirt still in my hand. My breathing comes in short quick pants, and I have to pause at the front door so I don’t jump on her.
She stops me from saying anything as soon as I open the door by holding up a finger, motioning to all the waiting Skyhawks behind her. “Wait till we get to your room.”
All I can do is nod, because if I talk I won’t be able to stop the questions and we’ll never make it upstairs.
I’m barely hanging on and when we hit the first step, I lose it.
A sob escapes my throat before I can stop it, and the tears I’ve pushed away unleash in a fury.
Paige turns and takes me into her arms. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. He’s okay. He’s hurt, but he’ll be okay.”
I can’t say anything past the sobs, but for the first time in the past four hours, I can breathe just a tiny bit easier.
She walks me the rest of the way upstairs, and we sit on my bed. Nothing is said for a while, I don’t know how long. She just holds me, rocking me and rubbing my back.
When I calm down enough to move, my eyes feel puffy and I have snot all over my face, but I don’t really care right now. I pull the bottom of my t-shirt up and wipe my cheeks.
“He’s okay?”
Paige nods and grabs my hands and then takes a deep breath. She tells me about the airport, about not recognizing Tyler, how she called his brother and then the police and then suddenly there’s an ambulance in her story. My chest feels like it's being flattened by an anvil of guilt, of worry, of terror. I can't seem to move. Paige grabs my hand and says something about filing a police report. How Tyler will probably have to file one too. How I should probably say something, do something, but I don't want to do anything until I talk to Brad while he’s sober. Figure out what the hell happened to him tonight.
She pauses and rubs her forehead.
I don’t say anything, just wait for her to continue. At least I know Tyler got some help. He’s safe now.
“After the ambulance left, the police wanted to know what happened. They had me come down to the station and file a report. I swear I was at the station forever.”
“What did you tell them?”
“Just that I was driving past and saw him lying on the side of the road.”
She squeezes my hand, and I make the sides of my mouth turn up. “Thank you.”
Her face turns down. “So, what really happened?”
“Brad… he—”
“I can’t believe him.” She stops and a stricken look passes across her face. “It’s my fault isn’t it?”
“What? Why do you think that?”
“He saw me here last night without you. I was supposed to be your alibi.”
“It’s not your fault. This one is totally on me.”
She shakes her head. “No. It’s not either of our faults. It’s Brad’s. He’s the one who has anger issues.”
I flick my gaze to her, and it’s like a club hits me over the face. Anger issues. I never considered them, never thought about it. I just thought he got in fights because of the rivalry, but thinking of the home he lives in, the way alcohol affects his father, it makes complete sense.
“Do you think I did the right thing?” I ask her. “Leaving him and going with Brad, I mean. I feel so horrible. I just couldn’t get Brad to stop. It’s like he became a completely different person and there was no getting through to him. I love Tyler so much, and I just left him there. How could I do that? He was just lying there on the ground, bloody and beaten. And I just left him.” Tears rush down my face again. “What kind of person does that?”
“You listen to me Samantha Jane Nolan. You are not a bad person. You did the only thing you could at the time to protect Tyler. It was six strong football players against you and him. Who knows when Brad would’ve stopped if you didn’t stop him.”
Her words are nice, and I know are meant to make me feel better, but I can’t let them. I can’t believe I didn’t see Brad’s anger before. How I never thought he would do that. And how he could misconstrue my relationship with Tyler for something that has to do with the rivalry.
And I just pretended like the rivalry wasn’t a big deal, and now…
“I left him,” I whisper. “I left him and went with Brad, who just beat the crap out of the person who means more to me than almost everything.” I look down at Tyler’s shirt in my lap, wishing I could stick my face in it and go back to the night he gave it to me.
She puts her hands on either side of my face and makes me look at her. “You did what you had to.”
I nod, but don’t believe her. I had a choice tonight. And I chose Brad.
I meet her eyes. “I’m really tired. Thanks for taking care of Tyler for me. It means more to me than you’ll ever know. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? I just really want to get some sleep.”
“Okay, but you’re gonna have to do it with me here. I’m not leaving you.”
