Our Sandbox

nineteen - piper

The game is tied. 

Throughout the game, Melissa's words were echoing: "Congratulations on your new relationship." 

Was she talking about Mike? Had he said something? Did I care? 

What the hell is happening to me? 

"Howard for the hand off, wait, he's faking, left, running, Howard is going for the full field run!" The announcer bellows through squeaky speakers, and my mind snaps out of my thoughts. 

I see Nolan, who is, indeed, running towards the end zone, dodging tackles left and right. 

Wow, he's fast. Despite his towering height, he moves like a speedy squirrel, swooping under arms and over legs with impossible accuracy. 

He's twenty yards away now...fifteen. The crowd is going absolutely insane, feet stamping rhythmically onto the metal bleachers, the mechanical hissing of old parts making it seem as if they're about to break. 

Nolan leaps forward for the end zone, and I'm already on my feet, screaming and cheering at the top of my lungs. 

And then the world stops, as he's smashed to the side by a defender. The crowd gasps, going silent. Even the cheerleaders drop their arms from the air, many of them placing hands in front of their mouths in shock. 

Nolan lays on the ground. He's not moving. 

Why isn't he moving? 

A few shouts from his teammates, waving their arms, signaling for help. 

My heart leaps into my chest, and before I can even think, I'm jumping down the crowded steps of the bleachers, my small converse squeaking slightly on each skip. I can hear my heart in my ears as I watch several medical assistants swarming Nolan, their shouts unintelligible. 

I'm finally at the fence separating the bleachers from the field, and I don't know what comes over me as I leap over it, racing over to the crowd. People shout after me, telling me to stop, but I don't care. 

I push my way through his teammates until I'm at Nolan's side. They've taken off his helmet, and thankfully his eyes are open, but they're scanning the air above him rapidly, as if he can't control his own vision. 

"Miss Reynolds, step back." I hear the coach behind me, as an arm clasps around my elbow, attempting to drag me back. 

"No! That's my best friend!" I shout, and he stares at me in surprise, not expecting my outburst.

"Fine, you can stay with him, but let the meds do their job." He relents. 

I feel wetness on my cheeks and I realize that I'm crying, and I swipe the salt trails away, not wanting to scare Nolan. 

I squat down next to him, grabbing his hand, which is laying at his side limply. It's massive compared to mine, but I squeeze it tightly, three times fast, like we used to do as kids during scary movies. 

It's Oh-Kay. 

One squeeze for each syllable. 

They've placed a neck brace around his neck now, and are moving him onto the stretcher, and as he moves, his grip on my hand tightens sharply, but I don't let go. 

"M'am, you need to let go." A medical assistant barks at me angrily. 

"No." I hear Nolan grunt weakly, and the medical assistant gives a sigh of relief at the sound of his voice. 

"You've got magic powers, Miss." He says, shrugging his shoulders. "We'll let you come into the ambulance with him, but in order for us to carry the stretcher, you need to let go."