The Broken Ones (Jesus Freaks #3)

by Andrea Randall

  A few seconds later, both teams are back out on the field and the stadium is nearly silent. Just a small hum of energy rippling through the crowd as the third quarter clock ticks away second by second.

  It looks like Carter is going to try the play they did a little while ago, where Matt starts on the far side of the field and weaves his way closer. I have no idea what the purpose of his position is in a normal game, but he’s been all over the field through most of this one.

  “Here we go…” Finn says as the ball is tossed and action starts.

  This play has lasted longer than most through the game and Matt is giving it his all. Everyone is. The energy is almost suffocating. Slowly, cheers and hollers rise from the stands as Matt draws the play farther down field and he makes his way toward the side I’m standing on.

  But, it doesn’t last long.

  A hard, loud collision sucks the wind from the crowd and straight from my lungs. Matt is hit from the front and back. Hard, by two players as big as he is. His body goes limp in an impossible instant and he falls at an angle that doesn’t look real. The rest of the teams dump on them in a massive pile, unaware, it seems, of just how unlikely it is that this is a normal play.

  “God,” Finn whispers, looking up from his camera and straight at me.

  “What?” I ask, panicked, looking between him and the field. I want him to tell me I didn’t see what I just saw.

  Before he answers, slow motion kicks in, and everything falls apart.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The Football Player

  Kennedy

  Buck. Flash. Roland. Flash.

  My mind takes in the information in slow shutter speed. Clicks on a camera. It’s not until I catch the sight of Dan racing by me, in step with Roland and Buck, and my mother, Eden, and Jonah circling Finn and me that I can fully process what’s going on.

  Player by player the tackle breaks apart. And almost everyone stands up. Carter players lunge after Guilford players and a small brawl breaks out. But it stops quickly. Because only almost everyone has stood up.

  We’re just close enough that I can read the number on the jersey lying in the grass, and my legs immediately go weak. Number fifty-seven. Matt is on the ground, face-up and unmoving.

  Silence chokes the crowd and not a single sound can be heard over a CU player, number eighteen, screaming for help.

  “He’s out! He’s out!”

  “No,” I whisper once before it turns into a moan. “No!” I lunge forward, but am pulled back by my mom and Jonah.

  “You can’t go out there,” Mom says. “You know that. Just wait. And breathe.”

  I can’t do either of those things. I shake myself free of their holds, not even hearing what Jonah’s saying, and I race to the rope that separates spectators from the field. The trainer who’s tended to Matt for most of the game is on the ground next to him, checking for a pulse.

  “Do something!” I hit Dan’s arm and gesture to the field as if he’s engaging in the most egregious form of malpractice.

  He puts his hands up, gentle, addressing me while assessing the field. “They’re doing what they can right now, Kennedy.”

  “But you’re a doctor,” I plead.

  “You are?” Buck asks, anxious but trying to hide it in his tense jaw. “Come.”

  “I don’t think we can go out there,” Roland tries.

  Buck eyes him, gesturing to Dan. “With him we can. And, that’s my son, I’ll do what I damn well please. I know to stay out of the way.”

  The three of them walk to the assistant coach, who mouths something into his headset that gets the attention of the head coach, who is on the field next to the trainer. The coach waves them onto the field, and in an instant, Dan is kneeling next to Matt, engaged in a serious conversation with the trainer.

  Get up. Wake up. Get up.

  Both teams kneel at center field. A common practice in football that I recognize from high school when any player gets injured. Looking behind me, however, I see most of the spectators with heads bowed, and some on their knees, too. Including Eden, who’s with a small huddle of students about ten feet from me.

  “You’re filming this?” I hiss at Finn.

  He shrugs. “Camera’s rolling.” But he’s chewing on the inside of his lower lip.

  Roland picks up his cell phone, talks into it briefly, then jogs back to where I’m standing. Mom and Jonah come to either side of me.

  “What is it?” Mom asks, sounding uncharacteristically shaken which does little to help my nausea.

