HeadStrong

Injury & Assholes

"Well, maybe it was Adam's plan all alo-" something hard hits my head, and I fall to the ground.
"Kory!" I hear Lana, my best friend and fellow socialite, scream from her spot a few feet away from me. I can feel her rushing over to me, but I can't open my eyes.
I hear Coach's whistle blow, letting me knowing he saw whatever just happened. "Okay, okay. Move over. Let me see."
I moan, and move my hand to clutch my forehead.
Why does this happen to me? Another thing to have Aloma tease me about. I think.
"Maybe you should've been looking. You know, that's the point of playing frisbee." I hear somebody from the class say across the field, "And trust me, Aloma doesn't need another thing."
I hear Coach say something else, but I can't hear, I'm to horrified to know I said that all out loud.
"Come on Grant, it isn't even third period. Just catch the-" Coach stops, and then pauses. "Open your eyes, move your hand." He says, sounded bored.
At first, I squint, adjusting to the early morning light, even though I only had my eyes closed for a minute.
Then my eyes widen to see Coach kneeled over me, and my hand flys away from my head.
I mean, Coach isn't un-attractive, but as 57 year old men go, I'm only in it for the rich, not pudgy ones. Especially when Coach consistently wears a gold class ring from way to long ago, a green baseball hat to cover his balding head and a blue and white sweat suit that could stand to go a little higher up on the chest.
"Oh. That's should probably be checked out..." Coach says, as he gets off the grass of the football field.
I don't move, but he motions Lana over.
"Take her to the nurse. Come back though, you still need to dress back in." Coach orders her, pointing back to the gym.
I lean up some, and reach my hand up for Lana to pull me up.
She takes hold of my hand and grabs me, pulling me to the gym.
Once we get far enough and the others continue the game of frisbee, Lana starts to talk.
"You know, I heard this new kid from out of town is coming." She starts, obviously wanting me to continue with the story.
"Oh. Who does he know?" I ask. The only way you hear of new kids before they get here is if they know somebody, so I know this kid must have connections.
Lana doesn't say anything.
"Lana." I say as she opens the door to the gym we have now reached.
And then I see him.
I see my future husband, Mr. New Kid, standing next to Aloma Phillips, my life long enemy.