“Typical,” Molly muttered. “Nothing like sports to drag some emotion out of them.”
As soon as the game began, I realized that I would never be a fan of rugby. It was too aggressive. The sport mainly consisted of players smashing into one another in an attempt to wrestle the ball from the opposition’s grasp. I watched one of Xavier’s teammates charge up the field, the ball securely lodged under his arm. He dodged two of the Middleton players, who pursued him ruthlessly. When he was a few yards away from the goal, he threw himself forward into the air and landed sprawled on the ground, his arms stretched over his head. His hands, clasping the ball, lay just over the line. One of the players from Middleton, who had attempted a tackle in the hope of blocking the goal, landed on top of him. The Bryce Hamilton team broke into whoops and cheers, helping their player up and thumping him on the back as he staggered back to the center of the field.
I was shielding my eyes to avoid witnessing two players collide when Molly nudged me. “Who’s that guy?” she said, pointing to a figure standing on the other side of the field. It was a young man in a long leather jacket. His identity was concealed by a fedora and a long scarf he’d wound around the lower half of his face.
“I’m not sure,” I replied. “A parent maybe?”
“Pretty weird-looking parent,” Molly said. “Why is he standing there by himself?”
We quickly forgot about the stranger and reverted to watching the game. I grew steadily more nervous as it progressed. The Middleton boys were merciless and most of them looked like tanks. I felt my heart rate increase and my breathing become more rapid whenever any of them went near Xavier. Given the nature of the game, this happened quite often and Xavier wasn’t one to stick to the perimeter. He wanted to be in the thick of things and was just as competitive as the rest of them. I had to admit that as much as I disliked rugby, he was a skilled player. He was fast and strong, and best of all, he played fair. I watched him streak toward the goal and slam the ball into the ground. Whenever one of the other players grabbed him or knocked him to the ground, he was up again in a matter of seconds. He was unfaltering. Eventually I stopped wincing about potential scrapes and bruises, stopped worrying about his safety, and started feeling proud of him. I cheered and waved Molly’s pom-poms in the air whenever he had the ball.
By halftime Bryce Hamilton was ahead by three points. Xavier jogged over to the sideline where I ran to meet him.
“Thanks for coming,” he panted. “I know this probably isn’t your thing.” He gave me his endearing half-smile as he tipped a bottle of water over his head.
“You’re amazing out there,” I said, pushing back the wet hair that was plastered across his forehead. “But you’ve got to be careful, the Middleton boys are huge.”
“Skill over size,” he said.
I looked in anguish at a long scratch across his forearm. “How did this happen?”
“It’s just a scratch.” He laughed at my concern.
“It might be just a scratch to you, but it’s a scratch on my arm, which I don’t want to see damaged.”
“So is everything marked as property of Bethany Church or just the arm?”
“Every inch of you, so be careful.”
“Yes, Coach.”
“I’m serious. I hope you realize you can’t lecture me about safety ever again,” I said.
“Babe, injuries are inevitable. It’s all part of the game. You can play nurse afterward if you like.” He threw me a wink over his shoulder as the horn sounded for play to resume. “Don’t worry, I’m invincible.”
I watched him jog lightly back to his teammates and noticed that the boy in the leather jacket was still standing by the opposite sidelines. His hands were dug deep in his pockets. I still couldn’t see his face.
With ten minutes till the end of the game, the Bryce Hamilton boys looked as if they had victory in the bag. The opposition’s coach was doing a lot of head shaking and had to keep mopping sweat from his brow. His players looked furious and desperate. It didn’t take them long to employ dirtier tactics. Xavier had the ball and was running up the field when two of the Middleton players charged at him like freight trains from either side. Xavier swerved in an attempt to avoid a collision, but the others swerved with him and closed in. I cried out when one of them threw out his leg and caught Xavier around the ankle. It sent him tumbling forward so that the ball slipped from his grasp. I saw his head connect with the ground and his eyes snap shut as he winced in pain. The Bryce Hamilton players made a furious protest, and the referee blew his whistle to indicate foul play but it was too late.
Two boys ran over to help Xavier, who was still prostrate on the ground. He tried to get up but his left ankle was sticking out at a peculiar angle, and when he tried to put weight on it, he grimaced and slipped. His teammates supported him as they helped him over to a bench and the medic scurried over to examine the extent of the damage. He seemed unsteady — like he might be about to pass out.
From where I stood, I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I saw the medic shine a light in Xavier’s eyes and shake his head at the coach. Xavier gritted his teeth and dropped his head in frustration. I tried to push past the girls to get to him, but Molly restrained me.
“No, Beth, they know what they’re doing. You’ll just be in the way.”
Before I could argue, Xavier was being helped onto a stretcher and into the ambulance that was always waiting in the event of an accident. I stood frozen as the game resumed now that the crisis had passed. The ambulance drove off the track and onto the road. I noticed vaguely through my panic that the boy on the sidelines had disappeared.
“Where are they taking him?” I asked.
“To the hospital, of course,” Molly said. Her face softened when she saw my eyes fill with tears. “Hey, it didn’t look too serious — probably just a sprain. They’ll bandage him up and send him home. Look,” she pointed at the scoreboard. “We’re still going to beat them by six points.”
But I felt no cause for jubilation now and excused myself to get home to Gabriel and Ivy so I could ask them to drive me to the hospital. I summoned them in my mind as I ran, in case they weren’t at home. I was so distracted with worry for Xavier that I collided head-on with Jake Thorn in the parking lot.
“Well, somebody’s in a hurry,” he said, helping me up and brushing off the dust clinging to my coat. “What’s the problem?”
“Xavier had an accident during the rugby game,” I said, rubbing my eyes with my fists like a small child. At that point I couldn’t have cared less what I looked like — I just needed to see that Xavier was okay.
“Dear me,” Jake drawled. “That’s unfortunate — is it serious?”
“I don’t know,” I said, my voice choked. “They’ve taken him to hospital to be checked out.”
“I see,” Jake replied. “I’m sure he’ll be okay. It’s the nature of the game.”
“I should have known,” I said angrily, more to myself than to him.
“Known what?” Jake asked, peering closely at my face. “This isn’t your fault now, is it? Don’t cry. ..”
He stepped forward and closed his arms around me in a hug. His embrace wasn’t anything like Xavier’s; his body was too lean and thin to be very comfortable, but I sobbed into his shirt all the same and let him hold me. When I tried to pull away, I found his arms still locked tightly around me and had to wriggle to break free.