Darius the Great Deserves Better - Adib Khorram Page 0,23
couldn’t remember her ever using my first name before. “Can you talk?”
I swallowed away the burning taste of bile.
“Yeah,” I groaned.
“Can you move?”
I nodded.
“Can we take you off the field, or do you need to stay here a while? Do we need to call a doctor?”
“I’m okay,” I said. “I can get up.”
“I’ll help him,” Chip said. “It was an accident, Coach. Really.”
“I know,” she said. “Why don’t you get cleaned up, Darius? Do you need me to call your parents?”
“No. I mean, yeah. I’ll get cleaned up. You don’t need to call my parents.”
“All right. Cusumano, get him to the locker room and see if you can find Coach Steiner.”
Chip helped me up.
“I can walk,” I said.
“Okay.” Chip pulled my arm over his shoulder, anyway. His back was drenched with sweat, and he didn’t smell particularly nice, but I probably didn’t either. “Come on.”
* * *
Chip led me to my locker in silence.
The pain was starting to wear off, but a wave of nausea was replacing it, radiating out from somewhere deep behind my belly button. I leaned my head against the cool metal of my locker and closed my eyes.
“Hey, don’t fall asleep,” Chip said. “That’s how you die.”
“I think that’s concussions.”
I kept my eyes closed, but I could just picture Chip’s eternal grin.
“Well, I concussed your balls pretty bad.”
“Yeah.”
“For real, though. I’ll be right back. Will you be okay for a second?”
“Yeah.” I pulled away from my locker and took out my towel and soap. “I’m gonna shower off.”
“Okay, but if you see blood going down the drain, make sure to scream really loud.”
“Gross.”
I showered off as gently as I could. There was, mercifully, no blood. My testicles felt tender, and suddenly very precious, but whole.
I toweled off and padded back to my locker. I was stepping into my boxer briefs when I heard Chip’s voice coming around the corner.
“I got you an ice pack, in case you . . . oh.”
Chip and I stared at each other for a second.
I mean, we’d been in locker rooms together before, but I don’t think he’d ever seen me naked.
In that moment I felt very naked indeed.
Chip’s eyes darted downward.
“Huh,” he said, under his breath.
That nauseated feeling came back as I pulled my underwear the rest of the way up and turned away so he was looking at my back instead.
The air felt thick and weird.
Why was it so weird being around Chip? We were teammates, and friends.
I mean, other guys had seen me naked before. That’s what happened when you were on a soccer team.
Even my best friend, Sohrab, had seen me naked, when we played soccer together back in Iran.
But nothing had ever made me feel quite as sticky as when Chip looked at me and said “Huh.”
I tugged my joggers on, then my shirt, and ran a hand through my hair.
Behind me, Chip finally spoke.
“At least they’re not turning blue.”
Just like that, the tension vanished.
I snorted. It hurt to laugh.
“Not yet.”
Chip set the ice pack down on the bench. “You need water or anything? I can grab you some.”
“Um.”
He looked at me again, real quick.
I was certain he glanced down at my pants.
Just for a second.
“I’m okay. Thanks, though.”
What was happening?
TEUTONIC PUNCTUALITY
While Chip went to find Coach Steiner, I sat outside Coach Bentley’s office and iced my testicles.
Coach Steiner was Chapel Hill High School’s athletic trainer. Ostensibly he was in charge of monitoring the health and safety of Chapel Hill High School’s Student Athletes.
Go Chargers.
My pain had more or less gone away, as long as I didn’t move. Or cough. Or think.
As the team shuffled in at the end of practice, they lined up to fist-bump me one by one and express their condolences.
They actually said that: “Sorry for your loss.” One after another, Christian and Robby and Jaden and Jonny Without an H and all the guys said it, and by the time Gabe brought up the end of the line I was smiling and it didn’t hurt so much when I laughed.
“You okay, Kellner?” Coach said.
Now that I wasn’t prone on the grass, she was back to calling me by my last name, like coaches always do.
“Yeah.”
“What did Coach Steiner say?”
“I don’t know. Chip hasn’t come back yet.”
Coach Bentley’s nostrils flared.
Coach Steiner was supposed to be available to all the teams equally, but he always seemed to be with the football team, monitoring for potential concussions.
“I swear . . .” Coach Bentley began, but the door opened and Chip trudged back inside.