Page 16 of Tough Score
“Have you had any luck with job interviews?” I ask.
“Not yet but I have an interview tomorrow that's promising. It's not exactly where I want to be but it's a start. I'd be working with middle school athletes at an all-girls private school, which would be cool since I was about that age when I found my love of physical therapy after my soccer injury.”
“You used to play soccer?”
I like finding out all these little pieces of information about Keely.
“Yes, before I tore my ACL.”
“I'm sorry to hear about your injury—that sucks. Have you been able to play since?” I ask.
“No, I haven’t. But my uncle thinks I should join a city league soccer team to make friends.”
“The man gives good advice. The city leagues around here take it pretty seriously. There are a bunch of good teams,” I tell her. “You said that working at the all-girls school isn't where you want to be. If you could do anything, what would you do?”
Her lips purse, and her shoulders shrug, as if she’s too shy to tell me. But then her lips part, and she speaks.
“My dream is to be a PT for a professional team. I don't care which sport, I just want to be a part of something big even if I only get to watch from the basement,” she says, digging her hands deeper into the front pocket of my hoodie.
Watch from the basement?
Who would hide someone like Keely away?
We finally make it to the crosswalk and wait until the walk sign turns green. It's late and dark out, and the whiteness of the asphalt makes visibility poor.
The WALK pedestrian sign illuminates and we step off the curb.
I glance both ways to make sure no cars are coming even though we have the right of way. The road is eerily quiet for a busy Thursday night due to the Hawkeyes home game but the monsoon from earlier may have kept some people from coming out.
As we cross, I can't help but glance over at Keely. The yellow Street lamp illuminates her face, and the rain gives everything around us a dream-like blurred effect.
Without warning, headlights bounce across the wet asphalt, and the sound of screeching tires and a roaring engine fills my ears. Without thinking, I react—shoving Keely as hard as I can—no time to give her warning.
I hear her make a sound the moment she hits the asphalt further out of the way with an “oof” sound just before impact when the car hits my side and I’m thrown up on the hood of a vehicle I barely saw coming.
And then I feel it--the sharp pain explodes through my entire body and then I slide off the car, hitting my head on the asphalt as it brakes to a dead stop.
The last thing I hear before passing out is the screeching tires of the car as it accelerates away from me--and Keely’s voice screaming for help.
“Someone called 911. He's hurt! He’s hurt!"
Chapter Five
Keely
It only takes seconds for your entire world to be flipped upside down.
Sitting in the waiting room, staring vacantly down at the colorful swirls of the hospital's carpet, I wait impatiently for someone to come out and update me on Reeve's prognosis.
I don't think I'll ever forget the sound of the tires screeching on the wet asphalt, the wail of the sirens in the distance as they head for us, the crunch of the metal and glass under my feet as I ran to Reeve, my blood-soaked knees from where Reeve pushed me and I skinned them.
I barely remember the ride in the ambulance to the hospital, holding Reeve’s hand, trying to talk to him to keep him awake while the paramedics checked him out for all possible injuries.
I'm sure he suffered a concussion based on what he said the moment that I got to him waiting on the asphalt face up.
“Am I dead? Is this heaven?”
“No, Reeve, this isn't heaven. You’re still in Seattle.”