Four Words

Chapter 5

How long had it been since Coach had ordered me to retrieve the ball? 5 minutes? 10 minutes?

Would anyone come to my rescue? Or would they forget I'd even come to practice?

I looked down at my hand. The bleeding had stopped pretty fast, but there was still grime caked around the open wound. Add that to the fact that a rusty nail in a drain had caused the scratch, and you had a potential infection.

"When injured, the first priority is to ensure the wound remains clean to prevent infection."

Screw that. I imagined cute little bacteria armies swimming around in my blood, going for a roller coaster ride around my body.

I shuddered. Not cute.

I tried the crab-crawling method again but had only gone a little way up before the cut on my hand stung like hell and I dropped back down the shaft, carefully.

"It's the tiny injuries that hurt the most - sharp and stinging little cuts..."

First sign of claustrophobia closing in on me - hearing voices in my head. Of course, I could simply exit the shaft to the main drain tunnel but the mere thought of standing in the murky, tepid waters sent a shiver up my spine. Like, literally.

"Hey, Pheebs. Need a hand?"

I glanced up and saw WY looking down at me, hand outstretched. My saviour. I grinned. "Yeah, sure," I said, holding up my injured arm.

WY saw the irony and laughed. "Come on, let's get you outta there. You need to have the cut looked at."

~♧☆¤☆♧~

I tried to choke back a scream as the nurse swabbed my arm with antiseptic solution. The cut on my forearm stung like hell and it was all I could do to not shrink away.

"Is the cut deep, nurse?" WY asked, concern ringing in her voice.

"Not really, dear. I just need to clean it and bandage it up."

The nurse was one of those grandmotherly types that seemed to have lived for an eternity and yet was still young at heart and spritely. She had the type of personality that made you warm to her easily. Which I would, if she hadn't been slathering all sorts of ointments and stuff that stung so sharply it brought tears to my eyes.

"Mmmmfff." I groaned. My jaw ached from clenching it shut around my shirt. I watched as the nurse produced a bandage from nowhere and began winding it around my arm.

"All done, sweetie." The nurse patted me on my shoulder, stood up and turned away.

I groaned in relief and got up to leave.

"Where are you going, dearie? I'm not finished with you yet."

"But didn't you say..."

"I was talking about the bandaging, my dear. Now, didn't your friend here," the nurse pointed at WY, "say that this nasty cut was caused by a rusty nail? In a storm drain?"

I nodded.

"Well then, when was your last tetanus shot?"

I shrugged. "But nurse... I thought that a rusty nail doesn't always result in tetanus?"

The nurse gave me a sympathetic look. "Yes, that's quite true, it's actually the dirt on the nail that causes tetanus, not rust itself. Especially soil too, because it's rich in bacteria Clostridium tetani. And because this nail was in embedded in the walls of a storm drain, I'd say it would have come into contact with lots of muddy water, wouldn't you?"

I nodded again, a sinking feeling in my stomach.

The nurse flashed me a killer smile. "And since you can't remember when your last tetanus shot was, I have to give you one. Just in case."

What a nice way to kick off the new year.

~♧☆¤☆♧~

Three hours later I was home, shovelling leftover mac and cheese down my throat. My parents were sitting on either side of me, eyes on my bandaged right arm. They had looks on their faces that ranged from ohmygod what did you do to young lady, you are so grounded.

I finally broke the sharp silence. "Can you please say something instead of staring at me?"

Dad replied first. "First question: What the hell happened?"

"I just scratched myself. The cut's not deep."

I'd decided not to tell them about my tetanus shot. Luckily the injection site was hidden by my shirt sleeve.

I stood up and brought my plate and cup to the kitchen sink.

My parents were still looking at me when I emerged from the kitchen.

"No softball for you this week."

"Dad! I can't skip training for a week!"

"Look at you - your arm. I'm sure your coach will understand if you miss one training."

I glared at my father. "Of course he will, but I'm going on my own accord. If I can't throw, I can do other things. Maybe some weights for my left arm. Or agility drills. Or..."

"Okay, fine, fine. Now go do your homework." Mum finally spoke up.

I headed off to my room.

"Quite the little warrior, isn't she?" Dad chuckled.

Mum could only smile.