Girl on Track

41| Priorities

The first thing I see when I open my eyes is Tyler's concerned expression. He's leaning over me, his strong palm lightly cradling my face as he calls out my name. I blink a few times as his face comes into focus, soft and slightly blurred around the edges. Maybe I'm delirious from being thrown off my bike, but right now, his eyes are liquid honey.

Standing behind him are a few worried spectators, including Alex. At seeing I'm awake, she crouches next to Tyler and rests a hand on his shoulder before pushing back my hair with the other.

"Sirenita," Tyler says, his voice warm and solid, "can you hear me?"

I make a mmm noise, and the relief that crosses his face is unmistakable. He leans forward now, roughly kissing my forehead as his hands cup my face, and for a second, I feel guilty for the terror in his eyes. It's the same terror I'd felt watching my dad be carried into an ambulance, the same terror my mother feels every time I head to the track; sometimes the things we love are the very things that hurt us the most.

I slowly sit up, but the pair try to keep me back down. It hurts to breathe, and there's a tightness in my chest that sets alarm bells ringing, but I don't dare mention it yet. An injury – especially a bad one – would get me kicked out of the tournament.

"Easy," Tyler says, holding my shoulders, "don't try to move. You might have broken something."

I shake my head, the events of the last few minutes rushing back to me. Even through the pain and confusion, one thing sticks out like a flashing amber beacon. "I lost the race," I say like it's not already obvious to everyone, but saying it out loud makes it more real, somehow. Final. "Kai won, didn't he? That little–"

"Forget about it," Tyler says, frowning. "How are you feeling? Are you all right?"

I nod, but for the first time in a long time, tears prickle my eyes. This race was supposed to be proof that I'm ready, but if the pain in my chest is anything to go by, all it's done is leave me worse off. "I'm fine." I glance at the mini crowd behind him, flashing them a reassuring smile. "You guys don't have to wait. I'm fine, seriously." The last thing I want right now is spectators to my misery.

Tyler waves them away before turning back to face me. "We need to get you to the hospital," he says. "Just hold still."

Panic sets through me at the mention of the hospital. Going to the hospital means calling my parents, and if they find out what happened, I'm one hundred percent certain they'll never let me race again.

"I don't need the hospital," I say hoarsely, "I'm fine." A quick glance over shows there's no obvious damage, and as long as I take slow, shallow breaths, my chest doesn't hurt that much.

"You need to get checked over anyway," Tyler says. "Just in case."

"Yeah, you could have internal bleeding," Alex says, "or a concussion. How many fingers am I holding up?" She waves four fingers in front of my face in a way that is dizzying.

"Eight," I say.

Her mouth falls open, and the pair share this pained, worried look that makes me shake my head.

"We're going to the hospital," Tyler says.

"Guys, I'm kidding," I say. "I'm fine, okay? Just help me up."

Tyler clenches his jaw in the way he always does when he thinks I'm being stubborn, but he sighs and wraps an arm around my waist, helping me to my feet.

The jolt that strikes my ribs is dizzying. I stumble a little, sucking in a breath before steadying myself. Tyler's grip tightens like I'm about to collapse, but I force myself to ignore the pain and straighten up, flashing them a reassuring smile. "See?  I think I'll be fine. If anything is hurt, it's my pride."