by Clay Cormany
"I wonder if he’s hurt," piped in Sylvia.
The three of them watched while Ron, who took several strides before realizing Carson was no longer with him, doubled back to check on his cousin as Ned trotted out to join him. Their joy over Carson’s collapse faded, as he lay motionless on the track, unresponsive to his friends’ efforts to revive him. Ned bent down and put his head to Carson’s chest. Then he jerked upright, shouting words that chilled their blood.
"Somebody call an ambulance! He’s not breathing!"
Chapter Thirty-seven
For one wild second the three of them stood there as if in a trance. A second shout — almost a wail from Ned tore them out of their stupor.
"Hurry up and get some help before he dies!"
Jace grabbed Stick's arm and pointed to the houses on the street across from the stadium.
"Run over to one of those homes and call nine-one-one. Go through the parking lot. It’ll be quicker."
"Wait, I’ve got a cell phone," Sylvia interjected. "I can call from here."
"Okay, do it. Stick, stay here with Sylvia and make sure the ambulance knows where Carson is." Jace spoke over his shoulder as he began running toward the opposite end of the track.
"What’re you going to do?" Stick shouted.
"Try to save him."
In the fifteen seconds it took him to reach Carson’s prone figure, Jace mentally rehearsed the CPR procedures he learned while helping Phoebe with her first aid badge. He also promised God that he would never again refuse to help Phoebe with any other badge she might try to earn. Skydiving, snake charming, shark hunting — it didn’t matter — he’d be there for her.
Even before he reached the scene of the emergency, Jace could see Ron looking anxiously in every direction. Ned, in the meantime, hovered over Carson and jostled his friend’s shoulders as if trying to wake him from a deep sleep.
"Carson…Carson," Ned pleaded. "Wake up, bro!"
"Stop that," Jace ordered before kneeling down on the opposite side of his stricken rival.
"Why? What’re you going to do?"
Ned’s voice had a suspicious tone, and that made sense, since a few minutes ago Jace and Carson were enemies. But it was a different world now, and if he didn’t get to work soon, it would be a sadder world, too.
"CPR. Now get out of the way."
Jace put his fingers on Carson’s neck. The flesh felt warm — a good sign — but he found no trace of a pulse, and as Ned said, there was no breathing either. He moved the fingers of his left hand across the bottom of Carson’s ribcage until he came to the notch beneath the breastbone. Placing his right hand just above that spot, he moved his left hand on top of his right, and then wove the fingers together. Locking his elbows, he then began to make a series of quick downward thrusts on Carson’s chest. Jace counted out loud as he completed each compression — one, two, three, four, five, six…all the way to fifteen. Then he moved to Carson's head, opened his mouth, and secured the tongue. He caught a glimpse of Ron's shocked expression just before he put his mouth over Carson's and gave two deep breaths.
"Hey, his chest just went up," shouted Ron. "Is he going to be all right?"
Jace ignored the question and started the CPR process again. Find the breastbone notch. Put hands together just above it. Intertwine the fingers. Begin the compressions. In the midst of pushing down on Carson’s chest, a scary question intruded into his mind. How long could the human brain go without oxygen before it suffered damage? He wasn’t sure, but he knew it couldn’t be more than a few minutes. They might already be past that point.
Finishing another fifteen compressions, he again gave two deep breaths into Carson's mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Carson's chest rise, giving hope that his efforts were not in vain. In the two seconds before he resumed the compressions, Jace was aware of several things — the sweat dripping off his forehead, the salty taste on his tongue, the horrible, expressionless look on Carson’s face, and — did he imagine it? — the ever-so-faint sound of a siren in the distance.
Back to work. Repeat the steps. He acted like a robot, an automaton on an assembly line going through precise motions without either thought or feeling. When he finished the fourth set of compressions, he cradled Carson’s head in his arms like a mother comforting her crying babe and pressed his fingers on the big guy's neck. He thought he felt something. Or was it wishful thinking?
