Welcome to Reefside (editing in progress)

Recovery Time Part 1, - Back To School

Tracy's POV

I wake up Monday morning in the guest room at Mike's house. Our parents agreed that it would be a good idea for me to stay here since it's closer to the bus stop. I change into a ruffled pink t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts, the sling on my right arm a constant, awkward reminder of the pitch that ended my game. I leave the room and start walking down the hallway to the kitchen. I feel someone hug me from behind, and I turn to see Mike.

"Good morning, angel, how did you sleep?" Mike asks, his chin resting on my good shoulder.

"Good morning to you Mikey, and to answer your question I slept okay," I say.

"Why, angel? Bad dreams?" he asks, his voice soft.

I shake my head no. I tell him the pain in my elbow was driving me crazy all night. He loosens his hold, and we continue to the kitchen. We enter the room, and as Mike steps past me to get to the table, he accidentally bumps into my right upper arm. A sharp, jarring pain shoots through the injury, and I can't stop the wince.

"Ow, Mikey, careful," I say, instinctively cradling my arm closer to my body.

"Sorry, angel," Mike says, his face full of concern. "I didn't mean to."

"Tracy, you need to take your pain meds before school," Mr. Andrews says, looking up from his coffee.

"Isn't that a bad idea? It might make me loopy during class," I say.

"Tracy, Dr. Evans emailed the school to let them know," Mr. Andrews says.

"So, I'm getting permission to either say something odd or fall asleep in class?" I ask, only half-joking.

"Tracy, it's been two days, so the loopy effect from the pain meds should have waned since your body has adjusted to it, but it still may make you drowsy," Mr. Andrews explains.

Mike's mom, who has been listening while she cooks, turns from the stove. She has hooded blue eyes, fine, wavy, brown hair, and cream-colored skin.

"What would you like for breakfast?" Mrs. Andrews asks.

"Strawberry pancakes and strawberry banana smoothies, please," I answer.

"Got it. And what about you, Mike?" Mrs. Andrews says.

"I'll have blackberry pancakes, please?" Mike says.

"You got it, sweetie," Mrs. Andrews says.

After breakfast, Mike and I leave for school. We walk into the building, Mike carrying my backpack along with his own. We stop at our lockers before heading to class. We enter the room, and Devin and the others walk up.

"Hey Devin, you covered the softball game for the school news, right?" I ask.

"Yes," he answers.

"Did you tape anything before the game started?" I ask.

He nods. I ask if I can see it. He nods and gets out his laptop, setting it on the table. We gather around as he presses play. We watch the first five minutes of the video. I notice in the background, while Cassidy is interviewing the coach of the opposing team, someone walking towards the Northwood Ravens' dugout. It's Zoey, and she's talking to their pitcher, Miller.

"Can you zoom in on her?" I ask, my heart starting to pound.

He does, and we watch as Zoey gestures animatedly, a smirk on her face as she points directly towards home plate. She seems to be giving instructions, her expression smug and confident. The pitcher, Miller, looks uncomfortable but nods along anyway before Zoey pats her arm and walks away.