  Roland’s jaw flexes before he talks—terrible news is on its way. “I’ve called the ambulance. They’re on their way. He’s unconscious but breathing, which is good.”

  “It’s good?” I snap.

  “Head injuries happen all the time in football. We won’t know anything else until he’s X-rayed and wakes up.”

  Anything else.

  I turn to Jonah, gripping his hand like it’s my lifeline. “He’s going to be okay though, right? Tell me he’s going to be okay.”

  “He’s going to be fine,” Jonah says, pulling me into a hug.

  Which I would have believed if he hadn’t taken a second look to the field before answering me.

  After about a year and a half, the ambulance comes and Dan stands, having what looks to be a thorough discussion with the EMT’s. A backboard is lowered to the ground and it seems like ten people surround Matt. The trainer, Dan, three EMT’s… and just… all these people.

  To my horror, the EMT’s administer some sort of IV to Matt once he’s on the stretcher. This can’t be good. And I push forward, my body demanding access to the field and, ultimately, him.

  “Ma’am,” a police officer says as if my best friend isn’t in a heap, “you have to stay back.”

  I go hysterical in an instant, calling after him until my voice grows hoarse. As if I have the ability to wake him. “Matt!” I scream, and again, “Matt! Matt! Matt…”

  ***

  In the private waiting room the hospital was gracious enough to provide, I pace. Back and forth in front of Roland, Dan, and my mom while Buck does some pacing of his own between the emergency room and where we are.

  Roland had the solemn duty of calling Buck’s wife, Matt’s mom, to fill her in since Buck wasn’t sure he could make it through the call. There’s barely any information anyway, which is the worst of it all. Word is she’s on the next flight out which will have her arriving here by morning.

  Eden and Jonah asked me to join them in the chapel and I told them I would, but I lied. I’m not going anywhere.

  “What was with that IV they started on the field?” I ask of the bag hanging over Matt before they loaded him into the ambulance.

  “Steroids,” Dan answers. “When there’s risk of spinal injury—”

  “What?” I half-shout.

  Dan swallows. “He hit the ground really hard, Kennedy, and was knocked unconscious. Spinal injuries are common in football, but are worse if the cord swells or other things swell to press on the cord. When that starts to happen, a situation can become more critical by the second. Permanent nerve damage to the spinal cord is not something you want to deal with. The steroids help reduce and prevent swelling.”

  I nod, slow. A knock on the door turns me around to find Caitlyn staring shyly into the room. “Kennedy?” she asks soft, “can I talk to you for a second?”

  Surprised to see her, I nod and exit the room into a much louder hallway. “What’s up?”

  “I came to the chapel,” she starts, nervously. “Some people said they saw you and Jonah and Eden take off and figured you’d be here. They’re in the chapel with some of the teammates and the coach…”

  “Okay…”

  “Sorry,” she flushes and takes a deep breath. “I was going to find you after the game, but…”

  I nod. “Yeah. But.”

  “Any news? On Matt?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “But why did you want to find me after th
e game?”

  “Courtney’s ready to tell,” she blurts out. “I called and filled her in on everything, but not Asher, though… I still don’t know what to do with that.” She looks to her hands.

  Startled by the news, I still offer her comfort. “Yeah, me either. Is she sure?”

  Caitlyn nods. “Yeah. She doesn’t feel alone.”

  I sigh, relieved. “I was going to talk to Finn after the game, but… I just… I don’t know what I’m going to do right now.” I gesture to our new, ominous surroundings.

  “I thought your parents were going to—”

  Holding up my hand, I cut her off. “We’ve got to do it,” I say of The Resistance. “It’s the only way it’ll work, don’t you think?”

  She shrugs. “Not the only way, but certainly the most fun way.” She offers a small grin.

  “Is the main waiting room a madhouse?”

  Caitlyn nods. “You bet. Even though they asked people to either return to their dorms or stay at the stadium for a prayer vigil, people are still here. Some to support Matt, and some jockeying for camera time.”

