The Game Has Changed (2 page)

He felt the wet ground beneath him as he
collapsed onto his stomach once he was outside of the car. An
agonizing moan escaped him, piercing the quiet darkness around him.
Once his momentary bout of panic was over, he stopped and listened.
The only sounds he could hear was the soft rustle of the trees all
around him, a plinking of the much lighter rainfall across the car
beside him, and a faint popping and creaking coming from the car
itself.

He could feel blood oozing down the side of his
face. Reaching up to feel his forehead, he quickly discovered the
reason. A large gash menaced his features from the top of his left
eyebrow and almost all the way across.

This can't be happening!
he thought desperately.

Several long moments passed as he lay upon the
cold, wet ground. He forced himself to sit up, the pain suddenly
surging through him. He groaned and grasped his head with both
hands in an attempt to grapple with the intensity of the pain.
Despite the fact that he knew he was seriously injured, there was
no way he could present himself to a hospital. No way,
whatsoever.

There would most likely be an APB out for him.
Hospitals in the area would also be alerted. He wasn't exactly sure
how far from Manhattan he was now, but it felt as if he’d driven
for several hours already. Yet they would be looking for him,
none-the-less, across state lines. Of that, he was certain, for a
murder had been committed.

Evan pulled himself to his feet, groaning the
entire time, but he knew he couldn't stay there. The accident would
be discovered soon and the authorities probably knew the car’s make
and model by now. He had to walk and needed to get away as quickly
as possible. Where he would go didn't enter his mind at any given
moment, for he was much too confused to really contemplate the
situation he now found himself in.

CHAPTER 2

“I hate the way I look!” Jaime Johnson said
aloud to her reflection within the mirror as she brushed her
shoulder-length light blonde hair.

She stuck her tongue out at herself and then
sighed.
Maybe I should always do
that!
she thought as she stuck her tongue out again
and made various other faces at her mirrored image. Suddenly, her
bedroom door swung open. She turned quickly to see her Aunt Mary
standing in the doorway.

Mary had a pleasant and welcoming smile waiting
for her. “Almost ready for school? You don't want to be late on
your first day back.”

Jaime nodded, but looked glumly at her
aunt.

“Hey, it won't be so bad now,” she assured her,
hurrying over to her niece to envelope her within a tight hug.
“You’ve only missed a few weeks. The teachers promised to help you
get back up to speed.”

“I know,” Jaime sighed, “but I really need to
keep my grades up this last year of high school, if I want to make
it into an Ivy League like Daddy wanted . . . It will be harder now
that I've missed so much.”

“Well, you certainly had a good reason to miss
school, Sweetheart.”

Jaime sighed again. “Yes,” she agreed and
pulled away from her aunt to pick up her backpack. “I'll be down in
a minute.”

A look of pity emerged upon Mary’s face. “Okay.
Don’t take too long. I have breakfast waiting for you.”

“Thanks,” Jaime replied, watching her aunt
close the door behind her.

Standing in front of her dresser, Jaime stared
at the last remnants of her beloved late father that she possessed.
She noted the framed picture of the two of them together. It had
been taken just last summer, only a few weeks before he’d died
tragically in a car accident. Every time she looked at the photo,
tears stung her eyes. She was tired of crying, for she’d been doing
it non-stop for over a month now.

Her father, James Johnson, had been her only
parent. Her mother, Shawna, had left them when Jaime was a mere
five-years-old. She’d hated her mother's memory, because even as a
young child, she knew how hurt and devastated her father had been
for years after her mother deserted them.

Yet, he had been the most loving father Jaime
could have asked for. Though he‘d made a meager salary as a history
teacher at the very high school she attended, he’d tried very hard
to spoil his only daughter. He’d wanted the very best for her and
had done everything within his power to make sure she would have
both a good education and a bright future. He’d also worked a
second job during the off summer months that required him to
travel. It was during one of those jobs last August that a drunk
driver had robbed him of his life.

Now, approximately five weeks later, after an
agonizing mourning period, Jaime was going back to school. She had
missed the first three weeks of her senior classes, so it would be
hard for her to get back into the swing of things, but she was a
very determined young lady.

Before going downstairs for breakfast, she
picked up the cherished framed photo. Beside it was something else
she truly treasured more than anything in the world, a special
carved wooden box with a picture of a wolf on it. Her father had
brought it back for her during one of his business
trips.

She slowly opened it and peered inside to find
several postcards he’d sent to her from each of the places he’d
traveled to. The postcards were the most meaningful gifts of all
the ones he’d given her in the past because he had told her how
much he loved her on each one. After a moment's thought, Jaime
placed both the wooden box and the framed picture into her
backpack, zipped it up, and proceeded to head
downstairs.

***

“Are you sure you don't want me to drive you to
school today, Sweetheart?” Uncle George offered while sitting at
the breakfast table as Jaime finished up her meal.

Beside her sat her cousin, Trevor, whom was a
year behind her at the high school. Across from them was her
younger cousin, Timothy, a tow-headed twelve-year-old.

“No, that's okay, Uncle George.” Jaime finished
off her glass of orange juice and smiled. “I don't want to forget
how to drive.”

“You've had your license how long now?” he
returned, smiling proudly.

“Since my sixteenth birthday.” She giggled.
“How could you forget that? It’s been about a year and a half
now!”

“Ah, yes,” George laughed before a serious
expression fell upon his face.

He looked very much like his younger brother,
James, but his features were more severe and he had a stodgier
personality. Whereas Jaime's dad had been fun-loving and a little
wild, George was more stern and staid in his demeanor.

