How I Fall (49 page)

Dad goes on, “Consider the possibility that Mom and I are doing the best we know how to do for you. We’ve spent our lives keeping you safe, happy and guiding you toward a solid career future just like any good parents do. You put a girl into a wheelchair, son.”

I nod, feeling like I’m going to vomit, but I mange to say, “I know. I know, Dad.”

“We can’t go back home.
You
can’t go back there. You can’t change what happened. You can only move forward. Trust our experience with things like this. When all of this emotion and your crush on that useless girl fades away, you will see I’m right. There’s no way you can ever make up what happened to Ellen Foster. Accident or not, it will be impossible to maintain any kind of relationship with her. How could she or her mom ever forgive you? You watched the video, son. You heard it and saw it all, as did the entire country! It’s your fault for involving news media in the first place. They never report the real story.”

I shake my head, wishing his words weren’t getting to me. The enormity of all that happened hits me so hard I can hardly breathe.

I broke her legs…her legs! And I haven’t seen her or talked to her…she must hate me so much right now. All I want to do is hold her hand. Apologize. That’s all.

Dad’s blabbing on, “Mom and I do care. We’re looking at the big picture and we see a kid who’s freaking out over a relationship that couldn’t have lasted more than a few days by my count. Mom and I are freaking out over the impact this could have on your whole life.”

“I’m thinking about that too, Dad. I really am. It’s just hard,” I say, gritting my teeth and leaving off the part where he’s not seeing the horrible impact of how my life would feel if I never got to see Ellen again.

Dad stands, grabbing up his cell phone and loading some emails. Distracted now, he adds, “Well. Good. I’m glad you are on finally communicating properly. “ He pats me on the head like I’m a dog. “We adjust when things go wrong, don’t we? And things went terribly wrong, that’s all. Trust us to know what steps to take next. Okay?”

“Okay,” I answer, laying down on one of the two beds, acting like I don’t have any fight left in my body. Acting like I don’t want scream at him to
shut up
and break every bit of furniture in this prison-cell hotel room!

Instead I ask, “Can I go back to sleep?”

“How about a cat nap? I’m going to shower, then we’ll go over and see your uncle. Ask him which schools around here have the best teams? I’m also going to call your mom because she’s got her cell phone turned off again or something. You and I can look for a real place to rent. She’s pretty upset as well but I know I can convince her to join us if I’ve got you on my side.”

I nod.

“It’s not going to be so bad, son. If we move fast, we can recover fast. Luckily we’re into December.”

His words make me think of December 1st. The day Ellen, Patrick, Laura and I turned in our frozen trees project with Miss Brown. Was that only days ago? Or a lifetime...

“By New Years Day, we should be good and settled in to a new routine and start up some training to maintain your cardio and all that.”

I nod again, meeting his gaze like I agree.

“I’ve already have agreement that your teachers will let you complete your classes and your finals over email. I’ll get your transcripts right after the holidays. That’s really only a few weeks away, and hopefully your grades won’t suffer a blip.”

“Oh—wow,” is all I can say. My heart starts racing with pure fury that he’s made all of these plans without consulting me! I manage to add, “Yeah—well. That does seem…good.” I sigh, trying to keep the shaking out of my voice while deliberately keeping my eyes off that wallet and the car keys. I turn away from him with a huge yawn and make a show of getting under the covers. “I guess it would be hard—really awkward—to go back to school. Finals over email. Thanks Dad.”

He steps around the wall that leads to the bathroom. “I know we’re both tired, but I’m happy the sudden distance from  Brights Grove has helped you understand what’s important, son.”

“I do miss Mom.” I say, which is at least not a lie. “And,” I pause, acting like I’m really thinking about it. “We’ll need to rent a place that will allow Coco. Don’t forget.”

“How about you pick the place? Would that help make it not seem so bad?”

“Let’s do it together. I wouldn’t know how to pick a rental.”

Dad laughs and I hear the bathroom door close and lock. I can tell he’s totally relaxed because Dad loves it when he gets to be the expert. “You’re probably right,” he calls through the door. “I’ll choose the place.”

“I’m sure you will,” I mutter under my breath because I’m already sitting up, slipping on my shoes and my hoodie while waiting for the sound of the shower to start up so he won’t hear me leaving the room.

When the water goes on, I’ve already got the keys and wallet pocketed so I can have my hands free to run fast. With excruciating slowness, I get the door to our hotel room open, and then close it behind me without a sound.

Glancing for the nearest EXIT sign to the stairs, I take it and head out. I know I’ve got less than twenty minutes to make my way to our car, then to the nearest gas station to grab as much food as possible and max gas tank before Dad realizes what I’m up to and shuts off his credit cards.

