“Mmokay,” Shane murmured. He had no idea if it was true, but he didn’t want to hear the worry in Ilya’s voice anymore.
“We’re going to move you onto the spinal board, Shane. Keep your head still, please.”
Spinal board?
“Ilya, please stand back,” the authoritative voice said. And the dark blur that had been looming over Shane disappeared.
“We’re not alone,” Shane slurred. “Ilya. They can see us.”
He felt hands on his arms and legs. He felt straps securing him to a board.
“Is he all right?” Ilya’s voice again.
No one answered him.
“Tell him,” Shane said. “Tell him I’m fine.”
He wanted to turn his head to look at Ilya, but he couldn’t now.
Suddenly, he was in the air. He watched the lights and the rafters and the banners that hung from them pass in front of his eyes as he was carried off the ice. He heard applause.
Oh god. What if I’m not okay?
What if I never walk again?
“What happened?” he gritted out.
“You took a blow to the head. You went into the boards.”
Fuck.
“There’s an ambulance waiting.”
Shane pressed his lips together. His eyes were stinging. He wasscared.
“My parents,” he said. “They’re at the game.”
He watched the paramedics share a look, then one of them nodded. “We’ll make sure they know where we’re taking you.”
Shane closed his eyes because keeping them open was too difficult.
“We need you to stay awake, Shane. All right?”
“Yeah. Sure,” Shane said. As the confusion started to clear, he was able to focus on the pain that shot through him.
He felt cool air on his feet as someone removed his skates. “Can you move your toes?”
Fuck. He really, really hoped so. Feeling the cold air had to be a good sign, right?
“Good,” the paramedic said, because apparently Shane had successfully wiggled his toes.
Thank god. Thank god. Thank god.
The paramedics did things around him and talked to each other and reminded Shane to stay awake every time his eyelids closed.
Shane thought of his parents.They must be so worried.
He thought of Ilya. He wished he could text him. He wished he could tell him he wiggled his toes.