Normally, I’d argue, but I don’t. I let her stay. We sleep in my bed and I let her comfort me. For once I don’t have to depend on myself to get me through something. I don’t have to be the strongest one. I have Paige here to help me, and it takes a stronger person to take the help when they need it than to deny that they need help.
When I start to drift, I remember the night Tyler slept next to me, his breath warm on the back of my neck. The way I felt being in his arms, safe and taken care of for the first time in a long time. The way he’d look at me. The way he’d play with Josh and the patience he has for him. The way the hole in my heart was filled.
And now it’s going to be empty again. I can’t see him anymore. I can’t risk him getting hurt again. There’s too much at stake. His life. His football career. His happiness.
I love him too much.
But I love him too much to be without him too. Paige’s light snores fill the room, and the light of my phone is bright in the darkness. I pull up his number and hit send. It goes straight to voicemail. The sound of his voice forms a large lump in my throat that I can’t swallow down. I quickly end the call so that I don’t wind up leaving him a croaking message.
First thing in the morning I’m at that hospital, whether I have to go through the whole Skyhawk football team or not.
“What time did you say?” the cop with the report asks. I glance at Mom who hasn’t stopped staring at my swollen lip since she woke up.
“I don’t know. Maybe midnight? It was late.”
I’ve gone over the story twice now. I was jumped, beaten more in my gut than my face, and left on the side of the road. Yeah… I was trespassing. Whoops. But I’m pretty sure tha
t’s the least important thing right now.
A pounding knocks against my skull, and I lean back into my pillow and squeeze my eyes shut. I hear Mom clear her throat.
“What will happen to those boys, Officer?” Her voice is tight, and Dad shifts next to her. I tap my fist against my forehead, wanting to disappear from the room. According to Officer Cook, since I won’t tell them any names, just that they were Skyhawks, the cops have to investigate and shit. I just want to go home.
“We’ll talk to the coach, some of the players. Unless we get some proof of the assault, that’s all we can do for now.”
Dad shoots to his feet, scaring my eyes open.
“Isn’t my son’s face proof enough?” he growls. I know he wants to yell, but he’s keeping as calm as he can. Mom whimpers next to me, and ah hell, I can’t deal with it. I don’t want to throw Sam’s family under the bus until I’ve talked with her.
“Trust me, Mr. Koontz, we’re not letting this drop. Given the history between the two teams I imagine evidentiary support will present itself sooner rather than later. Let us go through the steps.” Officer Cook turns to me. “You sure you don’t remember anyone involved?”
Not anyone else… I was hit face-first. Everything I remember is blurry, bloody, and makes my head hurt thinking about it.
“They were Skyhawks. Probably on the team, but… I can’t be positive.”
“’Kay. Thanks, son.” He rips a page from his clipboard and hands it to Dad. “I’ll keep in touch.”
“Thank you, Officer,” Mom says. I let out a sigh of relief when he leaves. I need some damn sleep. All I’ve been doing is talking and thinking. My throat is dry and my head spent.
“When can we get out of here?” I ask my parents. Dad runs his hand over his coat on the back of his seat and gently taps Mom.
“I’ll check with the doctor.” He squeezes Mom’s shoulder, gives her a look, and I roll my eyes and tell her to go with him because I’m fine. I’m going to try to sleep anyway.
She kisses my hand before they leave, and when I’m finally left to the quiet of my room, I slide down on the bed and let my eyes drift closed.
It’s easier to stop talking than it is to stop thinking. My overrun brain doesn’t get the memo that it’s time to shut down, and it keeps replaying Sam in my head, her sad eyes when she asked me never to leave her. At the time I never thought I could. I thought nothing could be worse than being without her… but this, staying with her, it’s worse. It’s dangerous. And I was naïve to think we could get away with it—that it wouldn’t bite us in the ass. She chose Nolan over me to protect me. I get it. I’m glad she did because I wanted her away from it… and selfishly, yeah, I really didn’t want them to go so far they broke something. But if she came back, if we kept it up, what would happen to us? I can’t make her choose between me and her family at seventeen. That’s batshit crazy.