“I can explain, Coach. Last night, I went out to dinner with my roommate and we were in an accident. I had a bad headache so I had trouble falling asleep. I slept right through my alarm this morning by mistake.” It’s not a total lie. I did go out with Cara, and I did have an accident. It may not have happened in a car, but I still hit something.

I’m an awful person. I hate liars. My dad used to lie to my mom about every single thing he did. She caught him in his own lies more times than I can even count.

“You do have a significant bruise on your head. Did you see a doctor last night?”

“Um. No. It didn’t start to bruise right away and I can’t afford the cost of the ER. All of my family physicians are back home.”

“I wish you would have gone anyway, Sophie. I can’t let you practice until you’re cleared by a doctor. Since you don’t have one of your own, you can see the team physician when you finish up here. I can’t let you practice until a head injury is ruled out. You could do more damage if you fall.”

“Thank you for understanding, Coach. I’ll see the doctor right away. I’m anxious to get back into the gym and work-out. I’ve been sticking to my amped up conditioning program as you asked.” He doesn’t need to know I haven’t eaten a decent meal in over twenty-four hours all while getting drunk and injured in the process.

“I’m glad to hear that, Sophie. Let me know what the doctor says. Hopefully it’s nothing too serious; you can’t afford to miss any gym time.”

“I will, Coach, thank you. I’ll be back to practice as soon as I can.”

“Hold onto this.” He reaches out his arm and hands me a business card with his information printed on it. “Everyone on the team has one. I know I’m your Coach, but I’m also here as a mentor. You can reach me anytime. Okay?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he inspects my head again. Part of me knows I didn’t completely sell him on my excuse. Regardless, I accept the offered card and thank my lucky stars he’s letting me off the hook. Maybe my injury is punishment enough for him. “Sure. Thank you, Coach.”

I leave his office before he has a chance to change his mind about probation. If any of my teammates were at the party last night, I’ll get kicked off the team for lying and drinking. I didn’t cross paths with any of them, but considering I don’t remember a large portion of the night, I can’t be sure one way or the other. I have to get my shit together, and fast. My life’s complicated enough without all this added bullshit.

THE DOCTOR’S EXPECTING ME WHEN I arrive to his office. I fidget in the waiting room chair praying he buys my line of bullshit about the accident. My palms are sweating from going over the story in my head enough times to keep my facts straight which is tough at the moment. My thoughts keep getting jumbled together in a mix of fiction and reality.

“Sophie. Come on back.”

I stand up to follow him, but get a little dizzy. He’s watching me intently so I play it off as best I can.

“How long has that been happening?” His brow is furrowed and he looks to be studying my every move. The tap, tap, tap of his pen on my file folder is enough to make it hard to concentrate on his words.

“My bruise?” I question.

“No. The dizziness. You lost your balance when you stood up.” He’s already writing things down on my chart. That can’t be good.

“Oh. Since this morning. I hit my head last night, but I’m fine.” I refuse to tell him how much pain I’m in. There’s only one place I need to be and it’s at practice.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Inside exam room number one, he shines a light in my eyes, measures my pupils along with my reflexes all before firing off a few mental exercises. I stumble over my numbers when I’m asked to count backwards from twenty, but I blame it on my nerves. I’m then asked about our presidents and a slew of other random trivia. Other than drawing a blank on the former presidents, I breeze through the questions—or so I think. The physical tests do me in completely. I can’t walk in a straight line let alone backwards. My balance is shot to shit no matter how hard I try to concentrate on my movements.

“Sophie, I’ll be frank with you. You need to go have a scan. I can’t clear you until you have it. Your dizziness and hesitation with the mental exercises has me concerned. I’m ninety percent positive you’ve received a concussion from your injury. No matter how large or small, it’s still the same process for recovery. I’ll go over the scan results when I receive them, but for now, I’m pulling you from practice until further notice.”

“But I’m okay. Honestly, I’m fine.” I protest.

“Have you had a concussion in the past?”

“Yes.”

“All the more reason to be extra cautious. Gymnastics is a risky sport as it is, Sophie. I’m not willing to allow permanent damage to your body and you shouldn’t either. You’ll get back to the gym faster if you listen to what I’m saying and follow my instructions.”

“Can I at least do cardio?”

“Walking is fine, everything else can wait. Your body needs to heal. You can’t run while you’re dizzy, Sophie.”

I hang my head knowing that walking won’t help me with conditioning at all. I hop off the examination table and accept the order form for the test. While all of this seems ridiculous, I’m wise enough to know it’s necessary. Whether I like it or not, I messed up and have to play by their rules now.

“Believe it or not, I do understand your frustrations, but we have to be smart about this. With your prior concussion history, it takes less and less each time to produce a more severe result. Come back and see me in a week, Sophie. It’s not up for debate. We’ll reevaluate your condition and see what we can add to your workout regimen. If you have any trouble in class, please tell your professors to give me a call. I’ll confirm your condition.”

“Okay,” I whisper, knowing I don’t want to accept the words he’s telling me. “Can I go now?”

“Yes, take this card. This is where you need to go for your test this evening. It’s also on the top of the order form. Please have someone take you. No driving until next week either.”

“Okay. I’ll find a ride.”

Lost in a daze of stupidity and anger, I leave the doctor’s office. I spend the entire walk back to my room going over every reason why I deserve to fail. Moving to Alabama has made me doubt ever leaving home. I’ve made more poor choices in four days than I have since I was a rebellious toddler.

Replaying over and over in my mind, I hear my mom warning me not to let her down. Having been a gymnast herself, she knows how big of an accomplishment it is to be on this team. In fact, she talked about it from the moment the letter of interest arrived until the moment I walked out the door on moving day. It’s obvious she’s trying to live out her dream through me. Maybe that should bother me, but it doesn’t. Because in my crazy mind, it means she sees I’m worth something—that I have value.

Completely defeated, I sigh when I open the door to my room and find Cara curling her hair, as usual. Evening classes begin tonight, with the rest starting in the morning. I remember she has a class, but I can’t remember which one. Damn concussion. “You have class tonight, right?”

“Yeah, an art elective. This should be interesting. I can’t even draw stick people, but how bad can pottery be, right? They made it look sexy and fun in the movie Ghost. Plus Drew’s in the class. So I’m looking forward to it.”

“Maybe they’ll let you act out the scene for extra credit if your pottery sucks.”

“Girl, I wish!”

I sit down at my desk and fire up my computer. I have to figure out how far and in which direction the imaging center is so I can get on the right bus. My tired brain doesn’t want to handle all the logistics, but I don’t have a choice. I jot the directions down on a notepad, certain I’ll never be able to recall each and every turn if I don’t.