“Where is she?” Based on the numbness of my hand, she must have just left.
“Getting another box of tissues from the nurse,” Becca says. “She wouldn’t leave the room until I promised to keep an eye on you.”
“Gee, thanks,” I say.
Becca winces at my sarcasm. “Do you hate me or something?”
“You make it pretty easy,” I say. “You stole my boyfriend and my position on the soccer team. You even stole my tree.”
“Me? I stole…?” Becca’s face puckers up. Even her confused face is cute. “Well, you can have all those things back. I never wanted them in the first place.”
“Becca, I saw you. Up in the tree. With Rick.”
“How was I supposed to know it was your tree? Who claims a tree?”
“And next you’re going to say you didn’t know Rick was my boyfriend.”
“Of course I knew that. That’s why I pushed him away when he tried to make a move on me. Here I was trying to tell him why I was quitting as a goalie, and all he wanted to do was get his hands on me.”
Suddenly I’m the one who’s making the confused face. “You want to quit playing goalie?”
“I hate playing goalie almost as much as I hate Coach Berg.” The words come out in an angry rush followed by a huge sigh. “No offense, but it’s way more fun to score on someone than to get scored on.”
“None taken,” I say. “I’m quitting too.”
“What? You can’t. If you quit, then Coach will make me the goalie forever.”
“The whole swollen brain thing doesn’t give me much of a choice, does it?”
“Not for this season. But your mom said the doctor thinks you’ll be ready for next season.” Becca’s so excited that every bit of her is moving. Her fingers are drumming against her thigh and she’s rocking back and forth on her heels. “Tell me you’re going to keep playing goalie, Alyssa. Please?”
“I’ll think about it,” I say, even though I don’t need to think about it at all. If and when it becomes safe, I will definitely play again. I already feel myself transforming back into the beast that I am. “You pushed Rick?” I ask.
“Right off the branch.”
“Is he okay?”
“Um. Not really? He broke his arm. But the doctor says it’ll heal in plenty of time for his season in the fall.”
I know it shouldn’t, but the image of Rick in a sling makes me smile. I guess he was right—the poplar tree really is dangerous. Especially if you try to hit on someone who’s not your girlfriend.
Honestly, I’m impressed. Maybe Becca does have a little beast in her after all.
It’s been more than a month since my second concussion, and the wooziness waves are pretty rare these days. In any case, I’m in no rush to get back on the field. The season’s over anyway. We made it to the quarterfinals of the state tournament before losing 1–0 in overtime. Becca played great, but as soon as the game was over she told Coach she was never going to be a goalie again. He yelled at her, but what else is new? A part of me was even jealous of her in that moment. If Coach is yelling at you, that means he’s noticing you. Hopefully, next year he’ll have a few reasons to yell at me.
Of course, I plan on doing plenty of yelling too.
But that’s all a long ways away. The doctor explained that healing is a slow process full of little steps, and I’ve been doing my best to follow her advice. Still, I’ve decided to take a slightly bigger step than normal.
I’ve decided to climb my tree. In fact, I’m standing under it now. The leaves are still green, and they’ll stay that way for the rest of the summer. I take a deep breath and grab a branch. After a few more breaths, I hoist myself up. Finding a comfortable spot, I look at the field and imagine my future.
The Beast Page 5