Removing his fingers, he put Carson’s head back down on the track. After two more mouth-to-mouth breaths, he shifted his body around and eased his head over Carson’s torso. Bending down, he put his ear on the teen’s chest and listened. He heard a thump, but faint like an echo just before it vanishes into oblivion. Jace started a new set of compressions, but before he could finish, a sound — something between a gasp and a cough — broke free from Carson’s lips. Ron and Ned cheered and Jace put his ear to Carson’s chest one more time. heard a clear heartbeat now along with the soft rush of breath coming from Carson’s mouth.
Jace toppled back onto his elbows in fatigue and as he did, he both heard and saw the ambulance moving down the road on the east side of the stadium. It pulled into the high school parking lot, where it paused. Rising to his feet, Jace saw Stick run over to the driver’s side window and point in his direction. Seconds later, the ambulance came barreling across the football field, its siren now silent, but its red-and-blue lights continuing to flash. It stopped just a few feet from where Carson lay. The vehicle’s doors burst open, and emergency medical personnel jumped out.
"Is he breathing?" asked an EMT as he bent down beside Carson.
"Yes," said Jace. "He started breathing just a couple of minutes ago."
The EMT put a stethoscope on Carson’s chest while his two partners placed a gurney next to him.
"How long did he go without breathing?" the man asked while he listened to Carson’s heart.
Ned shrugged. Ron shook his head. Jace wasn’t sure himself.
"I’d guess at least four minutes," said a familiar voice. "Or even a little longer." Jace turned around and saw that Sylvia answered the question. He hadn’t seen her walk over from the other side of the track, but — as always — he was glad she was there. The EMT had one more question.
"What was he doing right before he went down?"
"Running laps." Jace jumped in with the answer before anyone else could say anything. "He and I were having a race."
Jace exchanged glances first with Sylvia and then with Ned and Ron. The EMT either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He put his stethoscope away, while one of his partners pulled up Carson's shirt and attached a heart monitor to his chest. It took four EMTs to lift Carson from the track onto the stretcher and then into the back of the ambulance.
"Is he going to be all right?" asked Ned.
"I don’t know," said the EMT who first spoke to them. "If he went four minutes or more without oxygen, there could be brain damage. We’ll take him to the ER at River Park right now. They’ll do more tests on him there."
"Can I go with you?" Ned pleaded.
"No, it’s against regulations," said the EMT, "but you can check on him over at River Park. Someone should notify his family, too."
"We’ll take care of it," said Jace, sounding more confident than he felt.
The EMTs returned to the ambulance — two staying in the back with Carson—and soon it raced across the football field again. The vehicle passed through the parking lot, went down the east side road, and then disappeared from sight, the shrill cry of the sirens growing fainter as it carried Carson to whatever fate awaited him at the hospital.
Chapter Thirty-eight
For a full minute after the ambulance left, the four teenagers stood in dazed silence. Then Ron spoke to Ned. "We’ve got to find a pay phone or something and call my aunt."
"Here," said Sylvia thrusting out her hand. "You can use my cell phone."
Ron took it, fingered it for a few seconds, and then in a voice that betrayed both frustration
and embarrassment said, "How do you use this thing?"
"Give it to me," said Sylvia. Ron handed the phone back to her. "Now, what’s the number?"
"Uh — five-five-five, four-five-nine-two."
She punched in the numbers, pressed the send button, and then returned the device to him.
"Just talk into it like a regular phone," Sylvia advised.
A few seconds later, Ron completed his call and spoke to Ned.
"My aunt’s going to meet us at the hospital ER." He handed the cell phone back to Sylvia. There was a slight pause. "Thanks," he said.
"No problem."
Ron and Ned trotted across the football field, their feet crunching into the tread marks that the ambulance left in the grass moments earlier. Jace and Sylvia followed at a slower pace. They stopped to pick up Jace’s jacket and water bottle and then continued toward the parking lot.
"I’ll have to get one of those things," Jace said.
"What? You mean a cell phone?"
