Friday, 26 August, 22:30 GMT 13 years ago
"I could call you a taxi, you know that," he offered.
"The hotel is just five blocks over," she said as she patted her pocket that held her wallet. Oh, why had she not insisted that he stay with the rest of the boys? She would not be able to use the port key as she would have wanted.
She also silently chided herself for leaving her mobile in her hotel room. It had needed to charge. She closed her eyes for a moment. She wished she would have stayed back at the hotel room as well.
o-o-o
It took the team a long while to accept her as an equal. She had a keen sense of where everyone on the court was as she played at the point guard position. She passed the ball to the right spots for the best scoring opportunities. Her assist to turnover ratio was the highest in the league.
She loved breaking down the opponent's plays. Studying film became a growing interest. She looked forward to the weekly Wednesday film sessions after practice held at the Martinez residence.
Eventually, the team welcomed her into the inner circle. She actually enjoyed taking part in team activities. Coach Martinez was always partial to volunteering the group for community service; whether it be volunteering at the city shelters, food pantries or even at Saint Augustine's Hospital. It seemed that Coach Martinez would always partner her up with his son.
She was unsure about herself around him at times. She had always had feelings for him, but she knew he probably would never feel the same way about her. She was okay with serving as a sounding board for him. She patiently listened to his academic and social issues; whether it be science difficulties or girlfriend number seven issues, although she could feel her heart sink every time.
Phillip was the one that suggested she play in the summer league. Drew was hesitant at first. But if Phil had the confidence in her, she thought she would give it go.
o-o-o
Friday, 26 August, 22:35 GMT 13 years ago
Drew turned down a narrow alley before Phillip realized it. "What the hell," he said aloud. "Why'd we go through here?"
"Short cut. This will take us one block away from the hotel," she said a little uneasily.
She gasped. He wondered what was going on in her head when he saw the figure himself.
The hooded figure stepped out of the shadows. His hood fell off, revealing a young man in his twenties, clean shaven, and a tattooed bald head.
Drew recognized the mark on the inner part of the young man's left forearm. She extended her left arm, keeping Phillip at bay. "We don't want any trouble," she said, looking straight at the young man as he fisted the dagger in his left hand; the tattoo of the hooded cobra engulfed the back of his right hand. "We'll go on our way."
The tattooed young man narrowed his eyes at the couple and without warning, lunged forward. Drew gasped as Phillip stepped in front of her. He whimpered and crumpled to the ground as their assailant had sliced through the basketball player's abdomen.
Drew started to scream for help as she backed up against the brick wall. The bald young man panicked as blood dripped from the magical dagger. He backed away and started to run down the alley before he disappeared with a pop.
Drew, in tears, turned to Phil. She saw the blood spilling from his abdomen. She knelt next to him.
"You have to go to the street to flag down some help, Drew," Phil said taking in small breaths.
"Oh, God, Phil," she said as she touched his shirt. She looked into his eyes, "Do you trust me?"
"Yeah," he said. "Go get some help."
She tore his shirt open. She touched his chest.
"What the hell are you doing?" He asked, "You're wasting time. Go get some fucking help."
She ran her hands over his wound and then placed her fingers in his abdomen. She looked at him as she could feel a cold sweat start to course over her own skin. Her hands worked nimbly in his abdominal cavity; his intestines were severed and she had to work fast to heal the lacerations. She expelled the bile that flowed from the torn intestines from his abdomen. She made sure that all the internal wounds were healed, stopping all of his internal bleeding.
She pulled her hands slowly from his abdomen and then moved her hands over the laceration closing the wound. Her hands were dripping with plasma.
She looked up at him, her eyes glossy. She lost her balance and leaned against him. She couldn't keep her eyes open. Phillip stood up shakily.
"Drew," he shook her shoulder.
"I need to get home, Phil," she said looking up at him.
"I'm going to flag down some help," he said, making a move toward the street just as he felt her clutch at his pant leg.
"Please don't leave me, Phil," she said, barely conscious.
"Drew," he said harshly.
"I need a family photograph from my wallet," she gulped.
"You're going to be okay, Drew."
"Please," she looked into his face, pleadingly.
He hurried to where their attacker had dropped their wallets. He looked at his broken phone, the screen cracked where the would-be mugger had slammed his heel into it. He snuck a peek at Drew, who looked like she was growing paler by the minute.
He quickly pocketed the phone and his own wallet. He scanned her wallet for the family picture as he walked back to her. He pulled the photo from the plastic protector.
"Here," he said handing it to her. "I have to go get help."
"Please, Phil," she said as she grasped for the photo, making sure to take a hold of his hand. "Don't let go."
Phil wanted to scream at her. She was wasting time. He needed to get her out of the alley. Then something strange happened as he held onto her hand.
The wet ground of the alley gave way to the hardwood floor of the living room in the house in the London suburb of Chiswick.
"What the hell," the young man said as he looked at his new surroundings.
Drew was streaming in and out of consciousness. She could hear the clatter of her mother's dish and the Muggle-born witch's gasp. Drew knew, even in her semi-conscious state, that her Wizarding secret that she had kept was now out and a veil of anxiousness came over her.