by L. M. Reed
~ * * ~
My race was at 1:20 the next day, but I had to be there an hour before the race started in order to pick up my timing chip. Once that was done, I stretched some more and tried to find some energy.
My lack of sleep the night before was telling on me. Suddenly running was such an effort I didn’t know if I could do it.
Against my will, I had replayed the scene with Mark over and over in my head all night, I couldn’t help it, and I remembered seeing three o’clock, hopelessly wondering if the night was ever going to end. I wasn’t sure what time I finally fell asleep, but I woke at six feeling like I hadn’t slept at all.
At 1:20 on the dot, the gun went off, and I mechanically began running, but somehow I got tripped from behind before we’d gone very far.
If I had been more alert, I might have been able to save myself from falling or at least been able to compensate and keep my injuries to a minimum but, as it was, my reactions were so sluggish that I flew forward landing almost flat out on the ground.
I heard the gun go off again, signaling the runners back to the start, and realized that we hadn’t even gone 100 meters.
I felt hands turning me over and heard Coach Miller asking me if I was all right. I was a little dazed—whether from the fall or my sleepless night I didn’t know—and had trouble concentrating enough to form an answer.
I sat up and examined myself cautiously. Although I was dirty, my right arm bleeding at the elbow—it seemed to have taken the brunt of the landing—and my right knee scraped up, overall it didn’t look too bad. I thought I’d still be able to race.
Hands reached down to help me up and that was when the pain hit. My ankle…I couldn’t put any pressure on my ankle. I cried out and suddenly Nick was there gently lowering me back down to the ground. I hadn’t seen him arrive.
After that, I had to wait until the standby ambulance arrived to move me, not yet sure if my ankle was broken or just sprained. I heard the restarting of the race from the back of the ambulance, lying on a gurney, foot elevated and totally obscured by all the ice packs attached to it.
I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Nick and Coach Miller were arguing somewhere close by, and I strained to hear. Even though they were talking in low tones and I couldn’t make out what they were saying, I was pretty sure it was about me.
“Nick?” I called out anxiously.
He hopped up into the ambulance, squatting down next to me.
“How’re you feeling?”
“What are you and Coach Miller arguing about?”
“Nothing you need…”
“It’s about me and I have a right to know.”
“You do,” Nick sighed heavily, “Let me go get your coach.”
He left and returned in less than a minute with Coach Miller.
“How’s the ankle?”
“Not too bad,” I answered. “Sorry about the race,” I said apologetically, “The girl behind me must have accidentally tripped me.”
“Right, accidentally,” Coach Miller said sarcastically.
“Coach,” Nick warned. Turning to me Nick said, “Coach Miller wants to take you to the hospital emergency room to have your ankle x-rayed.”
“NO!” I wanted to stay as far away from hospitals as I could. I added more calmly, “I’m sure it’s not broken, just a bad sprain.”
“But we shouldn’t take any chances,” the coach argued.
“I want to go home,” I stated firmly. “Mom can take me to the emergency room there if I need to go.”
“But…”
“I’ve had a sprain like this before and I know what it feels like,” I interrupted her. “I am eighteen, I’ll sign whatever you need me to sign, but I don’t want to go to a hospital when I know it’s just a sprain.”
“What about your mom?” she asked still anxious.
“Hand me my back pack.”
Before the race, I had given it to Coach Miller to hold for me.
She passed it to me and I pulled out my cell phone to call Mom’s number. She answered immediately.
“CeeCee…how did the race go?”
“I sprained my ankle,” I replied bluntly. “I need you to tell Coach Miller that it’s okay for me to come home without having to get an x-ray here.”
“Are you alright?” Mom asked anxiously.
“It feels just like last time, you remember, in junior high when I had that bad sprain,” I assured her. “I do not want to go through what I had to go through with that one. Please don’t make me.”
I knew I shouldn’t play on Mom’s guilt, but I had no intention of going to the hospital emergency room. Mom had insisted on making a huge deal of my sprained ankle then, insisting it was broken, taking me for x-ray after x-ray until Dad finally put his foot down.
He’d known all along it was just a sprain, but Mom had panicked.
“I won’t, I promise,” Mom replied.
“Thanks…here…talk to Coach Miller,” I handed her my phone. Coach Miller listened for a bit then said, “Okay, I understand. There’s someone else here who wants to talk to you,” she handed the phone over to Nick.
“Allison, I’ll make sure CeeCee gets home alright if you can clear it with her coach,” he listened for a bit then gave the phone back to Coach Miller.
I was getting dizzy. It was like watching a tennis match.
“No problem,” Coach Miller said into the phone. “I’ll call and check on her tomorrow. Bye.”
The phone finally made its way back to me. I was a lot of trouble.
“If you’ll find someone to let me in, I’ll go get my pickup,” Nick suggested.
“I’m on it,” Coach replied and left.
“I’ll be right back,” Nick squeezed my hand and was gone.
Although it took some doing, and quite a bit of time, I finally found myself installed in Nick’s front seat, leaned back as far as I could go, with my ice-wrapped foot elevated on the dashboard. Surprisingly, I was comfortable.
I knew it wouldn’t be long before sleep took over, but there were some things I wanted to find out first. I waited until Nick had merged onto I35 before I bombarded him with questions.
“Does Coach Miller really think that girl tripped me on purpose?”
“Your coach could find a conspiracy at an Easter Egg Hunt,” Nick replied in disgust. “The girl was just inexperienced and overeager. She was in tears over what happened.”
“Poor thing,” I commiserated with the absent girl.
“You don’t seem that upset about not finishing the race,” Nick commented frowning. “Why?”
I shrugged lethargically. “There are a lot worse things in the world. Speaking of which, have you talked to Mark since…”
I trailed off, too tired to think of a word to describe the previous day’s fiasco.
“No, he was out late and still asleep when I left this morning,” Nick admitted. “I’m not sure when I’ll see him next, since he’s stopped going to church.”
“He’s what?”
I was shocked; Mark always went to church. I was the horrid sinner full of doubts who had refused to darken the doorway of a church building for a whole year.
That scared me. It was official; she completely controlled him.
“I’m sorry I kept things from you,” Nick apologized again. “He knows deep down there’s something wrong with what he’s doing or else he wouldn’t have hid it from you and your mom for so long. I thought he would come around by now, but it seems I was wrong. I plan to quit treating him with kid gloves from now on.”
“Nick,” I said in alarm, “Don’t alienate him. It won’t help. He’s apparently ready to give up everything and everybody for that…witch. He needs you.”
“I can’t condone his behavior, CeeCee.”
“I know, just…don’t attack Laticia. I think that’s where I made my mistake.”
“I’ll keep th
at in mind.”
“Good.”
Suddenly, I couldn’t fight my tired and heavy eyelids any longer. The rest of my questions would just have to wait.