by Suzanne Weyn
As the Huskers gained on Arnie, Norval tried to get into position, should Arnie decide to lateral the ball.
Arnie juked left and right as he muscled toward the end zone. He’s showing off for the scouts, Norval realized.
With only a couple of yards to go, Arnie was dragging two defenders along with him. Then a third Husker hit Arnie hard. He went down at the one -yard line, losing the ball as he fell.
After the tackle, Arnie slowly pulled himself up. As the whistle blew to end the half, he slouched off the field, veering to the side as though he were off-balance.
Kadeem jogged alongside Norval, then tilted his helmet in Arnie’s direction. “See that?”
Norval nodded. He was glad Kadeem had noticed. It proved to Norval that he hadn’t been imagining it—Arnie had weaved to the right just then. It wasn’t a good sign.
I
n the locker room, Jerome confronted Arnie. “What’s the matter with you, man? I was open. Norval was clear. Why didn’t you get rid of the ball? You could see those guys were coming for you.”
Arnie took off his helmet and stared at him blankly. He didn’t even seem angry. Just confused. “I didn’t see them.”
“How could you not?” Jerome shouted. “They were hanging on you!”
The other players began to gather around. Arnie held his blank stare.
“Answer me!” Jerome demanded. “Are you high? I think you’re stoned.”
Norval stepped in. “Come on, Jerome. You know that’s not true. Tell him, Arnie.”
“No, I’m not stoned,” Arnie said flatly.
“You’re a liar,” Jerome shouted, shoving Arnie.
Arnie staggered back and tripped over the bench. A sickening crack sounded as Arnie’s head hit the cement floor. Arnie’s eyes shut. His face seemed to relax—go limp, almost.
Norval knelt beside him. “Arnie! Arnie!” he cried, trying to rouse his friend. He was rising to get help when Arnie’s eyes flickered open.
“How do you feel?” Norval asked urgently.
Arnie looked at him but didn’t answer.
Kadeem peered at Arnie from over Norval’s shoulder. “What’s going on, Arnie?”
Arnie pulled himself up.
“I didn’t mean for you to hit your head like that,” Jerome said sullenly. “I’m sorry, man.”
Arnie sat on the bench and dismissed Jerome with a wave. “Whatever.” He looked to Kadeem and Norval. “I’m not stoned. I would never do that, especially not during a game.”
“We know. It’s cool,” Norval said.
“You okay to play the rest of the game?” Kadeem asked.
“Yeah. Definitely.”
Kadeem gave Arnie’s shoulder a friendly slap and walked off. Norval sat beside Arnie. “Looked like you were somewhere else for a couple of seconds. Are you sure you should play?”
“What are you? My mom?” Arnie said, getting up. “Of course I can play. There are scouts out there.”
Arnie’s timing was off in the second half and so was his judgment, but the Titans won the game. They still had a shot at the play-offs.
“Sorry I was so awful today,” Arnie murmured as the team left the locker room together.
“You probably shouldn’t have played after getting that crack on the head during halftime,” Norval replied. “Go home. Get some sleep.”
“Yeah. That’s what I need. I’ll be better in the morning.”
A
rnie didn’t come to school on Monday. Norval tried his cell, but Arnie didn’t pick up. He didn’t respond to Norval’s texts, either.
Arnie and Norval had different schedules on Tuesday, so Norval didn’t see him then, either. But he assumed that Arnie would at least be at practice. To Norval’s surprise, Arnie wasn’t.
Arnie would have to be really sick to miss practice, Norval thought. Maybe something’s seriously wrong.
“I’m worried about Arnie,” Kadeem said as he and Norval headed off the field. “He’s never missed drills before.”
“I know,” Norval agreed. “And he got hit bad on Saturday—twice on the field and once in the locker room.”
“Yeah,” Kadeem recalled. “That’s a lot of damage in one day.”
“Did you tell Coach about what happened in the locker room?” Norval asked.