I hope to be miles toward Ontario before he gets out of the shower and realizes what’s happened and calls the police. I have no doubt when Dad catches me he’s going to be pressing charges. He’s not going to take this rebellion quietly and without some sort of drastic punishment.

But, whatever. Bring it on. I’ve faced his crap my whole life. Hopefully it will take all of them a long time to catch me. I know they will eventually, but I’m going to at least get to Ellen and say what I need to say to her because I need to.

I have to. And hopefully, everyone, my parents and Ellen and just everyone will understand how desperate I feel right now. As my feet hit the parking lot I’m able to breathe normally because even thought I’m heading for trouble, I’m finally taking control of my own life.

I’m done with being patient.

ellen

I hear hospital sounding beeps, the sound of an oxygen machine in a bed that’s behind a curtain near me, and then I tune in the voices of my mom, Patrick, Laura and Nash. They’re whispering furiously at the end of my bed.

Soon the nurse will come and ask me if I know where I am. Ask if I know who I am. I will answer like I always have, that I’ve been in this hospital for three days, but today I’m in a surgery recovery room for a needed CP procedure that we all agreed would be a good idea to do now while I’m already laid up from this accident.

It was a surgery I’d been putting off for two years. A constant sore point between me and Nash. He and my orthopedist recommended it when I was fourteen and the growth plates had closed in my foot. But with me doing so well, and getting so strong I’d refused to consider letting anyone touch my bad leg in a surgery. I didn’t want to go backwards in my progress. And to me, cutting open my skin and messing with my ligaments and tendons didn’t ever seem right.

Until now. I pull in a slow, heavy breath.

What does it matter now?

Since my accident already threw me all the way back to a wheelchair, I agreed right away. I figured with how bad my legs were already going to feel while I healed, a little more pain would be bearable. I’m practical enough to understand that I won’t have to halt my life a second time to do this surgery during my university years.

Nash convinced me that the PT would be relatively the same. I’m trying really hard to see this surgery as a true positive. The unwanted surgery was one of those things that had been hanging over my head. Nash said it every month, that it
had to happen soon.
So fine. It’s happened. It’s done. And now, I don’t have to go back to school for the rest of the year. I’m also taking as an added bonus because once I’m healed I mean to hide out from the entire town and my entire school for the rest of my time in this town. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself. Being angry always feels a little bit better to me than being depressed.

To make my mom feel better, I’ve even managed to choke out this is all somehow really good. Like the universe is watching out for me because I wasn’t strong enough to agree to this ligament surgery on my own.

Nash and my mom have been saying that it’s all good, too. Even though we all know it sucks so badly. Just like all my other surgeries and all my other home schooled semesters have completely sucked.

At least this time I’ll have new-bestie Laura nearby to keep the comic relief high. Her stories, plus Patrick’s Timbit visits will get me through this. They will also help me find Cam. I know they will.

I don’t try to move or decipher what Mom and Nash are discussing until I hear Patrick’s voice say, “Poor, Cam. I can’t imagine what he’s going through.”

And then, suddenly, I’m trying to sit up. I want to run again. To find him, touch him, see him. Then I remember he hasn’t come once to the hospital. Not once. Which has had me wondering if something’s really wrong. With him. With us.

“Mom.” The word came out quieter than my quietest whisper. They didn’t hear it because the conversation about Cam is growing louder and more heated around me.

Frustrated, I peel open my eyes and try to wiggle my toes, but the pain medications and anesthesia they gave me during the surgery hasn’t worn off yet. This used to scare me when I was younger. I’d wake up screaming and insisting that I was paralyzed, that I’d never get better or walk again.

This is my sixth surgery since I was a little kid. I know I’m not paralyzed. I will walk again. I have to…soon…

*Imagines: Cam’s smile. The bonfire. His arms wrapped around me. The lake...the wind and the yellow leaves caught in his hair…*

Groggy and heavy limbed, I float away with the image of Cam’s gray eyes smiling into mine. I feel him kissing me keeping me safe. I stay there with him, half conscious and kissing him back, letting the anesthesia and the pain medications keep me in this dream. I will stay here. The only place I can find him.

Wherever he is.

*Wonders: Is he okay. Is he...okay?”*

That thought brings me back. Hard and fast.

He needs me and I want to be with him. Not here. Not in this hospital. I concentrate on clearing my head, then clearing my vision. I realize there will be no sitting up for me today. So I’ll do what I need to do. I’ll go slowly, and I’ll work with this minute, then the next, then on to the next. It’s what I do best. This kind of work I understand. Healing, working, striving to get myself to normal.