"Yeah, it probably saved Carson’s life."
"No, cowboy," Sylvia objected. "You saved Carson’s life."
That hadn’t occurred to him, but he guessed she might be right — unless Carson died at the hospital. He pushed the thought from his mind.
"Why do you suppose Carson collapsed like that?" Sylvia continued.
"I don’t know," he answered. "Once at a cross-country meet, this guy from Westport fainted after finishing his run. Our coach thought it was heatstroke."
"So you think Carson might have had heatstroke?"
"I don’t know — maybe." Jace let his head droop, not in fatigue but in shame. "This whole thing was so stupid. Even if Carson had finished the race and we had the fight, it wouldn’t have proven anything."
Sylvia gave a little nod. "You’re right about that." Then she raised her cell phone. "Maybe I’ll see if I can get the number to the—"
"Hey, come on over here!" Stick yelled, waving at them from the parking lot.
Sylvia and Jace stopped in their tracks. They were still a hundred yards or so from the lot, but that was close enough to see their friend. It was also close enough to see who was standing next to him. The blue uniform and shiny badge were a dead giveaway.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Officer Shupe scanned the faces of the five teenagers who surrounded her. She held a ballpoint pen in one hand and a notepad in the other. "What happened out there?"
She didn’t direct the question to anyone in particular, but when Jace cleared his throat, the officer focused on him.
"Carson — he’s the guy they took to the hospital — and I were running laps around the track," Jace declared, trying to stay calm. "He was about finished, then he collapsed all of a sudden."
"He didn’t trip or something?"
Jace shook his head. "His friend here," Jace pointed to Ned, "said he’d stopped breathing. I know CPR, so I ran out to help."
Officer Shupe wrote on her notepad and then continued. "You say you ran out to help. Meaning you weren’t running with him yourself?"
"No, I’d already finished my run."
Officer Shupe addressed Ned. "So you were running with Carson when he collapsed?"
Ned stared at the ground as he spoke. "No, I was just watching him. I ran out after he went down." He brought his head up and jerked a thumb toward Ron. "But his cousin here was out running with him the whole time."
The woman spoke to Ron. "Is that true?"
Ron shuffled his feet and nodded.
Officer Shupe remained silent while she wrote on her pad. Jace didn’t know where all this was leading, but he hoped the officer continued to focus on who was involved in this incident rather than why. If she did, things might be okay. That hope soon vanished.
"Do you guys often run here?"
"No," Jace replied.
"So why did you run here today?"
"We were just having, uh, a little race," Jace responded.
This time Stick jumped in. "Yeah, that’s right. Carson’s on the football team and Jace and I are cross-country runners. There’s sort of a rivalry between the two teams."
"So who was in this race?" Officer Shupe continued.
"Carson and I," Jace said.
"But wait, weren’t you in it, too?" Officer Shupe pointed at Ron, who hunched down as if a weight had dropped on his back.
"Um, yeah, sort of," Ron said, straightening up. "I was keeping pace for my cousin."
"That’s right," Jace added. "Show the officer your stopwatch, Ron."
The acne-faced teen fumbled in his pockets before realizing the watch was still around his neck. He held it up and tried to smile, but the pimples around his mouth along with the crooked teeth made his face look like a grotesque Halloween mask.
Officer Shupe wrote on her pad again and spoke at the same time. "The young man who went to the hospital, Carson — has someone contacted his family?"
Ned, Jace, Sylvia, and Stick all looked at Ron, but when he didn’t say anything, Sylvia answered. "Yes, I gave my cell phone to Ron, and he called Carson’s mom."
Officer Shupe’s eyebrows rose. "So you’ve got a cell phone, eh?"
Sylvia nodded and began to take it out of her pocket, but the officer held up a restraining hand. "No need to show me," she said. "I believe you. Seems like more of you kids have those things now than ever before."
Officer Shupe had the teens write down their names, addresses, and phone numbers on her notepad. "That should do it," she said when they finished. "I’ll be in touch if I need any more information."