Kadeem shook his head. “I didn’t want him to take Arnie out of the game. He got up right away. Did you tell?”
“No,” Norval said. “Same reason.”
“Want me to check on him?”
“I’ll do it,” Norval said. “I pass his place on my way home.”
“Great. Let me know what’s going on,” Kadeem said as he jogged toward the locker room.
“Hey, Norval!”
Lara Velez approached him before he entered the locker room. “You looked great out there today.”
“Thanks.”
“I hear you have colleges looking to make you offers,” Lara went on. “You’ll definitely get in. You were awesome last game.”
“Thanks, Lara.”
“I think maybe you and I should get together and hang out some night, Norval,” Lara said. “What do you think?”
She smiled at him, her dark eyes sparkling. What was going on? Why was she coming on so strong?
“I don’t think Arnie would like that too much,” Norval replied. “Aren’t the two of you kind of together?”
“Not anymore,” Lara said firmly.
“What happened?” Norval asked.
“I was supposed to go to the movies with him on Saturday night after the game. He just left me hanging. He called later that night and said he fell asleep. I let it go. But then he was supposed to come over last night, too, and he never showed—again.”
New worries hit Norval. “Did you talk to him?”
“No! He totally blew me off—wouldn’t even return my texts,” Lara said.
“So you thought you’d get back at him by hitting on one of his best friends. You know Sadie and I are together.”
“Oh sure,” Lara snarled. “Like you’re such a great guy that you’d never cheat.”
“I don’t think I’m such a great guy, but I do know that Sadie and I are solid. She wouldn’t mess around with someone else, and I wouldn’t do it to her.”
“Forget you, Norval!” Lara said. “I was just being friendly. Don’t flatter yourself.”
Norval shook his head as Lara stormed away, then headed into the locker room. Arnie would be better off without Lara, he thought. It made him appreciate Sadie that much more. He felt lucky that they were together.
I
nside the locker room, Norval asked the other players if they had heard from Arnie. None of them had. It wasn’t like Arnie not to text or call.
Norval was about to leave the mostly empty locker room when Coach Green tapped him on the shoulder. “I noticed Arnie wasn’t here today,” he said. “Anything you want to tell me?”
“Nothing I could really say for sure,” Norval replied.
“He took some bad hits last game,” Coach Green reminded him. “And Jerome told me about the scuffle in the locker room. I think he was worried someone else would tell me first.”
The coach fixed his hard, meaningful stare on Norval.
“What?” Norval asked, his resentment rising. Why was watching Arnie his job? “Do you mean I should have told you?”
“He got clocked again, Norval,” Coach Green said, frowning. “Didn’t you think I should know that after everything we talked about?”
Norval didn’t want to be sanctioned for disrespect, so he tried to control himself. “I told you I wouldn’t spy on Arnie. Don’t you remember?”
“He lost consciousness,” Coach Green said. He seemed to be fighting his own temper. “Someone should have told me sooner. I wouldn’t have let him play the rest of the game if I’d known.”
“He was only out for a second.”
“A person doesn’t need to lose consciousness to suffer a concussion. The fact that he actually
passed out makes things that much more serious, though. I called his house to speak to his parents, but they weren’t in. I left a message. So far they haven’t returned my call. You or Kadeem should have told me what happened. Why can’t you guys get that through your heads?”
“It just seems wrong,” Norval said. “We’re teammates!”
“That’s exactly why you guys should be looking out for one another!” Coach Green cried.
“I’ll stop over there on my way home,” Norval said.
“Great,” the coach said, his voice calm again. “Please talk to me when you find out how he’s doing. At the very least, promise me you’ll talk sense to Arnie if you think he’s got problems related to a concussion.”
Without waiting for Norval’s reply, Coach Green walked out.
Norval snapped up his jacket. The coach’s anxiety might have been contagious. What if something bad had happened to Arnie because Norval didn’t want the responsibility of reporting on him? He needed to assure himself that Arnie really was all right.
