Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“I need to go with her,” I challenge as they shove me out of the way again with a hand to my chest.
“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t. We have to go.”
I lunge toward her as they carry her by and press my lips to hers quickly but gently. “I’m here, okay? I’m going to follow you to the hospital.”
I grip her hand once more until her fingers slip from my own as they carry her away and load her into the back of the ambulance at the side of the stage.
She’s been through so much already, and now this?
I know they say God doesn’t give you more than you can handle, but the universe just told God to eat shit.
I don’t know if it’ll help or not, but hoping to swing the pendulum in our favor, I do something I’ve never done before.
I pray.
Sunday April 13th
Scottie
“We love you, Scottie,” Coach Jordan says and leans over my hospital bed at Daytona Regional Medical Facility to give me a big hug. “I’ll be thinking about you. Praying for you. And don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything, okay?” She turns to look over at my dad and sister Wren, who stand in the far corner of the room beside Finn.
As soon as Finn told Ty what had happened, he got my dad and sister down here on the first plane he found.
“Anything she needs, Mr. Bardeaux. You have my number.”
“Thanks, Coach,” my dad responds with a little nod.
Coach Jordan gives me one final hug and presses her forehead to mine. “Love you, girl.”
As she steps away from my bed, every girl on my squad takes turns in her place, giving me hugs and well-wishes. They’re all dressed in our navy Dickson travel sweats, ready to get on the bus to travel back to New York, and I hate that I’m not going with them.
I don’t have all the final news about my injury yet—the doctor is supposed to be meeting with me today now that they have all the scans they needed—but for at least the foreseeable future, not winning Nationals and not getting on the bus to head back home are least of my worries.
I still have no feeling in my legs or feet, and my bowels and bladder aren’t under my control either. I feel like half a person—like the scraps at the end of a magic trick gone wrong. I still feel like I’m going to wake up at some point and this all will have been a nightmare.
Tonya steps up to my bed, tears actively pouring down her cheeks. Her whole face is puffy and red, and I’m not sure she has stopped crying since the minute the whole awful thing happened. “I’m so sorry, Scottie,” she says, and her voice shakes with grief. “I don’t know what happened. I hate—”
“Don’t do that.” I shake my head. “This isn’t your fault. It was a freak thing, Tonya. I know that. You know that. Everyone knows that.”
No one really knows what exactly went wrong, but I do know that after the storms rolled through on Friday, there were still slick spots on the mat, no matter how hard the NCA staff tried to clean it up. I think between that and Tonya’s already weak ankle, something just went wrong that no one could’ve seen coming or prevented.
I guess it could be argued they shouldn’t have had us out on the mat if it was still wet, but I saw the NCA staff with my own eyes working their asses off to dry it, and the safety staff checked it comprehensively.
I could easily be angry, but no amount of righteous indignation is going to put feeling back below my waist. I just need to give it time.
Tonya hesitates to hug me, guilt still evident on her face, and I reach forward with both arms to pull her close to me. It’s a little awkward because of my current situation—stuck in a hospital bed with an IV in my arm and legs that won’t seem to wake up—but I do my best.
Kayla is the last one to give me a hug, and she squeezes me so tight that my lungs have a hard time accommodating air. “I wish I could stay with you,” she whispers into my ear, and I lean back to meet her eyes. She’s still visibly distraught, her lips quivering as she tries to stay strong for me.
“I’ll be back in New York soon. You need to go with the team.”
“I know. But…I just feel like I’m leaving you behind.”
“No.” I shake my head. “You have to go. End of story.”
She nods and lifts one hand to swipe a lone tear that streams down her cheek. “Love you,” she says and squeezes my hand, and I squeeze her hand back.