"Dylan we have been here for almost a month and all you have done is sit in your room. School starts in three days!" My mom says angrily as she turns the light on in my room, yanks my blankets off of me, and throws open the curtain. It's true, ever since I had moved to Beverly Hills at the end of June I had stayed inside of our new house; besides the daily physical therapy appointments.
"What am I supposed to do? Hobble around everywhere on my crutches?" I ask yawning and I sit up.
"You need to take your medicine for your knee. It looks swollen," she says examining it and she hands me the pills and a cup of water from my night stand.
"Your father and I have decided something," she says sitting on the foot of my full sized bed.
"What is it? I can go back to gym?" I ask perking up a little bit. Have the doctors seen something on the latest MRI on my neck or knees?
"No," she says harshly cutting my happy thoughts off.
"Oh, then what is it?"
"We think you need to see a therapist. All you do is sit in your room and not talk to anyone. You barely eat anything and it's noticeable that you've lost weight," she says and I stiffen.
"No," I say flatly.
"You haven't even made any friends, Dylan. You can't be anti-social the entire year, you know. Think of this injury as a good thing. You can finally go to parties and hang out with your friends. You can have a boyfriend too. You've never had one before because of gymnastics," my mom says in a happy find that made we want to throw up.
I lean over and place my neck brace on my nightstand and I grab my knee braces off of it. I start to put the sleeve on first, then the part that supports my knee with metal, and finally the rubber part that also supports it.
I lean over even farther to grab my crutches and I get up with their support.
"Where are you going?" My mom asks.
"To physical therapy. I'll make friends with her," I say and head into my connected bathroom.
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My outfit for the first day of school would've been cute, but it wasn't considering I had to wear ugly, bulky black knee braces right below my denim shorts and tank top.
I carried my school bag on my back as I used my crutches to walk into the school. My left knee hurt every time I moved. Great, more doctors appointments.
My dad had dropped me off and then headed straight to work. My mom had left before I had even woken up for school.
People stared at me as I walked by. I couldn't find it in me to care. Yes I had crutches on. It's not like I have a disease or anything.
One girl stands out the most. Maybe because of how she looked. She has platinum blonde hair with brown roots showing and the makeup on her face is noticeable from the feet away. She wears a super short skirt with a white v-neck shirt that shows way too much. Her four inch hot pink spike heels make her look taller than most girls here.
"What a loser!" I hear her exclaim and the girls around her giggle and look at me up and down.
"What are those ugly things on her legs?" I hear one of them whisper.
YOU ARE READING
How he saved me.
Teen FictionAfter a devastating accident that ripped her from the sport she had been in since she was able to walk, Dylan Clark moves from her home in Texas to Beverly Hills. Hoping for a new start, things don't go as planned. After a not-so-great start with t...
