Where We Used to Roam Jenn Bishop (red white royal blue TXT) 📖

the trainers were still squatting, huddled around him. Murmurs spread through the crowd. The knot in my stomach loosened the tiniest bit.

“Mom!” I croaked. And then I was right beside her as she hugged me close.

One of the trainers had his hand on Austin’s arm, trying to lift it, but not getting very far before Austin winced. Was something wrong with his shoulder? Was it broken? Can you break a shoulder?

Austin always talked away his aches and pains, said they were no big deal. But he cursed, his face twisting in pain, as one of the trainers popped his shoulder back into place. I couldn’t stop wincing, just watching all of it. Once the shoulder was in, though, his face calmed down, and that helped me calm down too. So did having Becca beside me. She was as quiet as I was, but that was okay. Sometimes there’s no right thing to say. Just being there is enough.

Soon Austin was up, walking off the field, the crowd cheering for him. The second-string quarterback ran out onto the field, a big smile on his face. Of course, this meant something different for him. He was going to get in the game now.

“Em.” When I turned around, they were right there too. Lucy, tugging at the little paws dangling from her fox hat. Kennedy, beside her, biting her lip.

“He’s going to be okay,” I told them, even though I didn’t know for sure.

CHAPTER FIVE

One of the team trainers offered to come with us to the emergency room at Mount Auburn Hospital, but Mom and Dad insisted they could take care of things from here, thank you.

Becca’s Bubbe met us at the hospital to take her home. Becca didn’t want to leave us, but her Bubbe insisted there was nothing she could do to help. They’d offered to let me stay the night at Becca’s, but I wanted to be here with my family.

Austin kept saying he was fine, he just needed a couple of Advil and some ice, that’s all the doctors were going to do anyway, but Mom said no way and Dad agreed.

We’d been sitting for half an hour and still nobody had called Austin’s name. Mom flipped through an old Runner’s World she’d brought in from the car, too fast to be reading any of the articles. Dad was on his phone, researching shoulder dislocations.

Austin’s phone vibrated and dinged as friends sent updates from the game. The score had tightened since we left.

I’d been in an emergency room only once before, two years ago, when Dad was in Florida covering a hurricane. Austin had been helping Mom make dinner when he cut his thumb on one of the sharp knives. He ended up needing only two stitches, but that was hard to tell because Mom had wrapped his hand up real good with a kitchen towel.

It felt scary that time, but I think only because Dad was so far away. Mom had assured me that Austin was going to be fine. These things happen all the time. Just a little accident. Nothing to get too bent out of shape over.

But no one was saying that now, and I couldn’t tell if that was because they didn’t want to make Austin upset, or because there was still a good chance this could end up okay. I’d watched enough sports with Dad to see that sometimes things could look really bad on the field, but then his favorite player would be back the next weekend.

I didn’t know what to think, only that Mom and Dad didn’t want to say anything until Austin had seen a doctor, so I kept my questions to myself. All I knew was, Austin seemed pretty much okay. Okay enough to be on his phone. And he wasn’t bleeding anywhere, so that had to be good, right?

A TV perched in the corner was running an episode of Dateline NBC about some twenty-year-old unsolved murder, but they didn’t put the sound on, so it was impossible to follow. It was more interesting to watch the other people who were waiting. A woman in her twenties who was there by herself, her legs crossed, one foot swinging in the air. A man trying to calm a toddler who kept wailing and wailing.

“Noooo!” Austin shouted out of the blue.

“What happened?” I asked.

Austin leaned forward, wincing for a moment. “We lost.”

Mom and Dad exchanged a nervous glance.

“I’m so sorry, A,” Dad said. “What was the final score?”

“Twenty-four to twenty-two.”

“So close,” I said.

“God, if I’d still been there, maybe—”

“Austin O’Malley?” A male nurse carrying a clipboard stepped into the waiting room.

Austin slowly stood up. Dad tried to help him, but Austin shooed him off.

“Can I come too?” I asked.

Mom put a hand on my knee as if to hold me in place. “Those ER rooms are tiny, hon. Let’s let Dad and Austin go in.” She added to my dad, “Holler if you need me. And take good notes, please.” They followed the nurse through the closed doors.

When Dateline ended and the local news came on, Austin and Dad still hadn’t come back out. I couldn’t stop yawning. Mom put her arm around me, and I nestled my head onto her shoulder, trying not to look at the strange stains on the carpet and wonder where they’d come from. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, Mom was talking on her phone.

“Oh, Dee. I don’t know. You know kids these days. He’s surely thinking there’s some quick fix, but nothing I’ve read online makes me think…”

It had to be Delia, her best friend from college who lived in Wyoming. Even though they sometimes didn’t see each other in person for a few years, they talked or texted nearly every day.

“I know. You’re right. Let the doctors do their work. No WebMD for me. Thanks, Dee. You’re the best. Ooh—here they are.”

Dad and Austin came out the double doors. Austin’s arm was in