Page 77 of Near Miss

“I’m a surgeon. Transplant.” Greer smiles tightly. I can see it all over her now—after she told me all the ways she thinks she’s bad and broken. Trusted me with this insurmountable, heavy thing that weighs her down.

“Saves a lot of lives.” I jerk my chin towards her.

She rolls her eyes again, but there’s the ghost of a smile there.

“Did you go to medical school here in Toronto?” My mom asks, nearing one of her favourite topics: Nathaniel’s commitment to saving children like Sarah.

Greer nods. “I did.”

“Nathaniel went to med school in British Columbia.” Excitement lights her features, and she reaches out, placing a hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “Sarah went to teacher’s college in Ottawa, and Beckett—”

She pauses, and I think another football hits my chest.

I don’t think she remembers. Or at least, she doesn’t care enough to keep handy facts about me on the tip of her tongue.

Rolling my shoulders back, I try to smile but it feels weird, and even Nathaniel and Sarah look back and forth between our mother and me, like they’re about to answer for her.

But Greer’s voice comes first.

A beautiful, quiet rasp reciting facts about me. But she’s saying more than just that.

You’re real, Beckett.

“Syracuse,” Greer offers, eyes soft and on me. “He went to Syracuse. He studied history, and he specialized in the French Revolution. He finds Napoleon fascinating.”

“Oh.” My mother blinks, a smile forming. But there’s no recognition behind her eyes. “That’s right. I always just think about the kicking and it’s hard for me to remember anything before the league.”

Greer’s eyebrows lift and her mouth pulls into a taut smile. “His professional career is very impressive, too many broken records.”

Her eyes cut down to the pocket of her scrubs, and she pulls out her phone. She glances back up, and she’s not looking at anyone else when she says it. I know the words are just for me. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

“Sure.” I nod, absentmindedly rubbing my chest. It doesn’t feel like it did five minutes ago. “Go save lives.”

She raises a hand and she’s only halfway to the elevator when I pull out my phone. I can’t have her, not really, but I can’t help myself.

Beckett: Come over tonight?

Usually, I’m waiting for the three dots. But her answer comes in right away.

Greer: Sure. I’ll be there around eight.

I drop my phone back into my pocket, and when I glance back up, my brother and sister are staring at me too intently for my liking, and our mother has moved on to lamenting over the cookies being spread out on a nearby table.

I jerk my chin towards the line starting. “Come on, I don’t have a ton of time before practice, and I know you’ve been dying to stab me for years, Nathaniel.”

They both smile at me, the edges curled with relief that I’m not upset.

It’s not entirely an accurate assessment, but they’ve never really been able to tell much about me anyway.

The only person who really sees me just turned around and went back to the thing that holds her hostage, and I know when I step onto the field later, I’ll be doing the same.

Greer

Thisis my least favourite place in the hospital.

It’s the loudest.

The most chaotic.

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