Senseless

that Saturday

Over the days, I did my best at practicing to walk and stuff. It was hard because I couldn't put any weight on my leg without collapsing, but I became a professional hopper. The bruises were going away, and the stitches would dissolve in no time. During practices, Coach let me work out what I could, which wasn't much. I was told that cracked ribs healed faster than other bones, so it wouldn't be too long before I'd be able to do ab work again.

Which was good, because I had a six pack and wanted to keep it that way.

I managed to do one legged squats, which made my less strong leg slowly get stronger because I couldn't squat on the broken leg. It was my ankle that was broken, so I had a boot instead of a plastered cast, but they said it still wouldn't be smart to walk on it. It was the beginning of October when we were readying for our competitions. More conditioning and running, because some of the girls honestly had an embarrassing stamina.

"Will you devise a few workout routines for Monday?" Coach asked. It'd been around two weeks since the incident. "Make them tough."

"Alright," I said, smiling. I'd gone to the doctor to get crutches, because I hated the wheelchair. It did hurt a little, but I grew used to it. They said my ribs shouldn't take much longer to heal, and wouldn't give me much trouble once they were healed.

It was impossible for me to drive using my left leg, so I had a ride for most everything. I'd be in physical therapy as soon as I could do anything. Amber was taking me places.

"You know homecoming is next Friday," she said, smiling excitedly.

"Not going," I said. "Besides, it's super late this year."

"It kept getting put off because it was out of budget. Cheerleaders have to go."

"I'm not a cheerleader." I gave her a pointed look and she sighed. "Besides, this boot doesn't look good with anything."

"Leave it to me," she said with a grin. "We're going to my place now." I frowned as she pulled into her driveway and went in on my crutches.

Nash pretended the kiss hadn't happened. I couldn't even complain about it; I was humiliated. We didn't talk in school unless it was for a photography project. Jagger ignored me. Amber was really my only real friend. The only time Nash talked to me was in the Underground; I continued working there and he absolutely refused to leave my side. Anyone so much as looking at me earned a glare from him, which was slightly annoying but also reassuring.

We went into her garage and she looked at my boot. I'd been wearing dresses because taking the boot on and off was a major pain; I only did so for baths. I had to take baths and didn't feel clean after them. It was disgusting. She made me sit on the floor of her garage and retrieved a can of glossy, black spray paint.

"I don't know if you're allowed to do that," I said unsurely. She shrugged and shook it up. "I'll leave it on while you do it." As she worked, I watched the paint. It was getting on my leg, but I didn't care. It made me look like the piece of art I was.

I'm kidding. I felt like garbage.

But I'd become more skilled in makeup, considering I was using it to cover ugly scars after the cuts started healing. That was a plus. I watched enough eye shadow tutorials to know what to do about my eyes, which was also good.

"Perfect!" she said, admiring her work. I was wearing a shiny, black boot instead of an ugly gray one. Grinning, I stood and grabbed my crutches. "I heard Nash is throwing a party."

"Yep," I muttered. "What about it?"

"We're going," she said immediately. I hadn't told her about the kiss, which was surprising even to me. I didn't tell anybody and didn't plan on it. "Please? I hear his are the best."