I got nearer, the figure
turned out to be a sign with a shrub in front of it.
"Damn,"
I muttered.
Just then a cat
darted out of the shrub and into the street. My hand jerked the wheel and I
stomped on the brake.
"Damn!"
* * * * *
Damn. My school locker must have fallen on me, I
thought. Get this thing off my chest or
I'll miss math class. But no matter how much effort I exerted, my arms
wouldn't move. I also couldn't lift my lids. They seemed glued shut. Did I leave glue uncapped in the locker?
Math class was definitely out.
I heard a groan
that seemed far away until I realized it was me.
"Open your
eyes, Tara. You can do it," Gran's voice urged me.
The accompanying
pat on my hand somehow gave me the strength to pry open my lids to see her
beloved face over me.
"Math
class." The words sounded like a shout in my head but a whisper to my
ears.
"What,
honey?" Gran asked.
The events of the
night came rushing into my head: the date, the guilt, the pain, the happiness,
the kisses, the guilt again...the shrub.
"Did I hit
the cat?"
"You didn't
hit anything but a bus stop," Gran said, wiping a tear as it slipped down
one cheek. "You could have been killed."
"What time is
it?"
Gran glanced at
her watch. "Eight thirty."
I tried to sit up
and Gran held me down.
"Lie still.
You're in the hospital. You have a concussion and bruised ribs. You'll be all
right. But they want you to stay overnight for observation."
"I have to
get to school. Maybe I can talk to Liam. Or I could go by Keagan's school
first—"
"It's eight
thirty at night, Tara. School is over."
The meaning of what
she was telling me didn't register for a few seconds. When it did, a chant
began in my head. No. No. No....
Rolling out from
under Gran's hand and out of bed, I landed with my bare feet on the cold
linoleum. Fortunately, my shaking legs held me up.
"The game
started at six thirty. I don't have much time left. I'm checking myself
out."
A draft hit my
bare bum under the hospital gown, reminding me I needed clothes. Scanning the
room, I saw a locker on one wall and took a chance my clothes would be inside.
I stumbled over to it and found I was right. Gran was on my heels talking. When
I started to put on my skirt, she tried to grab it.
"Do I have to
call security to keep you here?" she asked. "You can't check yourself
out. You're a minor and I'm your guardian."
With my after
accident shakiness, I was barely a match for my seventy-two year old
grandmother, but I did manage to get the skirt on in spite of her efforts.
"I have to get to the stadium right now."
"No,"
she said, taking the other garments out of the locker and holding them hostage.
"Get back into that bed and rest."
Holding her
shoulders, I locked eyes with her. "Gran. If you stop me and Liam dies,
I'll never get over it. I don't think I can survive it. Don't you understand?
Liam, Keagan and me. We'll all be lost."
Gran stared at me
for a few moments before finally handing me the rest of the clothes.
"Okay. I'll drive you."
We didn't even
talk to anyone, just walking straight out. But still it seemed an eternity to
get to Gran's car in the parking lot. For once I thanked heavens Gran was a
terrible driver because even breaking every traffic law to get to the stadium
didn't ease the excruciating slowness of the trip. If she'd driven like the
typical senior, I'd have gone crazy.
Finally, the
stadium lights came into view in the distance, taunting me. So close but yet...
It was almost 9 p.m. Was the game over already? Was Liam dead? Was Keagan lost?
Marbles rolled
around in my bruised head—or it felt that way—and I lifted a hand
to the bandage on my forehead in pain as we whipped around a corner. A few of
those marbles must have slipped down into my lungs too, because I was having a
hard time breathing either from fear or from the bruised ribs.
Gran pulled up and
let me out in front of the entry and I rushed in. As I reached the outer
corridor, a roaring cheer from the stands
turned out to be a sign with a shrub in front of it.
"Damn,"
I muttered.
Just then a cat
darted out of the shrub and into the street. My hand jerked the wheel and I
stomped on the brake.
"Damn!"
* * * * *
Damn. My school locker must have fallen on me, I
thought. Get this thing off my chest or
I'll miss math class. But no matter how much effort I exerted, my arms
wouldn't move. I also couldn't lift my lids. They seemed glued shut. Did I leave glue uncapped in the locker?
Math class was definitely out.
I heard a groan
that seemed far away until I realized it was me.
"Open your
eyes, Tara. You can do it," Gran's voice urged me.
The accompanying
pat on my hand somehow gave me the strength to pry open my lids to see her
beloved face over me.
"Math
class." The words sounded like a shout in my head but a whisper to my
ears.
"What,
honey?" Gran asked.
The events of the
night came rushing into my head: the date, the guilt, the pain, the happiness,
the kisses, the guilt again...the shrub.
"Did I hit
the cat?"
"You didn't
hit anything but a bus stop," Gran said, wiping a tear as it slipped down
one cheek. "You could have been killed."
"What time is
it?"
Gran glanced at
her watch. "Eight thirty."
I tried to sit up
and Gran held me down.
"Lie still.
You're in the hospital. You have a concussion and bruised ribs. You'll be all
right. But they want you to stay overnight for observation."
"I have to
get to school. Maybe I can talk to Liam. Or I could go by Keagan's school
first—"
"It's eight
thirty at night, Tara. School is over."
The meaning of what
she was telling me didn't register for a few seconds. When it did, a chant
began in my head. No. No. No....
Rolling out from
under Gran's hand and out of bed, I landed with my bare feet on the cold
linoleum. Fortunately, my shaking legs held me up.
"The game
started at six thirty. I don't have much time left. I'm checking myself
out."
A draft hit my
bare bum under the hospital gown, reminding me I needed clothes. Scanning the
room, I saw a locker on one wall and took a chance my clothes would be inside.
I stumbled over to it and found I was right. Gran was on my heels talking. When
I started to put on my skirt, she tried to grab it.
"Do I have to
call security to keep you here?" she asked. "You can't check yourself
out. You're a minor and I'm your guardian."
With my after
accident shakiness, I was barely a match for my seventy-two year old
grandmother, but I did manage to get the skirt on in spite of her efforts.
"I have to get to the stadium right now."
"No,"
she said, taking the other garments out of the locker and holding them hostage.
"Get back into that bed and rest."
Holding her
shoulders, I locked eyes with her. "Gran. If you stop me and Liam dies,
I'll never get over it. I don't think I can survive it. Don't you understand?
Liam, Keagan and me. We'll all be lost."
Gran stared at me
for a few moments before finally handing me the rest of the clothes.
"Okay. I'll drive you."
We didn't even
talk to anyone, just walking straight out. But still it seemed an eternity to
get to Gran's car in the parking lot. For once I thanked heavens Gran was a
terrible driver because even breaking every traffic law to get to the stadium
didn't ease the excruciating slowness of the trip. If she'd driven like the
typical senior, I'd have gone crazy.
Finally, the
stadium lights came into view in the distance, taunting me. So close but yet...
It was almost 9 p.m. Was the game over already? Was Liam dead? Was Keagan lost?
Marbles rolled
around in my bruised head—or it felt that way—and I lifted a hand
to the bandage on my forehead in pain as we whipped around a corner. A few of
those marbles must have slipped down into my lungs too, because I was having a
hard time breathing either from fear or from the bruised ribs.
Gran pulled up and
let me out in front of the entry and I rushed in. As I reached the outer
corridor, a roaring cheer from the stands
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