“Mom…” I call out again. This time I’m loud enough. They all crowd around and Laura holds my hand and strokes my forehead soothing my spinning head. “There she is—
wee Thumbelina
—how are you feeling?”

“You were talking about Cam,” I croak out. “I heard. Do you know something? Has he stopped by yet?”

Laura’s gaze skates away from mine. I grip her hand like I’ll never let it go. “Tell me. Anything.”

“Can I?” she asks my mom, who also suddenly won’t meet my eyes.

“Please.”

Laura doesn’t even have to say anything. I can read it all in her huge, sad blue eyes.

“He’s gone?” I ask.

Patrick moves closer and nods. “Long gone, we think.”

“As in, British Columbia gone?” I whisper.

Patrick nods, “The news had footage of the whole thing—of you falling and getting slammed. While you were half out of it on pain medications the video went viral to the point that everyone misunderstood what happened. Both boys had death threats against them!”

“What? Why?”

Mom nods, confirming all of it. “Tanner’s parents have taken him to his grandmother’s house in Florida. We don’t think he will ever come back. It’s possible Cam’s parents are doing the same thing in BC.”

“It was an accident! My fault for trying to run between them. You saw it all, Patrick. I have CP. I fall. It was my fault!”

Patrick sighs. “Yeah, I know. I saw you trip with my own eyes. But since then, I’ve watched Cam and Tanner break your legs so many times on the news, the Internet, and YouTube that even I’ve started to believe all of the stories as well! It’s so easy for people to make up a new truth about what happened. Ellen...if you saw the video you’d see. It looks so bad.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, not understanding.

My mom finally answers, “While you were unable to make a statement, the news took the horrible footage they had of you getting crushed and made their own assumptions as to what happened. They say the crowd rioted after winning the game. The current rumor is that Cam and Tanner, not to mention the entire football team, acted like a bunch of hooligan-type bullies that day. We’ve had reporter vans all over town. They’ve been camped out since the footage got out. It’s all over.”

“My mother saw it on in our very own living room in Ireland. My Uncle Yann says his parents , who live outside of Paris were watching the video over and over again today!”

“Wow. Really?” I croak out.

Mom goes on, “Mrs. Campbell is still in town—for now. She won’t see anyone and she’s had to have a couple of reporters chased off by police. Instead of dying down, each and every day it seems to get worse. They’ve interviewed the whole high school. Tanner and Cam are now portrayed as rich, spoiled brats with nothing better to do than attack innocent poor people.”

“Innocent, poor, very tragic and disabled girls,” Patrick says. “They love your face and your life story on TV, Ellen.”

My stomach aches. “But it’s not true. None of it’s true.”

Nash picks up my other hand. “Yes, but it’s a good story and if you watch the footage, it
looks
true. Things will die down, real news should happen eventually and we will all be forgotten, but for today, I chased a photographer away from your pre-op room!”

“Wow.” I blink.

Patrick sighs a sigh so heavy I feel the weight of the room doubling. “The entire Huron High football program has also been suspended because of this.”

“I’m sorry, Patrick. What about those recruiters from Michigan? Will you still be able to apply next fall? You weren’t really in the fight.”

Patrick smiles softly, shooting Laura and I the same, over-protective glance. “I’ll try, but after you got hurt, and after Laura almost tried to murder people with her crazy-tiger-ways, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” He winces as if remembering. “I realized, maybe I want to stick closer to the people I love because they—
you two especially
—obviously need me.”

“Aww. Patrick, that’s so sweet,” my mom sighs out.

“Really sweet, but not at all necessary.” Laura glares at Patrick and I wonder if they’re fighting?

The circles under Mom’s eyes are so deep, I don’t ask, nor do I argue with Patrick. There will be time for that later. He’s not going to miss out applying to colleges next year with the need to baby sit me as his excuse to fail. I let my eyes travel over Nash who looks equally sad and very sleep deprived.

I reach out and tug Nash’s hand. “When I get better, Nash—everyone—I promise I’ll always have a cane with me. I’m so sorry I put you through all of this.”

“It’s nobody’s fault!” Laura sighs, throwing her arms wide. “Most of all, it’s not your fault, you wee-puny-ninny! You don’t need a cane. What happened to you could have happened to any person who accidently stepped between Cam and Tanner!”

I really want them all to stop looking so somber so I argue, “Let’s be real. If I’d had a cane like I was supposed to, I could have used it to whack the heck out of Tanner and Mr. Campbell. I meet Nash’s gaze, hoping he realizes I’ve given up being stubborn and unrealistic about my CP. I whisper, “I won’t be caught without it again. I promise.”