I walk home from hockey practice exhausted, dragging my bag behind me. I'm glad my hair covers the bruise on my jaw. I can't let my parents know I play hockey. My mom would be devastated and worry about me even more, and my dad… well, I don't want to think about what would happen if he found out.
It starts to rain, so I try to get home faster; I'm not a big fan of rain. I don't see a tree root in front of me, and I trip over it. I get up and brush myself off, only to grimace when I find out that it hurts to put weight on my ankle.
I pick up my bag and continue home anyway, limping now. I stumble a few times, and it starts raining harder. A small, yellow bird comes a few minutes later and starts flying around my head, chirping.
"Where'd you come from?" I ask it, momentarily distracted. While I watch the bird fly around my head, I put my weight on my injured ankle and fall.
"There you are Gilbird." I hear someone say before I'm caught. "You OK?" they ask, helping me stand up. I hold onto their shoulder, staying off my ankle.
"Y-yeah, I'm f-fine. Th-thanks for ca-catching me."
"You sure you're OK?" He looks down at my ankle, and I see the bird settle itself in his hair.
"Yeah. I-I'll be a-alright."
"Can you walk on it?"
"N-no, n-not r-really. But I c-can get to m-my house j-just f-fine." He looks skeptically at me, and then lets go of me. He grabs my bag up off the ground and gives it to me.
"If you say so." I nod, take my bag, and try to walk back home, but he catches me before I fall again. "Kesesesese, apparently you can't. Do you live far from here?"
"J-just a bl-block o-or so a-away."
"I live right here. How 'bout you stay here until the rain clears up?"
"I-I don't w-wanna be a-any tr-trouble."
"It's fine, I don't mind." He puts my arm over his shoulders and helps me walk over to his house. He brings me to a sofa and sits me down. "Take your shoe and sock off and get that foot up." he tells me as he puts my bag on the floor and leaves to another room. I take my shore and sock off and rest my foot on the table.
It looks worse than I thought. My ankle's a bit cut up and swollen, and it's twisted in a way it shouldn't be. Of course, it wasn't all from the fall; it got twisted during practice. I thought it had only been a bit, but I guess not.
"I don't think you'll be fine." The guy says as he comes back. "Want me to take you to the hospital?" he asks as he puts an ice pack on my ankle. He sits next to me. "Looks pretty bad to me."
"Hurts t-too. I-I guess you c-can t-take me to the h-hospital."
"OK." He picks me up, bridal style, getting me to blush a bit, and carries me to his car. He sits me in the passenger side, then gets in the driver's side. "I'm Gil by the way. The awesome Gil."
"M-matthew."
As we drive to the hospital, the rain turns into a thunderstorm. I hate them, and that must be evident to Gil since I jump when I hear thunder. The first few times he told me, "Don't worry. You're with the awesome me in my awesome car." After he realizes that doesn't help, he stops and we listen to the radio the rest of the time.
When we get to the hospital and get my foot x-rayed, they confirm that it's fractured. I get some medication, and when I'm fully aware of what's going on, I'm in a hospital bed with my foot elevated in a cast.
Gil's sitting next to me, and when he notices me looking at him, he points to my foot. "I know you told them it broke when you fell, but I don't buy it. How'd that happen?"
"I w-was c-coming back from th-the library, b-but I tr-tripped and f-fell down th-the steps."
"And you managed to break only your ankle?" I nod. "Then what's in your bag?"
"B-books."
"Didn't feel like books."
"W-well i-it is."
"Alright. If you say so."
A nurse comes in. She's the one who always take care of me when I come here, and we know each other well. She has a slightly sad smile. "Hi Matthew."
"Hey Sharon. What's the matter?"
"You're going to be fine, but you'll have to stay off it for a while."
"How l- long is a wh-while?"
"Look, don't be mad or depressed or anything, but a few weeks."
"But this S-saturday." I have a game.
"I know, but we can't do anything about it now. I'm sorry."
I sigh. "It's not your fault. I g-guess I'll h-have to tell them."
"It's all right. You guys will still win. You're the best team."
"Th-thanks."
A few hours later I'm in Gil's car again. The rain hasn't let up. I have crutches, and I'm devastated. No more hockey for a while.
"Matthew?" Gil asks after a few minutes.
"Y-yes?"
"What were you talking about there? What about Saturday?"
"N-nothing im-important."'
"You're not a good liar."
"N-nothing you w-would c-care a-about."
"Alright then." I nod. "Well, we'll get your bag from my house, then bring you home."
"O-OK." It's the last place I want to be, but if I said anything, he'd get suspicious.
A few minutes later, we're outside my house.
"You start heading up; I'll grab your bag." I nod and he helps me out of the car. I get to the door a bit unsteadily and cautiously open it. I start to go inside, but my dad comes out from the living room and hits me.
"It's nearly midnight! Where the hell have- who the hell is that?" I glance over my shoulder and see Gil standing there, staring at us with a look of shock.
"J-just a fr-friend fr-fr-" I get slapped.
"You don't have friends. Now who the hell is that?"
"S-someone I-I met a-at th-the l-libr-brary."
"And he has your bag because?"
"H-he's b-being n-nice th-thinking-"
"No one would be nice to you."
"I-I d-don't kn-know th-then."
"Whatever." He motions for Gil to come over, grabs my bag, and then throws it at me. "Put that in your room."
"Y-yes s-s-sir." I stumble up the stairs, trying not to fall. I get to my room, close and lock the door, throw my bag to the other side of the room, and fall back onto my bed. I start to go to sleep, but a few minutes later, I get a text.
Unknown: Matthew, r u ok?
Me: who r u?
Unknown: Gil. r u ok?
Me: how'd u get my #?
Gil: Al. r u ok?
Me: im fine
Gil: u didn't seem fine. u sure?
Me: positive
Gil: who hit u?
Me: …dad
Gil: y?
Me: i was late. i deserved it.
It takes him a minute to respond. Gil: whatever u did, u don't deserve 2 b treated that way
Me: when u do something wrong, u get punished
Gil: what the hell did u do that was so bad he does this?
Me: this time i was late
Gil: that's so unawesome. he shouldn't do that 2 u. no1 should do that 2 u.
Me: whatever, im used 2 it. dont tell anyone about it though. im serious. no one. night.
He texts me again, but I turn my phone off and go to sleep with my foot propped up.