Romeo and Juliet

24-E-

Unfair Game

"Departure is set for Friday at seven in the evening, with an overnight journey leading us to Saturday's dawn. We'll nestle into the hotel, steal a few hours of rest before the games commence. You got that, girls?"

Melissa perches on the bench, a picture of dejection, as Frank's words fill the air. Her absence is a bittersweet relief; Julissa may not shine on the field, but Melissa's dependability is unmatched.

"Yes, sir," Julie and I respond, our voices harmonizing.

"Great. Today and tomorrow are for light-hearted play, no grueling drills or stress," Frank declares, his smile infectious.

The game unfolds in friendly competition until a sudden uproar from beyond the wall seizes our attention—the football team's domain. A knot of concern tightens within me.

"An accident," echoes a distant voice.

A silent consensus propels us toward the football field.

Romeo. Zed.

A silent prayer for their safety.

The late-hour crowd, a mix of students and athletes, converges on the field, drawn by curiosity.

"A broken leg," Mike's voice trembles with concern.

"Coach!" Zed's call pierces the air.

"The pain must be excruciating," Daniel mutters.

Elbowing through the throng, I finally glimpse the fallen figure. Zed lies there, eyes clenched, cradling his leg.

"Zed!" My heart lurches. His eyes flicker open, reflecting a torment that fractures my composure.

"Step aside, Lena," comes a stern directive.

"Zed, Darling."

"I'm alright, Lena. I'll pull through," he assures me, his gaze laden with a sorrow that splinters my heart anew. His dreams hinge on the game.

George and others lift him onto a stretcher, guiding him to a waiting vehicle. The crowd's shadow trails us, tears prickling at the edge of my vision.

"Will Zed recover?" I inquire, turning to George.

Why am I so emotional today? Something is wrong with me and I blame this on my father. His call was a surprise last night as he tried to convince me to attend his stupid wedding.

"It's merely a fracture. He'll heal," George reassures me.

"But his game..." I murmur, dread creeping in. As if he hadn't heard himself say it, he looks away. Fracture? 

"Not anytime soon," George finally meets my gaze, "perhaps never."

I catch my breath.

"Stay hopeful," he advises before climbing into the car.

The coach's voice follows, firm and clear. "Everyone, head home."

Anger, worry, and sorrow mingle within me for Zed. He is such a good boy, I don't believe he deserves this.

"Who's responsible?" I demand, facing the remaining players.

"Lena, please, calm down," Mike's grip is gentle on my arm.

I glance at his hand.

"Don't ask me to calm down. Zed's chances for regionals, nationals, they're all in jeopardy. Who did this?"

Silence answers me, and frustration wells up.

Romeo lingers at the crowd's edge, his gaze averted, still upset from earlier.

"Who did this?" My voice rises in fury. "You can't fathom the agony of a shattered dream."

No response.

"Lena, we can't be sure yet. Let's not cast blame without knowing the full story," Mike counsels.

He's right. The future is uncertain, but should the worst come to pass, the culprit will face my fury.

With a resigned sigh, I seek out George for the hospital's location and set off.

*****