The Last Dance (20 page)
Authors: Kiki Hamilton
She half-laughed. “Oh. Okay.”
MIRA WAS SITTING on the far side of the room from where we usually sat when we walked into the French room. She appeared to be completely dressed in black, like she was headed to a Goth party. Or a funeral.
“Apparently still pissed,” I said under my breath.
“Apparently.”
I glanced at Ivy in surprise. I hadn’t actually meant for her to hear that. But she seemed fine. She sat down and got out her notebook and stared toward the front of the class at the teacher.
I sat at an angle in my chair, partly to give my legs room to stretch out, partly to be able to watch Ivy. I could see Mira look our way several times, but she never met my eyes. I’d told her what I thought. I was going to leave it to the two of them to figure out the next step.
IVY AND I split up for lunch and fourth period. I liked sitting with the guys at lunch. It was the same crew I’d hung out with basically since sixth grade. We had two or three tables we filled up every day and I figured Ivy was probably happy to get away from me for awhile.
Today, though, for the first time, I contemplated leaving the guys and sitting with Ivy. I knew she wouldn’t want to sit with my gang. I searched the lunchroom for her but I couldn’t see her anywhere. I looked for Mira but I couldn’t find her either.
I HURRIED TO fifth period. Michael had me running now and had started using some weights with my right leg. I didn’t even limp when I walked anymore and only had weakness when I was really tired. For the first time since the accident I believed that I was going to get well. I’d been practicing with CJ and actually had been passing right on the money. It was a good feeling. Coach had more workouts planned for me, too. If I survived, I was going to be in better shape than I’d ever been in my life.
I hurried into the music room. I couldn’t wait to show Ivy how much I’d improved on the piano. I had a surprise for her today, partly to repay her for how much hard work she was doing for me.
I dropped my backpack on the floor and pulled out my piano book, fanning the pages to find the piece I’d secretly been working on. It was a piece by Brahms, set in a minor key, so it was haunting and beautiful. It totally reminded me of Ivy.
Spreading the pages out on the stand, I started warming my fingers up, a strange little bubble of nerves in my stomach, like I was warming up before a game. I heard Ivy talking to someone in the choir room behind me so I stopped playing. I wanted the music to be a surprise. Instead, I started playing some other warm-up scales as I waited for her.
After a few minutes I glanced over my shoulder. I could see her standing in the doorway as she finished up her conversation. It looked like she was talking to one of the music teachers. Her long dark hair fell down her back like a wall of black silk, and even from here, she looked exotic and beautiful. That sense of pride I always felt when I was around her filled my chest. Did Brandon Chang have any idea how lucky he was?
Ivy hurried in my direction. “Sorry I’m late. Mr. Flynn needed to talk to me about something.” She only carried a notebook to fifth period rather than a backpack as she didn’t need any books. She dropped gracefully down into the folding chair, sliding her feet beneath her. She motioned to the piano. “You can go ahead and start. You don’t need to wait for me.”
I opened my music again and adjusted the pages, suddenly feeling nervous and sort of lame. But I plunged ahead. “I worked on a new piece over Christmas break.”
“Oh, that’s great.” She gave me a teasing smile as she leaned back in the chair. “So you actually practiced?”
“Yeah.” I laughed. “A little.” If she only knew. I’d started learning this song during Thanksgiving break. It had taken me this long and too many hours of practice to count, to play it well enough for her to hear.
I was going to give her some bullshit line and pretend to be super-cool to hide my embarrassment then I changed my mind. I just told her the truth. “This song is my thank you for all the help you’ve given me. I think of it as Ivy’s Song.”
“What?’ she said softly. She got a look just like my mom does when she’s going to get all emotional. Just like that, the nervous bubble was gone. That expression on her face was worth every hour of practice I’d put into this song.
I placed my hands on the keys and exhaled. My fingers found the first familiar notes and from there it just got easier. I only fumbled one little part but the rest of it went pretty damn good. I played the last arpeggiated chord and glanced over at her.