  My nose crinkles. “Seriously? Ew. Anyway, I’ll let you know once we kind of figure out what the… heck we’re going to do, okay? I can’t even think about it right this second, but it’ll be done. Soon.” I feel like I’m splitting in two. I don’t want this life right now.

  Caitlyn gently rubs my arm. “It just seems really bad right now,” is all she says before walking away.

  Seems.

  I return to the small room seconds ahead of Buck, who tells us Matt’s been moved to a private room, still unconscious.

  “The good news is his brain scans are showing a mild concussion.”

  “That’s the good news?” I ask.

  Buck sinks into a chair next to Roland and cradles his head in his hands for a second before rubbing his face and facing us with what I suppose will be the bad news.

  “Right now it looks like he’s got a pretty good compression fracture to at least one of his lumbar vertebrae, and a herniated disk, maybe a blown one, that’ll likely needs surgery but they can’t figure out yet what nerve damage, if any, he has. Dan,” he addresses my stepdad, “would you come with me to talk more to the doctor? I could use another set of ears.”

  Dan rises. “Of course.”

  “Can I come?” I beg, wearily.

  “I don’t know if there’s anything to do,” Mom says. “Except to wait.”

  “Maybe I can wait in Matt’s room?” I ask with renewed hope.

  Roland and Mom protest, but Buck holds up his hand. “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe it’ll do him some good to have a friend in there. Who knows?”

  My chest warms at the thought of just seeing him. So much so that I nearly sprint all the way to where he is, quiet in a dark room surrounded by machines and beeps. I enter the room before given clearance, behaving bold in my G-List fame. I trust Dan and Buck will take care of it, and I don’t intend to touch him or anything.

  Well, maybe just his hand.

  “Oh, Matty,” I whisper, sinking into the chair next to the bed and reaching for his fingers. Finally, I cry. Good and hard like I’m alone in the room, I rest my head on his hand and sob over the sound of the beeps. “I’m scared, Matt. I’m scared that you’re really hurt. But you can’t be, right?” I continue as if he can hear me. “You worked too hard to get here, and have so much going for you. That game was great,” I ramble. “You were the star.”

  There’s a light knock on the doorframe, and I find Dan waving and motioning for me to join him in the hallway. Reluctantly, I go, not taking my eyes away from Matt until the very last second.

  In the hall, I’m greeted by Buck, Dan, Mom, Roland, Matt’s coach, and the captain of the team.

  “They’re hoping he wakes up soon,” Roland says to the coach. “So we can assess what surgery needs to be done.”

  “Can you do the surgery?” I ask Dan.

  He chuckles, but soon realizes I’m serious. “No,” he answers plainly.

  “And why not?” I ask incredulously.

  “For one thing, he’s not my patient and this isn’t my hospital. For another, it’s been years since I’ve performed surgery. And most importantly, if there’s something wrong where we’re seeing damage, that’s going to be a neurologist’s call—the spine is outside my area of expertise. This isn’t a blown kneecap or torn Achilles heel, Kennedy. This is someone’s ability to walk altogether.”

  I mean to answer Dan, to apologize for my rudeness and to ask more about Matt’s potential injury, but a large, dark shadow encases us.

  “Get out,” I spit toward Dean Baker. A horrified look spreads across my mother’s face. Tension and confusion fill the rest of the faces.

  “I beg your pardon?” he asks. He has the gall to ask.

  “Now,” I sneer. “This is no place for you.”

  In an instant my mom grabs my hand and yanks me away down a side hallway. “Get your act together, young lady.”

  “No!” I squeak out in a tiny wail. “He’s awful. Matt’s hurt and he’s sniffing around. He needs to go away.”

  She takes a deep breath. “Yes. He does. But you can’t cause a scene. Not here and not like this. I’m going to get coffee. Do you want to come with me, or can I trust that you’ll keep it together until things have calmed down.”

