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“I’m sorry,” I croaked, crumpling. “I’m so, so sorry.”
The room went black.
When I opened my eyes, a circle of faces peered down at me. I was on my back. The stadium lights were so bright, shining between the faces above me, making it hard to see features. My head hurt like hell.
“Water,” someone said. A water bottle was shoved in my face, held to my lips. I struggled to sit up and someone eased me back down.
“Uh-uh.” It was Grace. “You stay there.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”
The crowd was noisy. Talking, yelling, the sounds magnified like the lights. I couldn’t tell what was happening, if the game was back in play. Water spilled over my lips and trickled into my mouth. I tried to slurp it up.
“Are the other girls okay?” I whispered. “Is Sydney okay?”
“Just concentrate on Christina for now, all right?” Kim, the head coach, peered at me. “My God, what were you thinking? You’re dizzy and feverish. Did you tellanyoneyou were sick?”
“I didn’t want to let you guys down,” I mumbled.
She shook her head.
The circle above me parted. Silhouetted against the lights, a mountain of a body appeared.
Palms cupped my cheeks. Fingers brushed my forehead, easing my headache.
“You all right?” a familiar voice asked, quiet and deep.
“I’m dreaming.” I managed a smile up at Patrick. His blue eyes were concerned. “This isn’t really happening. You’re not here at the game. You don’t like to have fun.”
Kim and Grace exchanged glances.
“Who’s this?” Kim frowned.
“A friend.” I closed my eyes.
“Don’t close your eyes,” someone said. “Stay awake, Christina.” I forced my eyes open.
“I can take her to Health Services.” Patrick’s words floated above me. “My car’s right outside.”
“Well…” Kim’s voice was doubtful, but I could tell she wanted the problem solved.
“It’s all right.” I touched her arm. “I’ll go with him.”
“Stan, do you think—” Kim turned to our trainer, who was hovering over me.
“She should go,” Stan said decisively. “I don’t think she’s concussed, but the symptoms can be delayed.” He turned to Patrick. “You’re okay getting her to the car without shaking her up?”
“Yes.”
“You know how to watch for signs of a concussion?”
“I do.”
Grace handed Patrick a card. “Here’s our numbers. Text to let us know how she’s doing.” She squeezed my shoulder. “We’re having a talk once you’re better. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Patrick cupped my face again. “You ready?”
