Page 26 of Coping Skills

The Marycliff defense forced a turnover, gaining possession of the ball again. Daniel took his place for the play that had scored them a touchdown late in the first quarter. This time Wilkins planned on passing to him. He flexed his hands, wiggling his fingers as he waited for the snap, his cleats digging into the grass as he took off down the side of the field headed for the end zone, looking back over his shoulder after he’d run at least ten yards.

The football sailed through the air in a perfect arc, overestimating his speed just a hair. He leaned forward, bobbling the ball for half a second before pulling it in, holding it close to his body, ducking his head and dropping his shoulder, veering to the side to avoid the tackle that suddenly popped up in front of him.

Arms wrapped around his hips. He kept moving, trying to shake off his would-be tackler, but a hit from the side took him down, toppling to the side, the guy wrapped around him providing a fulcrum that sent him crashing into the ground head first.

He had time to blink at the dull ache in his head and neck before the world exploded, and all he knew was darkness and pain.

Elena stood, her hands covering her mouth as the players on top of Daniel got up one by one, leaving him lying on the field, unmoving.

He’d been powering through the guy trying to tackle him one minute, and then he got hit from the side, taking him down. Another player from the other team had been on his way to assist with the tackle and couldn’t stop in time before getting to the pile, tripping and falling on top of the other three players.

The ball still lay cradled between his arm and his side, a fact which Elena knew the team—including Daniel—would appreciate, but she was more concerned about the fact that his hand no longer actively held the ball. His sideways somersault through the air had been spectacular, provoking sounds of awe and disbelief from the stands. But he wasn’t moving.

The refs kept the players at a distance while coaches and trainers made their way to Daniel. With four people clustered around him, she couldn’t see more than his feet, but when they twitched she couldn’t hold back the sob that had been building while he lay motionless on the ground.

Hannah’s hand rubbed up and down her back while she choked back her tears. This response was out of proportion to what was going on. She knew it. Matt’s gentle voice, and his hand joining Hannah’s confirmed it.

“Hey. He’s going to be okay. It’s probably a concussion, but he’ll be back to normal in a week or two at the worst. He’ll be fine, Elena.”

She nodded, appearing to agree, both grateful for his reassurance and annoyed at his casual dismissal of the concussion. She knew too much about brain injuries to be so unconcerned. But now was not the time to get into that. Lots of people had concussions all the time and didn’t undergo serious personality changes. And things had been too crowded to know what exactly had happened. Clearly he’d lost consciousness, but beyond that she didn’t know.

Sucking in a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down, wiping at her eyes with the cuff of her sweatshirt. He’d be fine. He’d be fine. She repeated it to herself over and over, as though whether or not that were true depended on her saying it again and again.

After what seemed like forever, but was probably just a few minutes, the coaches and trainers backed off, one of the trainers helping Daniel to his feet. He held a hand up to the crowd, which erupted in cheers at his wave of reassurance. But Elena felt less reassured when one of the trainers drew Daniel’s other arm across his shoulders and helped him off the field, Daniel obviously leaning on the trainer for support.

She sat down hard, her hands over her mouth again. Would every game be this bad? How many more games were there? She didn’t think very many, but even so. She didn’t know if she could stand watching this happen again.

And what if she wasn’t there? Would she know if he got hurt? Would he tell her right away, or would she have to wait to find out after he got home? What if he got hit hard enough or enough times that he started having problems? And that only accounted for this season. And yeah, he’d said he’d be student teaching next fall, so he wouldn’t have time to play.

But what if he listened to Coop and decided to go for the Regional Combines? Or what if he got scouted? Coop had said that since Chris got drafted, there’d been noises about NFL scouts coming to their games. What if that actually happened? Would he want to go pro? Who was she kidding—what football player would turn down the chance to keep playing the game they loved if offered the opportunity?

A gentle squeeze on her arm brought her out of the swirl of questions going in circles in her head. Matt squatted next to her in front of Hannah’s seat, his blue eyes concerned. “Hey. He’s going to be okay, Elena. The team trainers are good. He’ll be put on concussion protocol and they might send him for a CT to be safe, but I’ve seen guys hit harder than that and they were fine. He’s going to be fine.” His voice carried the weight of authority and conviction, and Elena wanted to believe him. But she’d been told before that someone she loved would be fine.

And the last time she’d talked to her mom, she’d said that her dad had refused to continue therapy, had panic attacks almost every time he had to get into a car, and had become more firmly ensconced in his spot on the couch. Hardly anyone’s definition of fine.

She wanted to believe Matt, his gaze encouraging and sincere. But she knew better.

Shaking her head, she stood. “I can’t—“ She swallowed. “I can’t do this. I have to go.”

Matt stood too. “Elena, wait—“

She shook her head again. “I have to go.”

Stumbling over the legs of the other students in the stands, she muttered, “Excuse me,” and, “I’m sorry,” to everyone between her and the aisle, her only goal to get out of there as fast as she could.

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