They skated down the ice into the defensive zone.
I back-checked hard, skating with a force that made my heart pound in my chest.
Sweat dripped into my eyes. The pain in my shoulder was intense, but I kept going.
Theo and I traveled side-by-side, doing quick loop-de-loops around the defenseman and the winger, closing the gap between them and our net.
Theo stepped in, attempting to poke the puck with his stick when their defenseman checked him forcefully, sending Theohurtling backward.
His body lifted into the air from the check, completely parallel with the ice. His upper body descended faster than his legs, and he landed headfirst onto the ice. His neck bent at an alarming angle, and he let out a cry of pain.
The referee’s whistle screamed through the arena, and I sprinted to Theo’s side.
Theo
The searing pain in my neck radiated down to my shoulders and upper back. I knew Asher was next to me—I could hear him screaming for medical help to get to me quickly—but I couldn’t turn my head to see him. The stiffness prevented any movement. Panic consumed me as I grappled with the fact that I couldn’t turn my head. Tears spilled down the corners of my eyes as the bright lights of the arena shimmered down on me.
The referee’s whistle screeched again, and Asher’s face came into view.
“Baby! Are you okay? Talk to me.” His voice was trembling with terror, and I wanted to lift my hand to pat the side of his helmet, but it just hurt too much to move.
Coach Wilson appeared next, flanked by four paramedics. One of them asked, “Can you feel your fingers and toes?”
The other paramedics subtly moved Asher away, and I immediately felt the loss of his touch. They assembled a stretcher in the distance—some of their heads entered and exited my line of vision as they worked.
I desperately wanted Asher.
Where’s Asher?
My eyes darted from side to side, searching for him. The thought that I might have broken my neck made my panic morph into a full-blown meltdown. My heart pounded, and I gasped for air.
No, no, no, this can’t be happening.
“Look at me,” a paramedic’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Look at my eyes. You’re going to be okay. We’re going to help you.”
I didn’t believe her. All I could manage to say was his name.
“Asher. Asher. Asher.”
“Who’s Asher? Get him over here. He’s going into shock,” another paramedic said firmly.
Asher reappeared in my line of vision.
“Baby. I’m here, baby,” he whispered, his eyes filled with worry.
My frantic breathing slowed as I focused on his emerald green eyes.
“Ask him if he can wiggle his fingers and toes,” I heard a paramedic say.
Asher nodded, never taking his gaze from me.
“Can you wiggle your fingers and toes, baby?”
The sound of his voice helped me relax slightly—the tension in my neck and shoulders flared again briefly, but I took a breath, focused on my extremities, and wiggled my fingers and toes. I managed to croak out a “yes,” and I heard Asher sigh in relief.
Coach reappeared at my side.
“They’re going to take you to the hospital,” he assured me.
