Page 176 of Chasing Headlines

“Grow a pair, junior. Besides, I have an in with the sheriff, so go on, report that you were beaten up by a frail old lady.”

“Let's not hit people,” the doctor said. “I'd hate to take away something essential.” He held up Dotty’s cane. “Wait, did you buy this in the gift shop?”

“No.” Dotty pulled it back into her arms.

The doctor looked at her over the top of his glasses. “It still has a tag.”

I bit back a groan. I needed a way out of here.

“Hey, hey! Look at that. The runner up candidate for MVP has rejoined the living.” Jimenez made some wild gesture toward me.

I considered whether I could borrow Dotty's cane.Get me out of here.

Fendleman grabbed Jimenez around the neck and put him in a headlock. “You're all mouth and legs. Gonna tell coach you need to run more laps.”

“Everything ok?” Spiked hair dude fist-bumped Fendleman.

“Thanks for helping out with the hardheaded fish, there, Lee.” Fendleman nodded in my direction.

“Thought his head wasn't hard enough.” Sender glanced at me and shrugged.

I flipped him off. The guy had the nerve to smirk. He took a seat at the end of my bed, and started talking like we'd been in the middle of a conversation.

“Rem filled out the paperwork and submitted it to the college. She said to get a copy of the doctor's report so she can add it to your file.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“She drafted a new concussion protocol plan. She'll have it for you Monday when you check in. Good thing you don't have any games for a few months.”

Eberhardt moved to my bedside. “Jimenez, go grab Dotty a chair, please.” He called out over his shoulder.

“On it.” He bounded out the door.

“How you feeling?” Eberhardt placed his hand on my shoulder.

“I just want to go back to the dorm and sleep.”And if I'm lucky, I'll get to finish my dream about that girl . . .

“Not until you're cleared to leave under appropriate supervision. We had to file an incident report with the NCAA. Schorr attempted to notify your dad.”

I closed my eyes and waited for some emotion to bite or sting, but my insides were some kind of whirling storm off in the distance. “Doesn't matter. I’m eighteen and he kicked me out.”

Eberhardt's fingers tightened on my upper arm. “Father-son relationships are always complicated at this age. But?—”

“Mine’s not. He’s out of my life.” I wouldn't look at Coach. “Pretty simple, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, sure.” He let out a long breath. “At a minimum, you'll need to update your emergency contact info.”

Sender crossed his arms. He'd apparently returned to standing at the end of the bed. “If only it was that easy.”

Oh, right. He said his father's a major asshole.Someone pounded on the door. Eberhardt moved to open it.

“Your coach seems annoyed.” Sender spoke in a low voice. “But your dad’s not coming. Is he?”

“No chance.”

“Mine wouldn’t either. Would just tell me to suck it up—or call me a child. Or both.”

“Sounds about right.”

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