BY THE TIME I GET to the gym, I’m huffing and puffing. My hair, still wet from the shower, is painfully pulled into a ponytail on the top of my head while I fling my bag onto an empty bench inside the locker room. I don’t bother wasting the time it would take to stash it safely inside a locker. My body begs me to slow down, but I can’t.
Shedding my warm ups, I pile them in a heap on top of the bag before rushing through another set of gym doors. Arriving to practice late and without an excuse is the equivalent of asking to be put on probation. Jeopardizing my spot on the team for a night out is not who I am, at all—ever. Allowing Kipton’s pleading coupled with his spectacular muscles to throw me off my game was immature. In fact, my one night of fun wasn’t everything it was cracked up to be. My conscious has a tight hold on my behavior for a reason. I need to start listening to it again.
“Nice of you to join us this morning, Sophie. In my office, now,” Coach yells from the other side of the gym.
If he cuts me from the team, I’ll lose everything. My hands shake as I nervously sit down on the small, white chair in his office. Running through my mind are ten excuses about why I was late, but none of them seem believable considering the lump on my head. Think, Sophie. I can’t lose my scholarship.
Coach walks in the room and starts his speech before he even makes it to his desk chair. “So, tell me, Sophie, what was more important than showing up on time this morning? For someone new to the team, you’re not making a great first impression. Your teammates have to trust you as much as I do to get the job done. Right now, they’re not convinced you should even be in the gym let alone the line-up.”
“I can explain, Coach. Last night, I went out to dinner with my roommate and we were in an accident. I had a bad headache so I had trouble falling asleep. I slept right through my alarm this morning by mistake.” It’s not a total lie. I did go out with Cara, and I did have an accident. It may not have happened in a car, but I still hit something.
I’m an awful person. I hate liars. My dad used to lie to my mom about every single thing he did. She caught him in his own lies more times than I can even count.
“You do have a significant bruise on your head. Did you see a doctor last night?”
“Um. No. It didn’t start to bruise right away and I can’t afford the cost of the ER. All of my family physicians are back home.”
“I wish you would have gone anyway, Sophie. I can’t let you practice until you’re cleared by a doctor. Since you don’t have one of your own, you can see the team physician when you finish up here. I can’t let you practice until a head injury is ruled out. You could do more damage if you fall.”
“Thank you for understanding, Coach. I’ll see the doctor right away. I’m anxious to get back into the gym and work-out. I’ve been sticking to my amped up conditioning program as you asked.” He doesn’t need to know I haven’t eaten a decent meal in over twenty-four hours all while getting drunk and injured in the process.
“I’m glad to hear that, Sophie. Let me know what the doctor says. Hopefully it’s nothing too serious; you can’t afford to miss any gym time.”
“I will, Coach, thank you. I’ll be back to practice as soon as I can.”
“Hold onto this.” He reaches out his arm and hands me a business card with his information printed on it. “Everyone on the team has one. I know I’m your Coach, but I’m also here as a mentor. You can reach me anytime. Okay?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he inspects my head again. Part of me knows I didn’t completely sell him on my excuse. Regardless, I accept the offered card and thank my lucky stars he’s letting me off the hook. Maybe my injury is punishment enough for him. “Sure. Thank you, Coach.”
I leave his office before he has a chance to change his mind about probation. If any of my teammates were at the party last night, I’ll get kicked off the team for lying and drinking. I didn’t cross paths with any of them, but considering I don’t remember a large portion of the night, I can’t be sure one way or the other. I have to get my shit together, and fast. My life’s complicated enough without all this added bullshit.
THE DOCTOR’S EXPECTING ME WHEN I arrive to his office. I fidget in the waiting room chair praying he buys my line of bullshit about the accident. My palms are sweating from going over the story in my head enough times to keep my facts straight which is tough at the moment. My thoughts keep getting jumbled together in a mix of fiction and reality.
“Sophie. Come on back.”
I stand up to follow him, but get a little dizzy. He’s watching me intently so I play it off as best I can.
“How long has that been happening?” His brow is furrowed and he looks to be studying my every move. The tap, tap, tap of his pen on my file folder is enough to make it hard to concentrate on his words.
“My bruise?” I question.
“No. The dizziness. You lost your balance when you stood up.” He’s already writing things down on my chart. That can’t be good.
“Oh. Since this morning. I hit my head last night, but I’m fine.” I refuse to tell him how much pain I’m in. There’s only one place I need to be and it’s at practice.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Inside exam room number one, he shines a light in my eyes, measures my pupils along with my reflexes all before firing off a few mental exercises. I stumble over my numbers when I’m asked to count backwards from twenty, but I blame it on my nerves. I’m then asked about our presidents and a slew of other random trivia. Other than drawing a blank on the former presidents, I breeze through the questions—or so I think. The physical tests do me in completely. I can’t walk in a straight line let alone backwards. My balance is shot to shit no matter how hard I try to concentrate on my movements.
“Sophie, I’ll be frank with you. You need to go have a scan. I can’t clear you until you have it. Your dizziness and hesitation with the mental exercises has me concerned. I’m ninety percent positive you’ve received a concussion from your injury. No matter how large or small, it’s still the same process for recovery. I’ll go over the scan results when I receive them, but for now, I’m pulling you from practice until further notice.”
“But I’m okay. Honestly, I’m fine.” I protest.
“Have you had a concussion in the past?”
“Yes.”
“All the more reason to be extra cautious. Gymnastics is a risky sport as it is, Sophie. I’m not willing to allow permanent damage to your body and you shouldn’t either. You’ll get back to the gym faster if you listen to what I’m saying and follow my instructions.”
“Can I at least do cardio?”
“Walking is fine, everything else can wait. Your body needs to heal. You can’t run while you’re dizzy, Sophie.”
I hang my head knowing that walking won’t help me with conditioning at all. I hop off the examination table and accept the order form for the test. While all of this seems ridiculous, I’m wise enough to know it’s necessary. Whether I like it or not, I messed up and have to play by their rules now.
“Believe it or not, I do understand your frustrations, but we have to be smart about this. With your prior concussion history, it takes less and less each time to produce a more severe result. Come back and see me in a week, Sophie. It’s not up for debate. We’ll reevaluate your condition and see what we can add to your workout regimen. If you have any trouble in class, please tell your professors to give me a call. I’ll confirm your condition.”
“Okay,” I whisper, knowing I don’t want to accept the words he’s telling me. “Can I go now?”
“Yes, take this card. This is where you need to go for your test this evening. It’s also on the top of the order form. Please have someone take you. No driving until next week either.”