Happenstance: Part Two (Happenstance #2) by Jamie McGuire Page B

into his elbow and waited for the catcher. He shook his head twice and then nodded. He reared back, hiked his leg, and launched the ball at the batter.
    “Someone’s lit a fire under his ass today,” Peter said after Weston threw three consecutive strikes.
    The umpire called the out, and the players jogged into the dugout. The Chisolm players put on their mitts and ran to their positions on the field.
    In the sixth inning, we were batting, down by one. I could hear coughing from the dugout.
    “Is that Weston?” Veronica said. “He has his inhaler, right?”
    “He always does,” Peter said, trying to sound casual, but I caught a hint of worry in his voice.
    “He’s been having a lot of flare-ups with his asthma lately,” Veronica told Julianne.
    A commotion drew our attention to Blackwell’s dugout, and then Coach Langdon stepped out and yelled. The paramedics standing by rushed to the coach, and players began to hop out, walking backward as they watched in astonishment at whatever we couldn’t see. Peter stood, taking two steps at a time down the bleachers. Veronica took the cement steps.
    “Oh God,” I said.
    My parents stood too, and I followed them down the stairs and through the gate.
    “Let’s go!” Julianne commanded.
    “Weston?” Veronica cried.
    Peter was holding her shoulders as she cupped her hands over her mouth.
    One of the paramedics ran to the ambulance and came back with a gurney and supplies, quickly loading Weston onto the stretcher. That was the first time I got a good look at him. He was pale, his hair soaked and stuck to his forehead. His eyes were rolled back into his head as he gasped for air. His inhaler fell out of his hand to the ground.
    “Go! Go!” Sam barked, helping Julianne and the paramedics push the stretcher’s wheels across the dirt and grass to the sidewalk, and then to the ambulance.
    The entire crowd was silent. The players all took a knee, holding their hats over their hearts.
    “No, no, no,” I whispered, watching helplessly.
    The ambulance sped off with full lights and sirens down Coolidge Street toward the hospital, and Peter and Veronica ran to their cars.
    “Erin! Erin! Come on!” Julianne called to me from the parking lot.
    I ran with her to her G-Wagon. The door slammed behind me, and I watched her twist the ignition and yank the gear into reverse and then into drive.
    “Where’s Sam?”
    “In the ambulance. Weston’s had asthma attacks before. Not in a long time, but he will be okay. He will.”
    “You promise?” I said, my entire body trembling.
    Julianne’s lips pressed together, making a hard line. “He can’t do this again. He wouldn’t.”
    “Who?”
    “God.”
    I blinked and then looked out the window, watching the houses pass by.
    Julianne pulled into the back lot of the hospital where the ambulance bay was located. The ambulance was already parked, its back door hanging wide open.
    Julianne held my hand, and I kept her quick pace as we walked inside to the waiting room.
    Mothers holding feverish babies and an elderly couple, one of them with a deep cough, took up the few chairs available—not that we needed them.
    I wrapped my arms around my middle, and after twenty grueling minutes, Sam appeared. He looked worried.
    “They’re stabilizing him,” he said, but he put his hand on the small of Julianne’s back and led her into the hallway.
    They spoke softly, having an intense conversation. Julianne looked back at me once and covered her mouth with her hand.
    I couldn’t find a comfortable place to put my hands, so I finally resorted to crossing them across my stomach again.
    Sam and Julianne returned, taking me in both of their arms.
    “He’s going to be okay,” Sam said.
    “You’re sure?” I asked.
    “They’re working on it.” He handed me a five-dollar bill. “Why don’t you get us some waters from the vending machine down the hall?”
    I nodded, taking the bill and leaving the waiting room, turning right. I could see