Dead But Alive

chapter twelve: bad to worse

I go to bed that night with frustration whirling in my head, and when I wake up it's still there. It's 4:30, when I normally head to early practice. But I'm not going.
It feels strange to silence the alarm, roll over and ignore it. But even though I don't have to get up, I don't fall asleep until 6:00.
At seven, I get up. I throw on jeans and a T-shirt, and I warm up leftover oatmeal, all of which feels foreign to my clumsy swimmer hands. When I leave the house, my backpack feels light without my swim gear in it. My hands feel empty without my waterbottle. And I feel off not having wet hair.
When I get to school, I'm earlier than normal because I didn't have practice. Non-swimmer kids come up to me, curious. "Hey Ridley, how come you're so early?"
"I didn't have practice," I say, brushing them off.
"Well, where's Symon?" another kid asks.
"Not here," I say, looking everywhere but at them.
"Is he at practice?" a third boy sneers, getting up in my face. "Did you skip? Coach is gonna be really angry that his star athlete is playing hooky. But he'll never know, will he?"
The second kid snickers. "Or will he?"
"I'm settled with Coach," I say, turning away. "We're cool. Tell him if you want. He already knows."
Third boy rolls his eyes. "More lies," he says, which irritates me but doesn't really get under my skin because I am telling the truth.
"You planning on going back anytime soon, Ridley?" the first one asks.
I shrug. "None of your beeswax."
He laughs, a faked laugh with a cruel undertone. "Make up your mind, would you, Ridley? Maybe we should help him out a little. Make the decision for him." He steps closer, his hot breath on my face. "What would you think of that, Ridley?"
I don't know what to say. I've never been bullied before. I'm not that much smaller, but I don't have the bloodlust that he does. I could take him down if I had to, but I am afraid to hurt someone else.
Unlike him.
He grabs my wrist, twists it behind my back. "You'd have a great stroke with a broken arm," he says, laughing in my face. "You'd probably set some new records. Reid Ridley, the one-armed backstroke champion. Has a ring to it."
"Stop it, Quinn," I say, recovering my brain and realizing I need to at least try to solve this problem. I was taken by surprise. Didn't know Quinn and his pack were jealous enough to hurt me. Didn't know they had a problem with me at all.
"Stop it, he says." Quinn cackles. "That's a laugh. Does he think he's in charge of us?" He adds pressure to my arm, his fingers digging painfully into my skin. He bends further, and pain shoots from my shoulder to my fingertips. I let out a gasp. "Quinn! Leave me alone!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, am I bothering you?" he taunts in a simpering tone. "Too bad, Ridley! Life doesn't always go your way!" He leans on my arm, pressing my elbow against my back. I scream, unable to keep it in. The pain is excruciating. I try to twist free, but he pushes harder, then jerks my whole arm. Something in my elbow snaps, and I cry out, knowing he's broken it. He releases me, and I drop to the ground, tears of pain falling. I cradle my arm, my elbow broken and twisted the wrong way.
"Have fun at practice," Quinn jeers, and he and his henchmen leave.
And I am left helpless and broken, with no one around.
Minutes pass. The skin around my elbow starts to turn purple, and my forearm and hand feel dead and numb. I try to move my hand, and there's a popping and clicking noise from my bones, followed by extreme pain. I cry out again and freeze, pulling my arm into the only comfortable position.
"Reid?" A voice breaks into my painful haze. "You all right, buddy?"
I look up. It's Mr. Clark, my health teacher.
I burst into tears.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. What happened?" He kneels down and gently touches my arm, and I scream in agony​. Something's very, very wrong.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Reid." Mr. Clark stands. He's a doctor, so he knows what he's doing. "I will call in some help, and we'll get you fixed up, bud. Who did this to you? Was it Quinn?"
I can barely nod.
His eyes snap in anger. "That boy is a bully and a danger to society. Breaking your elbow, indeed! What did you ever do to him?"
His words and his face fade into a fuzzy blur.
I black out.