Broken Sky

03| The Boy With Dreams

I struggle to make my way through some other people exiting the bus while I'm going after Jake. When I finally step out of the bus, Jake is already quite far ahead of me.

I watch as he rushes through the gate and takes out his phone to speak with someone.

Damn. Why does he have to be that fast? I know that he's late for the football practice, but obviously, he can't just go there to play with the fresh wound on his arm, can he?

I rush through the gate too before he can disappear from my sight, but just as I enter the main hallway of my school, he's gone. Looking around, I curse at myself.

But then, I shouldn't be this clueless. He's injured, so the first thing he's going to do must be visiting the clinic.

Great. I suddenly feel stupid and smart at the same time.

I bring my legs to the clinic at the end of the hallway, and just when I almost arrive, the football coach emerges and storms into it, looking frantic.

I'm sensing that there will be an argument going on, so I stop in front of the door and sneak a peek instead.

I watch as the doctor treats Jake's arm, and a gasp leaves my lips. Now that my eyes are focused on the wound, I realize that the cut on his left upper arm is deeper than I thought.

The doctor puts the alcohol onto it, and I wince. Gosh, I would have screamed my lungs out if that had happened to me.

The coach sighs. "That man really got you good." His voice is a mixture of anger and frustration.

"Motherfucker," Jake mutters.

"Language," coach warns.

Silence falls, and I can feel that the atmosphere is tense.

Coach shakes his head, closing his eyes as he massages the crease between his eyebrows. He looks bloody anxious. "Jake, I know that this is ridiculous, but..."

"No," Jake snaps, cutting the sentence before the coach can say any further. "I will play."

"I'm not kicking you out, Jake, but I just don't think that you can play this Friday," the coach says firmly.

"You can't do this to me." Jake's voice holds anger and, if I'm not mistaken, fear. "You know how important the game is for me."

Coach lets out a long sigh and paces around. Then he stops, and his face hardens as he speaks again, "Look, I'm not risking your injury and the team. I know that you've been working hard for this. I know that the scholarship to Boston means everything to you. But..." he pauses. "Shit." He apparently can't bite his tongue for cursing out loud either.

My heart sinks. So this Friday's game will be something important to Jake. It's the key for his scholarship.

But then, with his wound, the coach wouldn't just allow him to take such a risk. I grip my chest, like my own heart is breaking.

"It's on Friday. I still have plenty of time to heal," Jake insists. "I know I messed it up, but this game is crucial for me. It's the answer to all my hardships on the field." His fist is shaking as he's clenching it on his thigh. "I need you to give me a chance. Just one game. And I promise you I'll win."

Coach is deep in thought, scrutinizing him.

I silently pray in my heart, which is beating so fast now.

Please, please, please. Listen to him. Please give him a chance.

Surely, the coach would consider Jake's words, wouldn't he? I mean, come on... Even I know about Jake's reputation. He's brilliant.

I've already lost count of how many times the coach has let out a sigh.

"Fine. I'll give you a chance. We'll see how it goes first," he says. "But you're absolutely banned from today's and tomorrow's practice. I can't let you in until your wound gets better. At the meantime, I'm going to replace you with Carter until you're back again. But if it turns out differently, I'm afraid to say that you won't be joining Friday's game."

"Deal," Jake says firmly.

A slight relief washes over me. At least, he still has a chance to not lose everything he's been working hard for.

I'm aware that if I just barge into the room, I'll only make matters worse and the situation awkward, so I turn on my heels and slowly walk away from them.

As I step into the corridor, my mind drifts off to the boy who has just saved me. It's not difficult to remember some facts about him, since many girls around me often talk about him.

Jake Spencer. Heir to a well-known, rich and prestigious family. Our famous football team's captain and quarterback. The smart guy as well -- it's really something to be able to succeed both in academics and sports. The guy who already has everything in his hands, who has also got it all not because of his powerful background but because of his hard work.

And suddenly, today, his dream is almost ripped off from his hands because of this insignificant human being. Me. Because of his impulsive decision to save me.

Then I remember something that Mom said a year ago.

"Mom, why are you crying?" I stepped into Mom's room as soon as I saw her wiping a tear from her eye, sitting on her bed.

When I came face to face with her, I noticed the new bruise she had on her cheek.

"That asshole did this to you again, didn't he?" My voice was shaking with rage. How dared Tuck hurt her again. I felt sick all over again. "He deserves to rot in hell. I hate men like him. They think that they can treat women like trash, just because they're physically stronger and have more power against us."

Mom brushed her fingers across my cheek, a sad smile touching her lips. "Not all men are like that, sweetheart. Your father wasn't like that. He wasn't anything like that."

I wish I'd known my biological father, but I couldn't have. He'd died because of a car accident when I was barely two years old.

As if sensing how clueless I was, Mom continued to explain, "Some men are the most amazing human beings that can happen to us. They love us and cherish us. They respect us. They protect us."

They respect us. They protect us.

The words echo in my ears. Is this what she was talking about? Did I just witness him protecting me?

Something unfamiliar stirs in my heart. Something strange. I don't know how I suddenly got it, but now, thinking about one particular boy warms my insides.