Her eyes were all watery like she might cry. “Oh my God, Q, that was wonderful. I can’t believe how well you played! Honestly, you’re amazing.” Suddenly she had her arms around my neck and her voice was soft in my ear. I could feel her wet cheek against mine. “Thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a more precious gift.”
I didn’t think—I just reacted. I slid my arms around her back and pulled her close, burying my face in her soft hair. She fit just right against my chest. For one freaky moment I thought
I
might cry. I took a deep breath of plumeria. I’d done it.
For the first time since my accident I was proud of something I’d accomplished. Something besides regaining what I’d had and lost. I’d done something new. Score one for the TBI boy. Just then Brandon Chang called her name from the orchestra chamber room.
“Ivy, Ivy—did you hear?”
She jerked out of my arms as Brandon came rushing through the door. I silently groaned and clenched my fist, wishing I could pop the little orchestra geek in the nose. Clearly, we needed to start shutting the door to this room.
“We’ve been accepted! We’re going to Paris over spring break!”
B
randon slid to a stop as he spotted me and Q, even though I’d hurriedly slid back into my seat.
“Oh,” he said. It was like there was a tickertape running across his forehead as he put two and two together. “Uh. Sorry.” Brandon’s face went blank and he pushed his black frame glasses up his nose. Then his excitement bubbled over again. “
But did you know?”
I nodded. “Mr. Flynn told me when I got to fifth period.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Q’s head swing toward me. He had the strangest expression on his face.
Suddenly he pushed the piano bench back with a terrible screech of the wooden legs against the linoleum tile floor and stood up. “Sounds like you guys have some exciting plans.” He grabbed his backpack and swung it over his shoulder, his muscles bulging through his sleeve. “I’ll let you get to it. I’ve gotta check in with Coach Branson about something anyway.”
For a second I was so surprised I didn’t say anything. “But Q, wait—”
“See you later.” He headed for the door without a backward glance.
Brandon gave me a silent, wide-eyed look as he stiffly raised his hand toward Q. “Kbye.” He kind of looked frightened. Which was a little bit funny in a not-funny-at-all situation.
I jumped out of my chair and ran to Q’s side, grabbing his arm. “Do you have to go now?” He had a look I’d never seen on his face before. Angry and disgusted and—
wounded
.
“Yeah, Ivy. I do.” Then he jerked the door open and walked through, not giving me any room to follow him.
Q DIDN’T COME to study hall sixth period. Of course, Mira wasn’t there either. I waited twenty minutes before I packed my stuff up and walked home. I wanted to text Q. I wanted to call him. But one part of my head kept whispering: This is the break you need to tell him.
I thought about the beautiful song he’d played for me. Ivy’s Song. It made me smile just thinking about it. I’d never been given anything more precious and heartfelt. But his gift also made me want to cry at the same time, making my decision that much more painful.
I
couldn’t get out of school fast enough. Thank God I had a doctor appointment for an excuse, though I would’ve left anyway. I couldn’t go sit with Ivy in sixth period knowing that she and Brandon were going to Paris together. An orchestra trip together was one thing, but
Paris?
Seriously?
I’d been so excited to see Ivy, to play her song—to show her how much I’d improved— I’d forgotten the little detail that she was still going out with Brandon. But dammit, if she liked Brandon so much, why did she hug me and look at me like that?
I kicked an empty soda can that was lying near the garbage can. The tinny clang echoed off the school’s wall as I strode out to the back parking lot. Shit! Why did this have to be so difficult all the time? Why did I have to care?
EVEN THOUGH I drove to my doctor appointment, my mom insisted on coming too. Julie had left on New Year’s Day and gone back to college. We never did talk about ‘the fight’ again, but it hung in the air around us like the dog’s fart. You couldn’t see it, but everybody knew it was there.
My mom sat next to me thumbing through a magazine as I was texting a couple of the guys while we waited for the doctor. The endless piano practice had definitely improved my right hand. My fingers actually responded like normal to my brain now, which made me grateful every time I used them.
“Ron is studying to be an occupational therapist,” she said out of the blue.
