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After the argument with Charlie, the only place I can think of to take out some of my frustrations is the indoor sports centre. Thankfully, Thursdays are our quiet nights and by the time I get there, the indoor netballers are just finishing up. I let Mick know that I’m there so he doesn’t lock up, grab one of the centre’s bats and head down to the court and switch on the bowling machine.
As I’m getting ready, my phone buzzes. It’s a number I don’t recognise, but I open the message anyway. It’s a video of Paris’s ball getting me out and Paris’s send off, with the message ‘My latest bunny’. It must be Paris. I delete the message and toss my phone into my bag.
I don’t bother setting the machine because I just want to hit balls, and hit them hard. I really don’t care about technique. I just need to feel the ball hitting the bat and seeing it smash into the back netting.
I can’t believe Charlie would cheat like she did, just to try to win a cricket match, but the ball that got me out was identical to the one Ashley’s been getting me with at training. Which reminds me that I need to work out what I’m going to say to Ashley next time I see her. I’m not sure how I’m meant to sleep in the same room as her since she’s betrayed me, and the team, like she did.
The machine buzzes to let me know the basket is empty, and I fill it up and go again. Mick jangles his keys at the end of the net, and I nod to let him know I’ve seen him. This will be my last run through before he locks up. I face up and prepare to take all my frustrations from the day out on each ball as it comes.
The first one fizzes through faster than I expect and it catches me on the top of my bat near the handle. The next one comes through a lot slower, and I mistime it, catching it on the toe of my bat and send it flying up in the air. I let out a yell of frustration. Then I grit my teeth and set myself again, focusing on the bowling machine.
The next couple of balls are slower ones and I just can’t time them right. That makes me angrier. I step away from the crease to let a few balls go, breathing deeply and trying to focus. I close my eyes, take one last breath and tell myself to just play the ball as it comes. I open my eyes, step across and face up. The machine beeps to let me know the next ball is coming. I glance down at the crease, tap my bat a couple of times and look up just in time to see the ball hurtling towards my head. I can’t get out of the way in time and it smashes me right on the badge of my helmet.
The next thing I know, Mick is leaning over me and the lights on the ceiling are moving.
“Hey, you’re awake. Scared me for a bit,” Mick says. He pats me on the shoulder.
“What happened?”
“You got sconed good and proper,” Mick replies. “Knocked you out cold.”
I try to sit up but a hand pushes on my shoulder. It’s then that I realise that I’m on a stretcher, and as I’m wheeled outside, I catch a glimpse of Jazz’s face but before I can say anything, the doors of the ambulance are closed.
***
“Probably a mild concussion,” the doctor explains to Dad. Jazz is standing in the corner, her arms crossed, talking to Karen. I can’t read the expression on Jazz’s face, but she’s giving off real disappointment vibes.
I have a bit of a headache, but other than that, I feel fine, so I don’t know what they’re all worried about.
“I’ll discharge her soon, but you’ll need to keep an eye on her,” the doctor says.
“Will she be okay to play tomorrow?” Karen asks.
“I’m fine,” I say, sitting up, and they all look at me, but the doctor shakes his head.
“No,” the doctor replies. “She’s not showing any symptoms right now but that could change over the next twenty-four hours.”
Mum peeks in through the curtain and then bursts through, coming straight to my side. “What’s the verdict?” she asks, as she turns my face in her hands and pulls my eyelids down to look into my eyes. Typical nurse.
“Possible concussion,” the doctor says again.
“Are you keeping her in overnight?” Mum asks.
“I’m happy for her to go home if she’s got someone who can check on her regularly.”
“I can do that,” Mum says. “I’m a nurse so she’ll be fine.”
“But what about the team?” I ask.
“You should stay at home tonight,” Karen says. “We’ll catch up with you tomorrow and make a decision then.”
“I’m fine,” I say. I look at Mum. “I cop worse from Adam. I can play tomorrow.”
Mum shakes her head. “Not happening, Alice.” She turns to the doctor. “Can we take her home?”
“We just need some paperwork finalised and then I’m happy to let her go,” the doctor replies.
“We’ll be back in a minute,” Mum says. She and Dad disappear around the curtain, leaving Karen and Jazz with me.
“I’ll check in with your Mum tomorrow morning,” Karen says. “But as of now, no training until you get the all clear.”
It’s not what I want to hear, but I nod. Karen says goodbye to Jazz and leaves, and it’s just me and Jazz. She hasn’t said anything at all, which makes me a little worried.
She shakes her head and sighs. “Mick told you about the machine,” she says quietly. “Why were you using it?”
“How do you know Karen?” I ask, avoiding Jazz’s question.
“We played together when we were your age,” Jazz replies. “Why were you training so late?”
I look away. “I needed more practice.” It’s a lie, and from the look on Jazz’s face, she knows it. “I don’t even know why you’re here.”
“Mick was worried about you,” Jazz replies. “He called me straight after he called your parents and the ambulance.”
I don’t reply.
“You could’ve been seriously injured, Alice. You could have jeopardised your future.”
“Why do you care? You’re going to go off coaching a Super League team,” I reply, not hiding my anger. I still can’t believe she didn’t tell me.
“You need to rest,” Jazz replies. She pushes herself off the wall.
“You’re not my coach,” I say.
Jazz uncrosses her arms and takes a step forward, but before she can say anything more, Mum and Dad are back, and we’re heading home.