Chapter 7

As far as Karen was concerned, the game was over. No one was going to stop her from going to the hospital along with Jesse.

“I have Easy’s car.” Kaziah volunteered transportation, since Karen and Alysia had gotten a ride with Mr. Holland, planning to go out with Jesse and Bill afterwards. “I’ll drive back over here and pick Easy up after I drop you off. He may want to go to the hospital himself.”

They weren’t far behind the ambulance. The scream of the siren cut through Karen’s numbness, stabbing her heart.

“Jesse will be all right, Karen,” Alysia hugged Karen close. “I know he will. He’s tough. He’s a fighter.”

Karen wished she could feel the same way. She wished she felt so confident. Her feelings were iced over, her mind frozen onto one thought. Jesse was hurt. She had to get there, be there for him.

Jesse’s mother had died when he was ten; his father had raised him since then. Mr. Goddard was pacing the floor in the emergency room when the girls burst in. Maybe he’d ridden in the ambulance.

Karen came alert enough to recognize him. “Mr. Goddard, is Jesse—what do you know?”

“He was unconscious all the way over here, Karen. They think it’s a head injury. They’re taking him right into surgery.” A gentle, loving man, Mr. Goddard circled Karen’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “All we can do is wait and pray.”

“I’m going back for Easy,” Kaziah told Karen.

“Find Bill, too. I’m going to stay here with Karen.” Alysia sat on the edge of a sterile-looking plastic couch in the waiting room.

No way could Karen sit down. She walked up and down the hall, inhaling the smell of cigarette smoke mixed with antiseptic. Anxious people huddled in little groups whispering. Hers weren’t the only fears filling the air.

The more she came out of her numbness, the more she hurt. Shock had protected her for an hour. She knew a lot of kids were here, waiting as she was. It surprised her to see Professor McArthur and his wife in the waiting room. He nodded at her, and she nodded back. She knew Mr. Goddard still kept his vigil, but she couldn’t talk to anyone. She had to keep to herself. Only by herself could she stay strong, keep her control.

Time was giving her some hope. If Jesse was still alive, he might make it. She knew the injury was serious. They wouldn’t have rushed him into surgery otherwise.

When he came out of the operating room and was put in intensive care, the doctor said Mr. Goddard and Karen could go in. They suggested everyone else go home. There was nothing they could do, and it was going to be a long night. Jesse was on his own now.

“Thanks for letting me stay, Mr. Goddard.” Karen accepted the cup of coffee Jesse’s dad handed her.

“Jesse will want you here when he wakes up, Karen, so I told the nurses you were family. Otherwise they’d have made you stay in the waiting room. I don’t know if he ever told you, but you mean a lot to Jesse. He loves you very much.”

“I love Jesse, Mr. Goddard. I haven’t gotten to know you very well, but I can see how he came to be so gentle and loving. I know you two are very close.”

“He’s all I have.” Mr. Goddard slumped into a chair and put his head in his hands.

Karen couldn’t think of anything to say to comfort him. She took a chair and pulled it up beside Jesse. He looked so helpless. He was all hooked up to tubes and bottles, his head wrapped in gauze, his face so pale. Why had she never noticed how long his eyelashes were? Because they were so blond, she guessed, as light as his hair.

Putting her head down on the sheets, she dozed a little. When she’d jerk awake, she’d feel guilty, but then she’d nod off again. Sometime in the night, Jesse stirred a little. A nurse came in, checked him, smiled at Karen, and disappeared, saying, “I’m sure your brother will be all right now. It just takes time.”

Karen smiled at the idea of her being Jesse’s sister. She kept hold of his hand. When he came to, she’d know it. He stirred again around two o’clock. She felt it immediately and came alert. His green eyes were on her. A faint smile played over his lips.

“Jesse,” she whispered and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, then closed his eyes and slept.

She was able to cry at last. And when she had rid herself of fear by doing so, she slept again, still with her head on the cool sheets, her hair brushing Jesse’s leg under the covers.

He was reaching out to her. “Karen, I need you. Help me.” “I’m here.” She is stretching her hand to take his, but he backs away.

He pulls back the football, looking for her. He’ll pass her the ball. She has to run, take the ball and run for her life, run for Jesse’s life. This means so much to Jesse, this touchdown.

“Right here, Jesse, don’t you see me?” Words freeze in her mouth. She keeps screaming at him, but the words won’t come out. He can’t see her.

