he stopped to get flowers?
Grasping at my left knee, I’m crying, but not because of the pain, but because I am terrified. What the hell did I do to my knee? Did I hear a crack? Did something rip? A tendon? My ACL? Oh God…my future…
Both Henry and Ty fall down next to me, Ty on my right, Henry on my left. Everyone’s yelling.
“Just stay still, okay?” Henry says, carefully pulling off my helmet. He runs a hand over my hair.
“Jordan, are you okay? Talk to me, Jordan,” Ty begs. “Oh God, please be okay…”
“Man, stop crying,” JJ says, pulling Ty off me and dragging him away. Thank God.
Henry takes my hand. “Where does it hurt?”
“Knee,” I say, panting.
“Okay, I’m not going to let anyone touch you,” Henry says as all the guys huddle around me. “Carter!” he calls out, “Get these fools away from us!” Tears are pooling in my eyes, but I’m trying to show a brave face for my team, for Henry, who’s caressing my hand.
I’m still staring up at Henry’s face when Coach kneels down next to me, but I don’t hear what he’s saying because all I can concentrate on is the pain and Henry’s fingers. But one voice knocks me out of this Henry trance: Donovan Woods’s.
“Nobody touch her!” Dad says, kneeling down next to us. “Talk to me, Henry.”
“It’s her left knee.”
“Oh hell—that’s the leg she plants to throw.” Wait, Dad cares about if my knee will be in good enough shape to throw passes in the future? “Has she tried to move it?”
“No. And I didn’t let anyone else touch her.”
“Good man,” Dad replies, pulling a cell phone from his pocket. I listen as he calls the Titans’ team doctor and tells him to meet us at Vanderbilt Hospital. Then he calls for an ambulance. “I don’t want to risk further hurting your knee, so we’re going to do this right.”
A referee says, “Coach Miller, let’s get her off the field so we can keep playing.”
“Like hell you will,” Dad says, glaring at the ref, who puts his hands up and moves away.
When the ambulance finally comes, Dad and Henry get into it with me. The pain is nowhere near as intense as before, so I’m able to speak. “Henry…the game? You should play.”
“Who cares?” Henry says. In the past twenty minutes, he’s barely let go of my hand. And I’m loving it. Maybe I should’ve hurt myself a month ago, I chuckle to myself.
“Dad?”
He cradles my neck with his hand. “Yeah?”
“I’m so sorry,” I reply, biting my lips together.
He gives me a slight smile and says, “Everything’s okay,” and then gets back on the phone.
Dad calls his doctor again, telling him what’s up, what my knee looks like, saying that from one to ten, I’m at a six on the pain scale. I don’t even know what the hell that scale is supposed to mean. What does ten represent? Getting your head chopped off ? Is one a paper cut?
At the hospital, the EMTs push me down the hall as Dad storms around making demands, private rooms and portable X-ray machines and shit, but Henry keeps holding my hand. Having driven separately, Mom comes rushing in behind us, taking my other hand.
“Mike?” I say to Mom.
“He stayed with the Tennessee coach to watch Ty. We couldn’t leave your boyfriend there alone.”
YOU ARE READING
Catching Jordan
Teen FictionONE OF THE BOYS What girl doesn't want to be surrounded by gorgeous jocks day in and day out? Jordan Woods isn't just surrounded by hot guys, though-she leads them as the captain and quarterback of her high school football team. They all see her as...