The five young people walked away, Ned and Ron to the rust bucket and the other three to Stick’s car.
"Let’s get out of here," Jace said, pulling open the front passenger door.
"I’m all for that," Stick replied.
"Can I bum a ride from you?" asked Sylvia.
"Yeah, hop in the back."
Stick started his car, backed it up, and flew out of the parking lot as if he were late for a date with Cameron Diaz.
"Where do you live?" he asked Sylvia.
"On Wyandotte Road. Do you know where that is?"
"Yeah, been there thousands of times."
As he settled into his seat, Jace gave Sylvia a puzzled look. "How did you get to the stadium anyway?"
"I walked."
"You walked? Why, you must live at least three miles away."
"It’s closer to four miles, but that’s not a big deal. I’ve walked farther than that and in worse weather, too."
"And another thing," Jace continued. "How did you even know about my fight with Carson? I’m sure I never told you."
"Heather was in the parking lot when you had your run-in with Carson. She came to the pool and told me ‘some big ugly guy is going to fight Jace at the stadium Sunday morning.’ That’s how I knew."
Jace opened his mouth and then shut it before saying anything. He had almost asked Sylvia why she wanted to see him fight Carson when it occurred to him that he didn’t want to know. Whatever her reason, he was too tired and too confused right now to deal with it.
"Anyone want to stop for some food?" Stick asked when they passed through the center of town with its restaurants and coffee shops. Both his passengers shook their heads.
Jace slumped against the door and looked at his watch. It was ten minutes after nine. The whole episode — their arrival, his practice run, the argument over Ron, his race with Carson, Carson’s collapse, the CPR, the emergency squad, the questions from Officer Shupe, and everything else — lasted an hour and a half. A trite little adage popped into his mind. "Time flies when you’re having fun." That seemed to be true even when no one was having fun.
Just before nine-fifteen, Stick pulled into the Thornapples’ driveway. Sylvia opened the backdoor but paused before getting out.
"Do you think I should call the hospital and see how Carson is?" she asked.
"Yeah, that’s a good idea," Jace said.
"I’ll let you know what I find out," she rep
lied, her face serious. Then she bounded off toward her house, her auburn hair bouncing around her shoulders.
The numbing fatigue that gripped his body could not stop Jace from realizing a simple fact: Sylvia was as beautiful as her twin. He had seen this beauty as he raced around the track, and he saw it again as Sylvia opened her front door and vanished from sight.
Jace now understood why it took him so long to recognize and appreciate Sylvia's beauty. It was because until the last few weeks, she preferred to be overlooked, to be just another face in the crowd. She stayed in the shadows while promoting her sisters. Yet, even before Sylvia's "awakening," her beauty sometimes came out of hiding, as it did during the pre-season practices. Like a mischievous child who won’t stay in bed, it crept out into the light and showed itself before darting away again. Jace couldn’t figure it out. Why until now did Sylvia not want to look beautiful? What had prevented her from styling her hair or wearing clothes that gave evidence of the curves underneath? He knew these were stupid questions, just as stupid as the race he just ran.
Jace shut his eyes and was close to falling asleep when Stick spoke up. "So, partner, what are your plans for the rest of the day? Going to get yourself fitted with some blue tights and a red cape?"
"Hardly. Right now I just want to go home and rest."
"Are you going to tell your mom what happened?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because she’ll want to know the details, and I don’t want to tell her that Carson and I were going to fight. That'll make her mad."
"Make her mad? But you saved his life. You’re a hero."
"No, I’m not."
"What do you mean? Carson would be dead now if it weren’t for you."
"How do you know he’s not dead? His heart stopped for a long time."
"But it was beating when they put him in the ambulance, so thanks to you, he at least has a chance."
How good of a chance? Jace wondered. He had read about people who, though still alive, were little more than vegetables. Bed-ridden and dependent on others for even their most basic needs, these sad people had no awareness of anything going on around them. Was this the life in store for Carson?
