Will O Wisp | YA Novella

Chapter 14: Staring Back

"That's not a needle," says Will, staring at Doctor Brayson with a deadpan look. "That's a miniature pole."

No matter, Will still nods when the doctor asks him whether he's completely sure about their decision. Even Coach Burnaby was heavily against it, but just like Ocean, he was no match for Will's stubbornness. Over face-cam, he shook his head in disapproval as the boy assured him that the procedure would go as planned. And even though Ocean was hovering like a worried cat over his shoulder, he had to believe it for himself. Maybe, if he gets rid of the logic—of the 50% chance—he could actually have some hope. Some optimism is needed, he thinks, especially when Ocean seems to be quivering from head to toe. Secondhand fear?

"Why are you so scared?" asks Will, while Doctor Brayson leaves the operation room to make the final preparations for the operation.

Ocean's glance at the doorway—where the doctor can enter the whitewashed, barely furnished cubicle at any time—brings about another sense of foreboding. "I'm scared for you, Will. Is that so hard to believe?"

"It's not hard to believe," says Will. "I'm sorry. If the operation fails you won't get to skate at Worlds. You were looking forward to it, weren't you? Going back to one of your favorite places—London."

Ocean takes hold of Will's hand, feeling more like an act of need than anything romantic. Suddenly, the fluorescent lights seem altogether blinding. "That's not it. I don't want to see you in bed for another six months. If you would just sit it out, everything would be fine in a month—or maybe two. This just proves that all your logic means nothing when it matters the most."

The last part is barely a whisper, but everything rings so clearly here—with no carpet or furniture to absorb any sound waves. Each syllable echoes in Will's mind, but if anything they make his decision seem all the more right. "I'm stubborn," says Will. "What can I say?"

"No more quad lutzes," says Ocean. "No matter what happens after this. They're too straining on you."

When Doctor Brayson reenters, bringing with him a sense of graveness—eyebrows drawn together, lips pressed in a straight line—Will finally allows himself to think of the worst outcome. It flashes through his mind once, the image of him in his bed, hands closed into his fists over his eyes, but he shakes his head twice and manages to dispel the thought for the most part.

"Beam me up, Brayson," says Will, glancing at the needle that Brayson handles with the utmost care.

Ocean's cheeks flush with a pink that almost looks coral under the artificial lights. "Oh my gosh, Will. And you say that you aren't funny."

"Can't believe you kids still know that reference," says Brayson.

And the doctor's dry humor echoes in Will's eardrums, as the needle is inserted into his knee, as his vision blurs and fades and he screams out at the most intense pain he's ever experienced—worst than all his most disasterous figure skating falls combined—as he keeps screaming while Ocean rests his head against his chest and murmurs something along the lines of keep breathing. Or was it keep steady? Keep pretty? All he knows for sure is that the needle, the miniature hollow pole that's supposed to heal him from the inside and give him back his physicality, burns and pierces like hell.

Will closes his eyes against his most determined efforts to stay floating. A hot breath against his neck is the sensation that sends him off into the most consuming sleep of his skating career.

⛸️⛸️⛸️

An image of his mother is what pulls him back from the dark, hovering right behind his eyelids as he makes the slow trek back to reality.

Beautiful, black hair slightly wavy. Deep brown eyes like his own, and that defined cupid's bow that was always so characteristic to her—it was even the first thing his father noticed when they met. When she smiles, Will knows immediately that it's a dream. The teeth are much too bright. Then he notices the same thing about the white in her eyes—the glow on her cheek—the diamond earrings that was a gift a year before she was murdered—for a reason still unknown—by a rogue gang in the state of Oahu.

"Mom?" says Will. Even though he knows that the illusion will break, and that he'll wake with Ocean somewhere nearby. They'll go to training soon... isn't the Olympics only a few months away? And what will happen in between, when they're already at each other's throats like wildcats with nothing to eat. His partner must have thrown something heavy across the room at him. How else would his right knee be humming with pain?

"It's just me," says Ocean. Will opens his eyes, and the boy looks more concerned than before their first Grand Prix, all sweat on his brow and jaw clenched like superglue was painted between his teeth. The recollection of the past few weeks, comes rushing like a parade in his mind. "Close enough. At least you didn't think I was... um...."

"A monster?" asks Will, more because he could believe that the devil himself took a chomp on his knee.

"No, never mind." The burning question, the elephant, hovers between them as Will checks out the hospital room, identical to where the operation took place if not for the bed and the medical equipment hovering on a stand beside it. It's just as suffocating. "Anyway," his partner continues. "It's—"

"Just say it," says Will. Now it's his turn for his jaw to become locked, rigid like two puzzle pieces.

Ocean smiles ear to ear, and with that it's like the clouds part and the sun is magnified and the plaster walls all turn to clear glass—they could look out and see the world. All the possibilities staring back.

"You're healing. Doctor says you'll be able to test yourself on the ice tomorrow."