Dylan laughs, his big, brown eyes sparkling. He doesn’t look much older than me, even though he claims to be in his mid-twenties. “Look, all-star. I get you’re used to pushing your body. But it’s still recovering. I’m not going to chance an injury just because your inner warrior wants a battle. For now, you just have to grin and bear it. We’ll get there.”
“Grrrr . . .” I can’t stand this. “I want to run, I want to punch, kick, shred. I feel like a walking set of stripped bones.”
“Easy, killer.” Dylan laughs mild mannerly. He’s like the most laidback person I’ve ever met. It’s annoying, frankly.
The treadmill beeps and turns off. I am beyond frustrated. I hate this. I want to be better.Tomorrow.“I know this is hard on you, seeing as you’ve probably never been held back a day in your life.” So true. “It’s an emotional challenge as much as a physical one. You just have to stay in the zone and keep your eye on the ball.” Dylan places a hand on my shoulder.
I grimace. Laney’s football references are so much sexier.
I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. I miss our back and forth banter in chem and hearing her laugh, and seeing her smile. Is that crazy? Maybe. But she’s definitely someone I like to be around. And being sequestered has made me realize that. A highlight of mine was when I received a card from her while I was in the hospital. It read:
An apple a day keeps the doctor away . . . if you have good aim and it’s accurate.
Kam, this card made me think of you. Hope you get well soon. Chem sucks without you.
Laney xo
I contemplated calling her but decided against it. What would I say? Hey, want to come over and hang out with a cripple who may never play football again? Whose future might be fucked? Yeah. I don’t think so. Who’d want to spend time with a loser like that?
I step off the treadmill, my body a pathetic sack.
“Good work today.” Dylan slaps me on the back. I want to growl at him, but I don’t. I’m going to beat this recovery into the ground then run ten miles over it.
I slip into my mother’s 4Runner and stare mindlessly out the window as she drives away from the rehab center.
“There’s someone coming from school tonight to start tutoring you while you’re home,” she reminds me.
“I didn’t forget.” I roll my eyes. I can’t wait to see who the school designated for this. Probably some nerd from the academics team who’s going to put me back in a coma. My life issogreat.
“Good. I’m making spaghetti and meatballs for dinner tonight,” she nudges me, as if trying to cheer me up.
“I’d rather have homemade mac and cheese.” I give her the puppy dog eyes.
She glances over and smiles a surrendering expression. My mother can never say no to me when I’m sick. Even if those times have been few and far between. I think my last devastating illness was freshman year when I had the flu, and all I wanted to eat was watermelon. So weird.
“Fine. I’ll drop you off then go to the store. Spoiled.”
“You made me that way.”
She smirks. “Sometimes you deserve it.”
