“Elevate your ankle with a pillow and put your ice pack back on,” she said. “I know it’s no longer cold, but do it anyway. We’ll be there soon.”
Everything was a blur once Katie and Mr. Gallant got to my house. Katie charged into my room, blond hair in a messy topknot and wearing ancient Ugg boots. Her dad and the dogs were at her heels. A huge lump formed in my throat. “Hey, hey, hey,” she whispered. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
Mr. Gallant carefully lifted me into his arms, and then suddenly I was in the back seat of their car with a sneaker on my leftfoot and nothing on my right. Katie sat next to me and let me squeeze her hand.
Every pothole in the road to the hospital nearly made me faint until finally Mr. Gallant was carrying me into the emergency room. A nurse helped me into a wheelchair, but we were basically told to take a number and wait. “Can we at least get a bag of ice?” I heard Katie snap, my eyes drifting shut.
I woke up in a hospital bed, my ankle wrapped and raised. Katie had pulled her chair right up to my bedside and was slumped over, face down against the starchy white sheets. Instead of saying anything, I playfully batted her bun a few times like a cat.
“Hi,” she said, sitting up and yawning. “How do you feel?”
“Did you call Austin?” I croaked.
She nodded. “He’s on his way, and I called your parents. They’re trying to get on the earliest flight back home, but Lee is on the phone with the doctor now.”
Classic, I thought. As a retired surgeon, Da had always been a little bit of a helicopter parent whenever his children needed medical attention.
“Your nana is in the bathroom,” Katie continued. “My dad went home, but he’ll be back with breakfast. My mom is cooking as we speak.”
“Do you know how bad it is?” I whispered.
Katie shook her head. “They wouldn’t tell me particulars since I’m not family.” She raised her hand to show off her bling. “This didn’t do the trick.”
“That’s bullshit,” was the only comeback I could think of.
Katie’s lips lifted in a small smile, and about forty-five minutes later, I was wheeled out of my room for X-rays. I tried to meditate during them so I wouldn’t start crying. “Yikes,” I’d heard a nurse mutter while unwrapping my bandage. My heart beat to the rhythm of:This is not good, not good, so not good…
Hurt ankles and field hockey did not play well together. In fact, they didn’t playat all. My eyes welled up. What if this was more serious than missing a few practices?
Mr. and Mrs. Gallant had arrived with cranberry-orange scones for everyone by the time I was brought back to my room. Austin was there, too. I didn’t ask how fast he’d driven, worried his answer would involve the phraseoutraced a state trooper.
“Hi there, sis,” he said after everyone had cleared out of the room. “I’m sorry I’m late, but I had three state troopers on my tail, and it took a detour to lose them.”
I couldn’t laugh; it would hurt to laugh.
My brother squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be okay.”
“What if I can’t play?” I whispered. “Austin, what if this is the end?”
“Mads, I’m an almost dentist. Not an orthopedist.” He waited for me to smile, but I didn’t. “But even so, I’m fairly confident you won’t be scoring the game-winning goal in the state championship. This…” He sighed. “I don’t think this is a twisted ankle.”
Tears slipped down my face.No, I thought.What if this is theendend? What if Penn field hockey is now a pipe dream?
An actual orthopedic surgeon walked into the room. X-ray films were tucked under his arm, and he held an iPad with my dads on FaceTime. Whatever strings Da had here, he’d pulled them. “Good morning, Madeline,” the surgeon said. “I’m Dr. Lambert.” He turned to Austin. “Good morning, Dr. Fisher-Michaels.”
Dad’s voice was tinny from the iPad, but I heard him loud and clear. “That’s my kid!”
Austin’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment while I smiled. Even though he technically had seven more months until graduation, he did treat patients at school. Our family was beyond proud of him.
“What’s it looking like, Noel?” Da asked.
“Well…” Dr. Lambert put my X-rays up on the board and flicked on its light. “Not great.”
I knew I was supposed to pay attention to what he was pointing out on the screen, but my stomach was churning so badly that I needed to close my eyes. Austin would look; I would listen. Not only had I seriously sprained my ankle, but I’d also fractured a bone. When Dr. Lambert got around to mentioning torn ligaments and a severed tendon, I retched.
“Here!” Katie exclaimed, and I opened my eyes right as she handed off a bedpan to Austin, who caught my puke just in time.
“But can I play field hockey?” I asked after wiping my face. “Will I still be able to play?”
