Page 19 of The Way We Swing Back

“Please,” I begged.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Be ready to go.”

The ten minutes felt like ten hours. Gavin’s crying had turned into light sniffling, the shock of what had happened starting to wear off.

When Coach arrived, I opened the back of his car and helped Gavin in, buckling him in as he was too preoccupied to do it himself. I slipped into the front seat, the heat from the vents making me even more flustered.

“What happened, Easton?” Coach asked. His voice was soft, but the question jabbed at me.

“We were fooling around. He tried to put me in a headlock, and I pushed him away. He tripped on my bag.”

“Have you called his parents yet?”

“Can you?”

“Not on this one, Easton,” he said, and my hands went cold around my phone. I continued to fiddle with it as we got closer to the hospital, not wanting to punch in the number.

“You need to do this, Easton. We’re going to need Gavin’s insurance info.”

“Okay,” I said. I delayed for another minute, but when the hospital came into view, I pushed the call button and waited.

“What’s up, Easton?” Mr. Quinn said, his voice too light and happy.

I swallowed.

Mr. Quinn spoke again, his voice sharper this time. “What happened?”

“There’s something wrong with Gavin’s wrist,” I spit out. “Coach Berrios is taking us to the hospital. We were messing around, but it’s my fault; I shouldn’t have shoved him.”

“You shoved Gavin, and you’re headed to the hospital?” Mr. Quinn said. His voice ripped to a level I’d never heard. “What do you mean you were just messing around? Is he okay?”

“I’m sorry,” I gasped.

“You’re sorry? Jesus fucking Christ, how many times do I have to ask you guys not to roughhouse? Put Berry on the phone.”

I handed over the phone, unable to say anything else, tears coming to my eyes.

“Hi, Scott. ... Yeah, we’re headed to St. Mary’s. Gavin’s going to be fine. We’re just going to need your insurance info. ... Yeah, I’ll stick around until you guys get back. ... Not a problem.”

Coach ended the call as we pulled into a parking lot and handed me the phone. He had this sad look on his face, like he knew the doghouse I was in with the Quinns.

I hoped I could survive it.

Chapter 9

The sterile lights of the building in front of us flickered as I stepped out of Coach’s car, the winter air sharp against my cheeks. My shoes squelched against the wet concrete, and I tugged my hoodie tighter over my shoulders before helping Gavin out of the back seat.

When we reached the hospital doors, they hissed open like mechanical lungs, and I swallowed, wishing I could vanish.

Inside, the waiting room smelled of ammonia and baby powder. Chairs lined the walls, nearly all of them filled, but I didn’t want a chair. I wanted a hole to crawl into, a place no one could see me or the fear plastered across my face.

Gavin and Coach walked to the reception desk, Gavin holding his wrist with his off hand, not looking at me. I wasn’t sure he’d said two words since Coach had picked us up.

I finally sat, my mind jumping forward and backward and sideways. Would he need a cast? Could he play baseball in the spring? Would he ever trust me again? Would the Quinns? The questions pounded against the walls of my skull like a drumline that refused to stop.

I stood up and paced the lobby before walking outside, needing a breath of fresh air. I thought about grabbing an Uber to my grandparents and just never coming back.

“Easton,” a voice cut through the air whirling around me.