Suddenly a stomping noise behind her makes her spin around. A huge pack of tigers roar, rush at her. But they stand on hind legs and are dressed in football uniforms and helmets. She cringes, ducks down, but they aren’t after her. They’re after Jesse.

They leave her surrounded by dust. Through the haze, she can see Jesse trying to escape them. She watches him drop back, sidestep, weave this way and that. But there are too many of the tigers.

They roar and leap. She hears the sharp crack as they collide with Jesse. His body will never survive such a blow, she knows. He is doomed.

Taking off their helmets, the tigers beat Jesse. Over and over they pound with the heavy headgear, designed to protect, now used to kill.

Their leader, a tiger so dark he almost looks black, deals the final blow. Raising his helmet, which is solid ebony, he brings it down over Jesse’s head. She covers her ears, but she still hears the crack, like a sudden thunder clap.

Jesse’s head breaks into tiny pieces, like crisp bits of eggshell. The sharp, brittle shards fall to the ground, with musical tinkling sounds as they hit, like particles of ice falling from tree limbs after a storm.

The rest of his body follows. Soon he is a pile of dust at her feet. A football helmet sits atop the dust, like a marker. She looks up, sure some of the spectators saw what happened, sure they will come and help Jesse. Help her.

But they are on the field alone.

Her screaming woke her. Two nurses flew into the room at the same time, like swooping white eagles. They lit next to Jesse and thumped on his chest.

Karen backed up against one wall, placing her hands on it for support. A young doctor followed the nurses. They worked together, their highly starched uniforms cracking, hooking up more machines to Jesse.

Finally the medical team grew silent. They stopped shouting the strange medical phrases that would magically revive Jesse. Stopped talking about codes and injections of miracle drugs.

No one had to tell Karen what had happened. And before they could, she fled from the room. Ran down the hall and smack into Kerr’s arms.

He stopped her escape and held her close. “I’m sorry, Karen, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“He’s dead, Jesse’s dead. He can’t be dead, Kerr. He can’t be, but he is. I dreamed it. I saw it all.”

“I know, Karen. It’s all right. You’ll be all right.”

“No, I won’t, I’ll never be all right. Don’t you understand? Jesse is dead.” She pounded on his chest, fought him. He tried to control her.

“There was nothing you could do. You couldn’t help him.”

“I tried. I wanted to. I just stood there. They killed him.” Her knees folded. Kerr supported her.

“It was an accident, Karen. An accident.” Kerr kissed the top of her head and hugged her even closer. “I’m going to take you home, Karen. Do you hear me? I’m taking you home.”

“I can’t leave Jesse here.” She reached out for Jesse, wanting to hold him.

“You have to, Karen. We’re going home.”

The fog, the swirl of dust surrounded Karen again. She allowed Kerr to put on her coat and lead her out of the hospital. A blast of cold air hit her as they left the building and walked to the parking lot. But Karen didn’t feel she could get any colder, so it didn’t matter.

Kerr tucked her into the passenger seat of his Jeep. He wrapped a car robe around her, buckling the seat belt over it.

Karen bobbed back and forth a little, and sideways as they crunched patches of ice or lumps of snow that had thawed during the day and hardened with darkness.

The Jeep stopped. They must be home. Karen waited for Kerr to come and get her.

He unbuckled the belt and reached for the ice skates on the floor. He placed his hands on either side of her legs, turned her toward him. Tugging off her boots, he slipped each foot into a skate and laced the high-topped white shoes tightly. He put on his own skates, then lifted her down, into a drift of snow.

He led her across the short stretch of woods, through the dark trees that reached for her with bony limbs. He bent, slid under a low fence, reached over and lifted her as if she were a paper doll.

Taking her hand, he pulled her alongside him, their skates rasping over the ice. It was bumpy this far from the rink, but soon they reached the well-groomed ice, polished by hundreds of skaters the day before.

Soon they were flying over the silver skin, stretched taut over the dark water. Karen’s cap flew off and her hair streamed out behind her. Kerr’s hands captured both of hers, kept her steps matched to his. Around and around they glided, blades scraping in a silky rhythm.

On one level, Karen was aware of moving, aware of the crisp cold, the sharp wind biting into her skin where it was bare. She drew strength from her twin, let him guide her, become her shadow as they skated. On another level of her mind, she welcomed the numbness that protected her, iced her heart, made her a part of the frozen moonscape.