Chapter 5 A DAY LATER

Anna drives me to school which is a good thing, I don't think I should be driving if I'm still seeing little green aliens after taking my pain pills. She arrives at my house twenty minutes before we're expected to be in devotion. She waits for me to hobble and swing to her car and then she floors the gas pedal all the way, tailgating anything and everything in front of her. The ride is so nerve wrecking, I find myself reaching for the break pedal on my side of the car trying to break for her. Even the aliens are scared!

She drops me off at the front of the school, saving me from unnecessary walking. We say we'll meet back up for lunch. I start feeling anxious knowing I get to see Michael again. Mrs. Bridget isn't in devotion yet; my classmates can be heard all the way down the corridor. My eyes collide with Michael s before locking on. Butterfly wings tickle my insides the way they do before big competitions. I remind myself he has a girlfriend and break our stare, I work my way towards my desk concentrating on each step.

As I take my seat, I can feel his intense stare burning right through me. Instinctively drawn to face him, I nod a greeting, suddenly too shy to use words. I don't want him thinking I'm ignoring him after all the help he gave me yesterday, it's quite the opposite. I find myself not wanting to stop looking at him. Reprieve from the tension occurs when Mrs. Bridget comes barreling in later than usual. She catches sight of my crutches and motions for me to stay seated during the Anthem and prayer. The aliens are sitting too.

Attendance seems to fly by and the buzzer for first period goes off. I remind myself that he is taken, T. A. K. E. N because I cause that.

Devotion is over so quickly, and we have to part ways, with such sorrow I add. I glance one last time at him before turning to leave. He is looking at something on his phone. Maybe HE is trying to spend more time in here because I'm here. I hobble out of the classroom first, proud of myself for resisting all temptation to spend every second with him.

Anna and Lara waited for me at lunch. I take the chair opposite Anna and start eating from her tray. She rolls her eyes, "If you want me to get you food, all you have to do is ask!"

I laugh, "Thanks, I'll have the same as you." She fakes being annoyed.

Lara smiles, "I wouldn't be able to use crutches and carry a tray!

Who does she think you are?" Lara is a cheerleader at our school. She has wavy blond hair that she always wears in braids and the most innocent blue eyes I'd ever seen. She is five foot nothing, so she is always the one being thrown in the air during their cheerleading routines. "Exactly!" I agree, "Who does she think I am?"

Johnson, my exact definition of tall and lanky sneaks up on Lara covering her eyes. I didn't see what Anna finds attractive in him. I guess I must know the guy to get it. Anna frequently comments 'he's so cute' just to explain how cute he is, but being Lara's friend, it's totally uncool. Johnson doesn't do anything for me apart from his smile, that's nice. His blond hair and green eyes barely distract me from the blemishes the size of moon craters on his face. He gives the word acne a whole new meaning.

She reaches behind her feeling him up and says, "Johnson!" He kisses her before helping himself to the chair next to her. I look over to see where Anna is in line, and that's when I start tripping out. MICHAEL is walking towards us carrying his tray of food. He helps himself to a seat directly across from me, nodding shyly once in my direction before addressing his best friend who is sitting next to him, "Johnson."

Anna is heading back to our table, and I catch the wink she sent me from across the cafeteria. She lays the tray in front of me and then rejoins us. I sit quietly and listen to the play-by-play details of Johnson and Michael 's last basketball game against Government college. I catch myself wanting to look at Michael, but I stop myself on more than one occasion. Whenever I weaken and sneak a peek, I catch him always looking back at me. Once I found him staring passed me and I sensed someone standing behind me. My eyes shifted to Anna who looks at me and says, "Hi Juliet."

I turned around to find this beautiful girl standing behind me. Her auburn hair is smooth and silky, catching the light at almost every angle, a shoe in for hair commercials. Her eyes, aren't as perfect because right now they are black with anger. She is holding her books to her chest and tapping her foot impatiently on the ground, "Michael, outside now!" she orders turning around and storming away.

Johnson looks at Michael, "When are you going to stop taking shit from her? 'Michael, outside now,'" he mimics. Michael doesn't budge. His eyes search mine like he's looking for an answer, "You better go," I encourage. He collects his books angrily and goes after her.

One Month Later, Mom insists on coming with me to my M.R.I. appointment. I go to the office to pick up my result and wait for her at the front door. I stare at the cars parked in the parking lot, when someone accidentally brushes passed me.

It's Michael. I stop breathing for a second when I see him, "I'm so sorry," I stutter out an apology. Unable to recover from sounding like a complete imbecile I shift my gaze back out the door praying for mom to come sooner rather than later.

"No problem," he replies coolly. "Are you going to the M.R.I. today?"