W
hen Norval buzzed Arnie’s apartment, no one answered. Norval went back to the sidewalk and called up to the second-floor window.
“Hey, Arnie!”
A few minutes later, Arnie came to the window. When he saw it was Norval, he buzzed him in.
“What’s up, Arnie?” Norval asked as he stepped into Arnie’s small apartment.
“Did you knock before? I was asleep—sorry if I didn’t hear you.”
“Are you sick or something?”
“Kind of.”
“I’ve been calling you. Texting, too,” Norval said. “Why haven’t you answered me?”
Arnie turned away from him. “I told you. I’ve been sleeping a lot. Just been tired lately.”
“Too tired to pick up the phone?” Norval asked. “You want to tell me what’s going on? Lara said you blew her off twice. She’s steamed.”
“Oh, the hell with her. She’s such a pain.”
“Well, how come you were blowing me off too?”
“I don’t feel like talking to anybody.”
“Because you’re tired, right?” Norval asked. “And that’s it?”
Arnie hesitated before answering. “Something’s going on with my eyes, too,” he admitted. “Things are kind of flickering, you know?”
“Weird. Does it hurt?” Norval asked.
Arnie closed his eyes. “No. But it’s like everything’s jumping.”
As he spoke, Arnie put his hands to his midsection. The next moment, he sprinted to the bathroom down the hall.
Seconds later, retching sounds echoed from inside. Once it grew quiet inside, Norval knocked on the door. “You okay?”
The door opened, and Arnie reappeared, looking pale.
“Sit down,” Norval said, turning on the kitchen faucet and filling a glass with water. “What’s going on?” he asked, handing the glass to Arnie.
“I don’t know. I keep puking.”
“How long has that been happening?”
“A couple of weeks,” Arnie said.
“Weeks? Have you been to a doctor?”
“Nope. I feel better once I throw up.”
“Arnie, listen,” Norval said. “Coach Green thinks you have a concussion. He asked me to keep an eye you and tell him what I see. He’s worried about you.”
Arnie leaped to his feet. “Did you tell him anything?”
“Hold on! I told him I wouldn’t do it. But now I’m thinking maybe I should.”
“I don’t believe you!” Arnie cried. “You’ve been ratting me out. How could you do this to me?”
“I wouldn’t say anything to him without talking to you first,” Norval said. “But I’m starting to agree with Coach. I think you’ve got a concussion, man.”
A
rnie swore and slammed his hand on the kitchen table. “You’re not a doctor!” he shouted. “Neither is Coach Green!”
“You have a lot of concussion symptoms,” Norval said calmly. There was no sense getting as angry as Arnie. A shouting match was the last thing they needed.
“Like what?” Arnie asked.
“Like vomiting?”
“It’s probably food poisoning,” Arnie argued.
“Food poisoning doesn’t last two weeks,” Norval said. “Mood swings are another symptom.”
“I’ve been okay.”
“No you haven’t, man,” Norval said. “You’ve been mean as hell.”
“That’s just ’cause of the headaches.”
“Headaches are another symptom.” Norval thought back to Arnie’s blank test paper and what Coach Green had said about lack of focus. “And you never explained why you stood Lara up twice. What was that about?”
“I forgot. She’s making a big deal out of nothing. It just slipped my mind.”
“Twice? You forgot twice?”
“So what? You’re just like her—making a fuss over nothing.”
Suddenly angry shouts reached them from down the hall. Behind a closed door, a man and woman were having an argument. Norval looked to Arnie with questioning eyes.
“It’s just my parents,” Arnie said. “They’re always fighting.”
Norval felt embarrassed for Arnie and tried to ignore the rising voices. “You have to get yourself checked out by a doctor.”
“No!” Arnie cried. “So what if I have a concussion? There’s nothing to do but wait for it to heal. There’s no medicine—it just has to get better. And it will.”
“Not if you keep getting hit,” Norval said.