Jaime loved her uncle, but secretly hoped it
wouldn't be hard to live under his roof because of the differences
he possessed in child-rearing. Yet, she looked at the situation in
the most positive light. She would only be living with them until
she went off to college, so she supposed a few months wouldn't be
all that horrible. At the very least, they’d been there for her
when her father passed on. Thank God she had someone to turn
to!

Jaime observed her uncle, wondering why he’d
become so somber all of a sudden. Was the subject of her driving
making him remember how his brother's life had been
taken?

“What's wrong?” Mary asked, having also noticed
his change in temperament.

George didn't answer her. Instead, he turned
toward Jaime. “Just – just be very careful, okay?”

Jaime nodded, a sense of pity for him
overcoming her momentarily.

He reached out and touched her hand as it lay
upon the tabletop. “I promised him that I would take care of you,”
he whispered.

Jaime’s eyes stung with unshed tears. She
nodded and sniffed before she allowed any tears to escape. They
betrayed her anyway as several trickled down her cheeks.

***

Jaime stood beside the blue Acura, the car that
had belonged to her father. It hadn't been the one he was driving
when the accident had happened. His rental car had been totaled
when a drunk driver plowed into his while in Maryland. The Acura
had been their car for five years and he’d driven her to school in
it every day. It was via this car that he’d taught her to drive and
now it was hers. A sense of trepidation filled her as she climbed
inside, realizing that it would be the first time she’d driven it
since her father’s death.

Pulling into the school's parking lot, she sat
without moving for a long time, gazing at the large building
looming before her as her grief consumed her. Would she be able to
walk past the American History classroom that her father used to
teach in? Would she be able to keep the tears from flowing? Would
other kids be unsympathetic and ask her insensitive questions? How
on earth would she be able to cope?

Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders
and slid out of the car. Grabbing her backpack, she marched toward
the building, intent on making the best of the situation that she
now found herself in. While she didn’t like the fact that her pain
was still visible, she had to find a way to move past it and now
was as good a time as any.

“Good morning, Miss Johnson,” the school's
psychologist said in greeting as she entered the office to have her
paperwork adjusted because of her long absence. “I'm Mrs. Kellogg
and I want you to know that my door is always open for you.
Anything you need.”

Jaime shrugged shyly as she handed her
paperwork to the secretary as she stood nearby. “Thanks, but I
think I'll be okay.”

“Still, why don't you come and see me this
afternoon as soon as your classes are done? Just to see how you're
doing?” Mrs. Kellogg insisted.

Jaime shrugged again. “I don't think I need a
shrink. Thanks anyway.” Mrs. Kellogg seemed a little offended by
her insolence, but said nothing. “I just want to get back on track
for Harvard or UPenn,” Jaime continued. “I might need tutoring, but
not counseling.”

The woman nodded, her mouth thinning to a tight
line. “You're a very brave young lady,” she replied as she walked
away without another backward glance in her direction.

Unable to help herself, Jaime rolled her eyes.
She quickly remembered where she was and hoped that no one had
taken notice of what she’d done. Thanking the secretary for her
help, she took a deep breath and hurried out of the office, intent
on marching over to her first class.

CHAPTER
3

There was no doubt about it. Jaime was very
much aware of every single student's eyes on her every time she
walked into a classroom. No one openly talked to her. It was as if
she was a leper or something, but plenty of whispers and pointed
fingers were directed at her. Of that, she was quite
sure.

Even the people she had once considered close
friends seemed to be avoiding her now. She understood, though. She
realized that it was hard for people to know what to say when one
experienced a loss as great as she had. It hurt a little, the
inadvertent rejection, but she felt she could cope. At least, she
tried her best to do so, anyway.

Yet by the end of the school day, Jaime felt a
miserable melancholy that she couldn't describe even to herself.
She knew she had so much work ahead of her and laden with books,
she jumped into her car with the intent of going home and beginning
her studies. For some inexplicable reason, she couldn't go home
yet. She wanted to go somewhere else first, a place that was quite
special to her, so she drove there instead.

She sat in a booth at the ice cream parlor that
she and her dad had frequented since she was a small child. Before
her sat a cherry float; her favorite treat to order. As she sat
there sipping at it, she imagined her dad sitting across from her,
talking excitedly about a trip he would be taking or the results of
the last game between the Philadelphia Eagles and whatever team
they had just played against. She gazed down at her backpack as it
sat beside her in the booth, remembering the treasures she’d stowed
inside and swore they would never leave her sight. She didn't
realize she was the only one there besides the waitress inside the
parlor for a very long time.

Her daydreaming went undisturbed. Until the
moment she saw a man enter through the front door. It wasn't so
much an unusual thing for another patron to enter, yet there
something very different about this man. There was something about
him that drew her attention and she couldn't quite understand as to
why she suddenly felt so very afraid.

***

Evan had been wandering on foot since early
that morning. He felt so weak and exhausted from his pain, blood
loss, hunger, and lack of sleep. He had finally reached
civilization after hours of walking, yet he was so utterly
disoriented that he didn't know what time it was or where he was,
for that matter. All he knew was that he needed something to
eat.

***

The man was filthy and bleeding from a gash
across his forehead. Jaime noticed this as fear invaded every inch
of her body. He looked ready to collapse. She debated in a split
second's panic whether she should call an ambulance for him or to
run out of the place. Looking around quickly, she noted that no one
else was there now, not even the one waitress whom had served her
not too long ago. The man was now between her and the door that
would lead her to freedom.