heel to toe. Suddenly, I am at the end and relief floods through me. That wasn’t so hard.
“Bring the ladder to the side,” I call down. Sawyer moves to help me, but Sally holds him back.
“Walk back,” Sally counters. I roll my eyes.
“Sally, no-“ Sawyer begins.
“Don’t you think she’s brave enough to do it?” Sally asks him.
Well, I guess it can’t be that much harder than last time. I step carefully and it’s going well, when suddenly, a few steps from the edge, I twist my left foot a little bit and a quick, sharp pain shoots up and down it from my knee. I lose my balance and fall forward off the roof, hitting my bad knee on the edge and feeling a piercing pain a hundred times worse than the one a few seconds ago. I hear Sawyer cry my name, but it sounds much further away than he is. I can still catch the desperation in his voice, though. A strangled noise I didn’t think I would ever hear, let alone feel come from my own throat, escapes me. I hit the ground and am a little dazed for a minute and my vision is slightly fuzzy. My entire left leg is full of shooting pain that would be enough to make anyone shriek, but for some reason, nothing but heavy breathing comes forth. I can only form one coherent thought, and even that’s a little woozy: Thanks, Sally. Thanks a lot.
Twelve
Unbelievable. Let me get this straight: I’ve surfed Mavericks (a surf spot where people have died because they wiped out), Pipeline (again, people have died) and taken on surf and snowboard tricks that only pros do without getting hurt, and I just got injured for walking on a stupid garage roof? My mother always said my pride would be my undoing. For some unknown reason, it took me until now to to realize she was right.
“Annie!” Sawyer repeats, dropping to his knees beside me. “Oh, that’s not— Daniel get mum! McKayla, call Mrs. Maverick!” He brushes the hair out of my face gently.
“Guess I was a little stupid, huh?” I joke as I try to sit up. I whimper in pain as my knee moves.
“Don’t,” he commands, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t. Just lie still and we’ll get you help soon.” He takes my right hand in both of his and gently rubs it, and I try to focus on the soft, circular movement of his thumbs to distract me from my knee.
“Sorry I ruined your party,” I apologize.
“Don’t be,” he consoles. “This is a million times more exciting than just watching a movie.” I smile a little.
“Sawyer, Daniel told me what happened,” Mrs. Hensley says, appearing next to her son.
“Sorry Mrs. Hensley,” I say sheepishly.
“Oh, don’t apologize, I always knew that Emerson girl was trouble,” she replies, pulling out a cell phone and calling 9-1-1. “Yes, hi, I have girl here who was just dared to walk the ridgepole of my garage roof at my son’s birthday party, and she fell off and appears to have twisted her knee. Yes, she is conscious. 4589 Clemray Drive. Have you had knee problems before this?” she asks me.
“Chondromalacia in the knee that’s twisted,” I reply. “No surgery, though.” She repeats my answer into the phone and it continues like that for a few minutes. Mac informs me that my grandmother will meet us at the hospital. A few minutes after she hangs up, I hear sirens headed our way. A first response team somehow manages to stabilize my knee as much as they can before they lift me up and put me on a gurney, wheeling me out to the ambulance. Sawyer keeps hold of my hand the whole way. I’m beyond grateful for the support.
“I don’t know if I’ll be back, just keep everyone calm. Turn on the movie and I’ll call when I know about all this,” Sawyer tells Daniel. “I’ll see you at the hospital, okay?” he tells me. I want to protest and tell him to stay at his party, but all I can to is nod as they lift me into the ambulance. McKayla, Mrs. Hensley and Sawyer get in the truck parked in the
“Bring the ladder to the side,” I call down. Sawyer moves to help me, but Sally holds him back.
“Walk back,” Sally counters. I roll my eyes.
“Sally, no-“ Sawyer begins.
“Don’t you think she’s brave enough to do it?” Sally asks him.
Well, I guess it can’t be that much harder than last time. I step carefully and it’s going well, when suddenly, a few steps from the edge, I twist my left foot a little bit and a quick, sharp pain shoots up and down it from my knee. I lose my balance and fall forward off the roof, hitting my bad knee on the edge and feeling a piercing pain a hundred times worse than the one a few seconds ago. I hear Sawyer cry my name, but it sounds much further away than he is. I can still catch the desperation in his voice, though. A strangled noise I didn’t think I would ever hear, let alone feel come from my own throat, escapes me. I hit the ground and am a little dazed for a minute and my vision is slightly fuzzy. My entire left leg is full of shooting pain that would be enough to make anyone shriek, but for some reason, nothing but heavy breathing comes forth. I can only form one coherent thought, and even that’s a little woozy: Thanks, Sally. Thanks a lot.
Twelve
Unbelievable. Let me get this straight: I’ve surfed Mavericks (a surf spot where people have died because they wiped out), Pipeline (again, people have died) and taken on surf and snowboard tricks that only pros do without getting hurt, and I just got injured for walking on a stupid garage roof? My mother always said my pride would be my undoing. For some unknown reason, it took me until now to to realize she was right.
“Annie!” Sawyer repeats, dropping to his knees beside me. “Oh, that’s not— Daniel get mum! McKayla, call Mrs. Maverick!” He brushes the hair out of my face gently.
“Guess I was a little stupid, huh?” I joke as I try to sit up. I whimper in pain as my knee moves.
“Don’t,” he commands, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t. Just lie still and we’ll get you help soon.” He takes my right hand in both of his and gently rubs it, and I try to focus on the soft, circular movement of his thumbs to distract me from my knee.
“Sorry I ruined your party,” I apologize.
“Don’t be,” he consoles. “This is a million times more exciting than just watching a movie.” I smile a little.
“Sawyer, Daniel told me what happened,” Mrs. Hensley says, appearing next to her son.
“Sorry Mrs. Hensley,” I say sheepishly.
“Oh, don’t apologize, I always knew that Emerson girl was trouble,” she replies, pulling out a cell phone and calling 9-1-1. “Yes, hi, I have girl here who was just dared to walk the ridgepole of my garage roof at my son’s birthday party, and she fell off and appears to have twisted her knee. Yes, she is conscious. 4589 Clemray Drive. Have you had knee problems before this?” she asks me.
“Chondromalacia in the knee that’s twisted,” I reply. “No surgery, though.” She repeats my answer into the phone and it continues like that for a few minutes. Mac informs me that my grandmother will meet us at the hospital. A few minutes after she hangs up, I hear sirens headed our way. A first response team somehow manages to stabilize my knee as much as they can before they lift me up and put me on a gurney, wheeling me out to the ambulance. Sawyer keeps hold of my hand the whole way. I’m beyond grateful for the support.
“I don’t know if I’ll be back, just keep everyone calm. Turn on the movie and I’ll call when I know about all this,” Sawyer tells Daniel. “I’ll see you at the hospital, okay?” he tells me. I want to protest and tell him to stay at his party, but all I can to is nod as they lift me into the ambulance. McKayla, Mrs. Hensley and Sawyer get in the truck parked in the
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