I didn’t stop texting. So. We were going to talk about it. “That’s nice.” I clicked send and shoved my phone into my pocket. “Is that what makes him such a know-it-all?”
“Kellen.” That disapproving tone. “I think he spoke out of true concern for you, not to be a know-it-all.” My mother closed the magazine. She was really pretty cool. She rarely freaked out about anything. “I think we should ask the doctor what she thinks about you playing football again.”
DOC MURDOCH WENT through all the standard tests and questions before she took my right hand and tested my fingers. When she set my hand down and looked me square in the eye over her glasses, my heart gave an extra beat. Something was coming.
“You are truly amazing, Kellen. It’s practically a medical miracle that you could recover like you have. Especially in that amount of time.” She put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s a testament to your hard work and the power of believing in yourself.”
“Thanks, Doc.” I wondered what she would think if she knew how many times I hadn’t believed in myself. I shrugged. “I’m feelin’ pretty good again.”
“How’s your school work going? Do you still need a tutor?” She peered at me with a look that said she already knew the answer.
The truth was I didn’t
need
a tutor. But I
wanted
my tutor. In more ways than one. “Nah, probably not. I’m caught up in everything now.”
She nodded and turned away. “I’d say that you have officially recovered, Kellen. I don’t need to see you again unless you feel like you’re having trouble with something.” She scratched some notes into my thick file.
“Doctor Murdoch, we do have one question.” My mom sat in the blue plastic chair on the other side of the small room, her legs crossed and hands resting in her lap. She looked perfectly relaxed as if this question didn’t hold the answer to my entire future—my entire life.
“What’s that, Jane?” The doctor turned and peered over her glasses at my mom.
“What do you think about Kellen playing football again?” The words hung in the air. My heart was beating like the drum roll the band played at kickoff.
The doctor glanced over at me as she thought about the question. “From a medical perspective, Kellen’s brain and body have had time to heal and are responding normally again. Technically he’s cleared to play football.”
My heart fluttered in my chest like it had grown wings.
“However—” the doc’s tone held a note that made my heart plunge into my shoes— “it’s my personal and professional opinion that he would be putting himself at a catastrophic risk to play sports where he might continue to absorb high-level impact to the brain.”
She tapped her finger on my file and totally reminded me of Coach Branson. “There’s new research from Purdue University that suggests all football players, even those who haven’t suffered a concussion or serious injury like Kellen, are receiving sub-concussive blows to the head that are resulting in long-lasting brain impairment. These repeated impacts are causing significant systematic changes in their brain functioning.”
Dr. Murdoch crossed her arms. “New studies are showing increased levels of tau proteins in the brain. This occurs when the brain is shaken too hard and the nerve fibers are torn, releasing the tau. The end result is a condition called chronic traumatic encephalopathy, or CTE. There is a conclusive link between tau and brain damage.”
She closed her file with a snap and cradled it in one arm. “We’re just now beginning to measure and track the damage that the brain and neural system incurs from repeated impact. The long-term effects remain to be seen, though dementia and mental illness seem likely.”
Dr. Murdoch slid her glasses down even further so she could see straight into my eyes. The final stab to my heart—I could see it coming. “I’ve known you since you were an infant, Kellen. I’ve watched you grow into a wonderful, kind and responsible young man, so I say this not only as a doctor, but as someone who cares about you.”
For one heartbeat, the room was absolutely silent. Then came the kill shot. “If you were my son, I’d strongly advise you against ever playing football again. It’d be no different than playing Russian roulette with your brain.”
I
went in and spoke to Mr. Decker before school the next day. Before I changed my mind.
“Yes, Miss Ly?” The principal sat behind his big desk, stacks of paper surrounding him, looking pre-occupied. “How can I help you?”
“I think I have to withdraw from tutoring Kellen Peterson.” I tried to sound professional. “He seems to be doing much better and I’m afraid that I won’t be able to keep up with my own studies and music over the next few months if I keep doing both.”
“Hmmmm,” Mr. Decker said. “Have you discussed this with Kellen?”
I nodded. “Kind of.” Liar! my head shouted at me.