Like Oh My God! He remembers. I am in love! Maybe he's in love with me? We're in love! Okay so I'm jumping the gun, but there's nothing wrong with dreaming or at least hoping. I wouldn't be the kind of skater I am today if I didn't have dreams and hopes, although I'm injured right now. I must act cool, way cooler than I feel. I have no time to talk myself down, he's waiting for an answer. Juliet. Juliet. Juliet.

"No, I did that already. Mom is taking me to the doctor to find out my results." I say calmly.

"Good luck," he says in a low sexy voice that makes me quiver. I don't see aliens anymore because I'm not taking the pills for pain, but if I did see them, they would be doing a happy dance for me.

"Thanks, there's my ride," I say coolly. I take an extra second to balance on my crutches ensuring no further embarrassment than necessary. I have become quite the professional using them. He rushes to hold the door open for me when we simultaneously notice Juliet coming up the school stairs. She scowls at Michael before croaking under her breath for both of us to hear, "Do you like her?" Only thing is it isn't a question, it's more of a statement. She walks into the school as if she hasn't made the comment and leaves this sense of discord between Michael and myself.

Speechless, I apologize, "Sorry, I didn't mean to upset her." He looks at me and all I can focus on are those pillows like lips reassuring me, "You have nothing to be sorry about." He walks next to me all the way to my mother's car and opens the front door for me. I sit down and then place the crutches into the back seat. Unable and unwilling to look into his eyes. "Thanks," I say before he steps away from the car, so I can close my door. I can feel him watching us as we drive off.

Mom turns the radio down, "Is that the boy that brought you to the hospital?"

"Yes, his name is Michael."

"He's cute," she comments. "I can tell you like him, and that's NOT going to happen. You are not allowed to date boys when you are committed to your figure skating. I've seen it too many times, girls start skipping skating sessions, then they pick up bad habits like smoking. Do you remember that amazing little jumper, Sophia?"

"Yes, whatever happened to her?"

"She had to quit because some guy got her pregnant. The girls who date never finish competing. They quit or injure themselves. I don't want you to be like them."

"I won't be," I promise.

My phone chirps while we were in the waiting room. I pull it out thinking it is Anna, glancing at the secretary, "Is it okay to have this on?" She smiles back at me, "It's no problem dear, thanks for asking."

Mom scowls, "I'm not on mine right now!" "Nobody just texted you," I snap.

MICHAEL: I just wanted to wish you good luck again.

Oh my God! He's texting me. I text ANNA:

ISABELLA: Michael just texted me!

ANNA: Fuck Off! What did he say?

ISABELLA: He wished me luck at the doctor's office.

ANNA: What did you write back?

ISABELLA: I didn't.

ANNA: Why not? Write him back!

ISABELLA: Ok.

I flip over to him:

ISABELLA: Thanks.

MICHAEL: Can I see you after your appointment?

ISABELLA: Sure!

MICHAEL: Text when you are done.

ISABELLA: Ok.

Then I go back to ANNA:

ISABELLA: He wants to see me after my appointment!

ANNA: Fuck Off!

ISABELLA: Vulgar!

ANNA: & jealous.

ISABELLA: Don't be jealous. I must go in now.

Dr. Frank is our family doctor who must be in his late fifties early sixties. He has buzzed grey hair and a stocky build but gives a whole new meaning to the word compassion. Once we're in his office, the appointment takes just over twenty minutes from start to finish. He diagnoses me with a torn hamstring muscle and says that judging by the story, I must have injured it on the take-off of the jump, the action of throwing my leg forward into the air.

Doctor Frank insists I start physiotherapy immediately and stay off the ice for two more weeks.

"Two more weeks!" I complain. I miss so much now, and I think for sure Dr. Frank is going to give me the green light. I hardly feel any pain when he is maneuvering my leg into various positions. He finishes off the appointment by warning me, "This can be the end of your career. We'll have to see how it goes." I never thought I would hear those words come from his mouth. It's upsetting to hear, but I don't want to fall apart in front of him and my mother. I keep myself together and stay quiet the entire way home. When we pull into our driveway, I fish my phone out of my purse and slowly go up the stairs. I text Anna first:

ISABELLA: I have a pulled hamstring. My competitive skating might be over.

ANNA: Keep your chin up! No way that'll stop you.

ISABELLA: Michael wants to see me. I'll tell you how it goes.

ANNA: Text Me!

I flip to my old text with Michael:

ISABELLA: I'm home.

MICHAEL: I'm picking you up.

ISABELLA: Sure, text when you are in the driveway.

MICHAEL: okay.

I know this won't going to go over well, I call downstairs, "Mom, I'm going out with Michael, AS FRIENDS."

Mom doesn't answer back for a minute, "This is going to stop when you start skating again."

I take my long brown hair and pull it back into a tight ponytail. My blue eyes appear baggy, so I try desperately to conceal them with concealer, but I have no luck. I finish myself off with lip gloss and perfume, wanting to get outside before mom has a chance to embarrass me.