Page 33 of Saving Barrette

He says nothing.

Fucker.

Blinking, I try to focus. It does nothing and I still can’t see. The coaches swarm around me after that, as does our team physician. I don’t care for our team physician. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing half the time and the fact that he asks me, “What happened?” proves my theory. Had he not been watching the game?

I’m fine. But I’m also bleeding from a cut above my eye. I think it’s making me a little loopy.

Once they have me in the locker room on that fucking backboard that I find completely unnecessary, our team doctor is in my face asking me all kinds of questions, but I have no answers. I can’t even see him let alone answer him. Everything’s blurry.

Coach Benning pats my shoulder. “Let’s get you checked out, kid.” He smiles when I squint at him. “Just precautionary.”

Yeah, right.

They make me take a ride to the hospital and it’s uneventful. At the hospital, they ask me questions I didn’t know before the game.

They do some scans, X-rays, and a neurological exam. It’s decided pretty early I have a slight concussion but nothing more.

I don’t remember the bus ride back to Seattle. At all. I apparently slept the entire way on Terrell’s lap. He treats me good as long as I don’t drool.

When we pull up to the stadium, he shakes my shoulders. “Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty.”

I sit up, noticing the bus is nearly empty. “Did we win, Coco Puff?”

Terrell laughs. I call him Coco Puff sometimes. Actually, only when I’m drunk. Or obviously when I’m concussed. “Yeah, we did.” He stands and reaches for my hand. “Now, am I gonna have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you home?”

Sitting there for a few minutes, I sigh when I see that we are in fact the last people left on the bus. He nudges my knee. “I have to piss, man, get up.”

We head inside to the locker room retrieve our bags and then head back to the dorms. It’s around two in the morning.

Terrell is in charge of keeping an eye on me and making sure I get some rest. When we get inside our dorm room, he’s talking about the game and how Roman and Codey got in a fight in the locker room. I don’t care. My mind is not on that game any longer. It’s on Barrette when I look at the clock. I start feeling like I need her.

Why her?

Why can’t I leave her alone?

Because.

I think I can save her.

I lay in bed and wish for sleep. I do for a while and then stare at the clock as the minutes go by.

2:58 a.m.

3:05 a.m.

3:16 a.m.

Around four, I reach for my phone and see she texted me four minutes ago. It gives me hope she wants and needs more.

6 Hours Earlier

My mind won’t stop hanging on everything Asa did and said to me. It was everything, and so much more. What he gives me, his tenderness, there’s no way I can even express what it means to me.

Did you know the name Asa in Hebrew means physician or healer? It also means he’s optimistic. Enthusiastic. Humorous. Intelligent. All things he is, and I don’t know where I fit into any of those.

I watch every game Asa plays. I may not go to the games always, but I watch them. Crowds make me uncomfortable, so I usually stay in my dorm and watch them, or go to the pizza place on campus and watch them with Joey.

I watch the game, my attention on him. The cameraman flashes to Roman first, chewing on his mouthpiece, looking like his mind is far from the game. Three feet down, they show Asa, and his numbers for the game pop up on the screen. He’s there with an iPad in hand and the offensive coordinator hovered over him pointing out specifics.

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