The yelling from the other room got louder. Something crashed against a wall.
Arnie wilted down into one of the kitchen chairs. He cradled his head in his hands. “You can’t tell Coach. It would screw me over big time. I can’t stand living here. They fight all the time. I’ve got to get out, and the only way that will happen is if I get a football scholarship.”
“Coach left them a phone message,” Norval told him.
“I know. I got to it first and deleted it,” Arnie said. “If the coach pulls me out for the rest of the season, there won’t be any recruitment offers. No scholarship. I’m telling you, I’ll go nuts if I have to spend any more time in this apartment.”
“If you won’t go to a doctor, I have to tell the coach,” Norval said.
“I’m begging you, Norval. Don’t do it. I can’t take all the fighting. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope that I’ll get to college.”
No wonder Arnie was so desperate to get out, Norval thought. How could he ruin Arnie’s chances?
“Norval, no kidding. Please,” Arnie said. He seemed close to tears.
Norval wished he had never heard the word concussion. “Go to a doctor, Arnie. If you do, I won’t say anything.”
“All right. I’ll go. I swear. Just don’t talk to Coach or anyone else. Promise?”
“All right. I promise.” Even as he said the words, though, Norval worried that he’d spoken too quickly. He hoped it wouldn’t be a promise he’d regret keeping.
N
orval sat in front of his computer later that night, browsing YouTube videos about concussions. The news was bad—even worse than he had thought. He listened to experts who had studied the brains of athletes who had died. A number of the athletes showed signs of the problems that Coach Green had mentioned. These athletes had died long after their concussions, though. Concussions could have much more immediate effects.
Norval stayed glued to the screen as he watched personal accounts from teen athletes who had been affected. Some of their symptoms were mild. Some were severe. Some of the kids had suffered so much brain damage that they couldn’t finish school tests anymore, or even remember what they had learned. Some had tried to soothe the depression or rage they felt after their brain injuries by turning to drugs or alcohol. Some of them had to be placed in special classes at school because they could no longer keep up with the work.
Norval remembered the blank looks on Arnie’s face
during the English quiz and when Jerome had been accusing him of drug use. It was almost as if he hadn’t understood what was being said to him.
With a worried sigh, Norval watched another video. This one was on something called secondary impact syndrome.
When the brain is healing itself from a concussion, the narrator said, a second hit could cause a massive swelling in the brain. The secondary impact could be as slight as a mild knock to the head. It sets off a reaction even more severe than the brain’s reaction to the original hard hit.
Norval sat back in his chair, stunned.
A secondary impact concussion could cause death.
Arnie had been hit hard several times in the last few weeks alone. Who knew how many times he’d been hit before that?
Norval picked up his cell and called Arnie. “Arnie, do one thing for me,” he said when Arnie picked up. “Go to BIAV.net.” Norval had found the site after clicking around YouTube. It was the Brain Injury Association of Virginia’s website. “Just read some of the stuff on there, okay? I think you really need to consider sitting out.”
Arnie started to curse. “You just don’t get it, do you, Norval? If you say anything about this to the coach, you and me are going to have a big problem.”
“Don’t be that way, Arnie,” Norval said. “Come on. Be smart. We’ve been friends for years—you’ve got to trust me on this.”
“Why should I, Norval? You’ve always been jealous of me.”
“J-j-jealous?” Norval sputtered. “Are you crazy?”
“You heard me,” Arnie said. “Jealous.” Without another word, he hung up the phone.
Norval sat there, stunned. Arnie really was losing it.
He felt angry, devastated. Arnie’s words had hurt him. And staying angry would be easier than staying hurt. Norval was done with Arnie, he decided. From that moment on, he didn’t care what happened to Arnie Johnson.
A
rnie was back in school the next day, but he kept away from Norval until they passed each other in the hall before practice.
Norval tried to ignore Arnie, but Arnie grabbed his arm. “Back off, man,” Norval growled.