  I roll my eyes. “Keep it together,” I answer like a scolded child.

  Mom seems to have recruited everyone to go with her, because the hall soon goes silent. Footsteps rounding the corner startle me, until I realize it’s just Finn.

  “Hey,” I say, my voice hoarse from all the crying I’ve done in the last few hours.

  “What was that about?” he asks, leaning against the wall, facing me.

  “What?”

  “I was rounding the corner earlier when I saw you snap at the dean. Does this have anything to do with what you wanted to tell me earlier?”

  I sigh and start to deflect his question. Only start to. Then I recall my earlier chat with Caitlyn, my promise to my friends and myself, and I think of my helpless best friend lying at the mercy of modern medicine.

  Something has to give.

  “It does,” I finally say. “Come with me.” I give his shirt a quick tug before wandering down the hallways of the hospital.

  “Just out of curiosity, where are we going?”

  “To find a police officer.”

  ***

  It’s well after ten p.m., and visiting hours have long since ended, but that doesn’t stop me from sitting next to Matt, holding his hand. Mom and Roland left an hour ago, and Dan has promised to stay as long as it takes to get answers and translate them for me. Buck basically added me to the family list, so I’ve been here in my own private vigil for a while.

  Jonah and Eden talked to me before they left, and have each texted me since. Jonah’s clearly giving me space, and I appreciate it. If he’s insecure about this situation in any way, he’s not showing it. And, I’m not sure it would do him any good if he did.

  None of them know that I talked to Finn, and to a state police officer we found patrolling the waiting room. I had a hunch I needed a state cop over a local one—I don’t know how far Dean Baker’s tentacles stretch. She told me she’d be contacting me in the morning, and to expect to have to come to the station for questioning.

  That’s all secondary, really, to the beeps and the still body of my best friend.

  “Hey,” I call to Matt in a whisper now that we’re alone for a few minutes. “You wanna wake up?”

  Nothing.

  The TV in the corner of the room catches my attention. It’s a preview for the eleven o’clock news, and it’s flashing pictures of Carter University and Dean Baker.

  Can it be?

  Immediately my phone rings and chimes with calls and text messages. Mom. Roland. Eden. Jonah.

  I turn up the volume and am glad to hear my name isn’t mentioned at all. Not yet, anyway. The preview team promises break
ing news and legal action at one of the nations “most sacred universities.”

  And so it’s done.

  The cat’s out of the bag and the skeletons are all free to dance.

  I sit for ten minutes, ignoring phone calls and texts. Even one from Stephanie, the NBC exec. I just sit in the silence that is sure to end quickly and not come back for a long time. I don’t feel as scared as I thought I would.

  I answer my mom’s tenth call, quiet so as not to disturb an unresponsive Matt.

  “Hello?”

  “What’d you do?” she asks plainly.

  “Stood up for myself and at least one rape victim,” I answer just as plain.

  She pauses. “Fair enough. Are you ready for this?”

  “I have to be.”

  A disturbance at the nurses station catches my attention.

  “Mom, I have to go, I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

  I tiptoe to the door and look straight into a nightmare when I see Dan face-to-face with Dean Baker.

  “What has she done?” the dean asks. “And where is she?”

  Quickly I turn against the wall, facing Matt, hiding like a cat burglar.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dan answers. “And she’s home with her mother right now while we wait for a very hurt kid to wake up. I suggest you take your anger elsewhere.”

  He’s flawless and unflinching in his response.

  “Then why do I have police calling me, telling me to report to the station at eight a.m. tomorrow for questioning?”

  “I don’t know why you’re asking me about your personal affairs, sir. I don’t even believe we’ve ever met.”

  Before the conversation can continue, a police officer breaks it up and instructs the dean to leave. There’s more scuffle, more angry conversation.

  “This isn’t the last of this,” the dean says. Meaning it by the venom in his voice.

  No, it’s not the last of it for you, that’s for sure.

  But a small movement out of the corner of my eye draws my attention away from the nurse’s station.