The Only Exception (7 page)

“Prove it,” Sally interjects, flicking her eyebrows up in innocent question.

“How?” I ask.

“Walk the top of the garage,” she dares. “Or if you’re too chicken…”

“I didn’t say anything, Sally,” I retort. McKayla gives me a look that says “You’re really even considering this?”

Standing, I take my shoes off and hand them along with my clutch and water to Sawyer. “Can you hold these for me?”

“Annie, don’t be stupid,” he says. I huff and put my things down on the blanket instead. I turn towards the garage, but he catches my hand.

“I’m not,” I promise. His bright blue eyes are full of worry and maybe even a dash of panic, both of which surprise me.

“Just,” he begins. “Just be careful.” I nod and squeeze his hand to reassure him.

There’s a ladder on the side of the garage that I scale quickly without trouble. Sally has a smug look on her face as I stand and wobble on the metal ridgepole. My bare feet grip the hot metal. It’s only a few inches wide and rounded, so it’s not easy. I walk forward carefully, going 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 driveway and they shut the doors to the ambulance.

Everyone on the first response team starts to ask me questions and I answer them as best I can, but thankfully, it’s a very short trip to the hospital. Upon arrival, the team rolls me out and through a series of hallways into a room. “Your family is coming, okay?” a nurse says as I lay there.

“What for?” I ask. Before she can explain, my grandparents enter the room, with Sawyer and McKayla behind them.

“Family only,” the nurse demands. I get the feeling she says this a thousand times a day with the trained look she gives my friends.

“No,” I interject. “I need them too.” She looks at me and glances at my knee.

“Fine, but only for a few minutes,” she informs. Sawyer and Mac rush to my side. Sawyer casually slips his hand into mine again and I smile slightly at him and mouth “Thank you.” He nods in response and gives my hand a squeeze.

“Mr. and Mrs. Maverick, your granddaughter’s knee has been severely dislocated and there appears to be something wrong with her cartilage. To properly set it to actually heal and not cause her more pain, we need to do surgery as soon as possible.”

“Well, I suppose if that’s the way you have to do it,” Papaw replies, glancing at me.

“You’ll need to sign some papers and choose a method of anesthetics,” she adds. “We can either put her to sleep with general anesthesia, or she can stay awake and we can inject her knee with local anesthesia.”

“No way,” I reply. “I can’t be awake.”

“Listen to her,” Papaw agrees. Grammy and Papaw each give me a kiss, and then follow the nurse out to file paperwork. I’ve had general anesthesia before and it’s disorienting, but not bad enough to make me want to be awake and alert when they cut open my knee. Mac gives me a hug.

“Make sure he’s not worrying about me the whole time at his party,” I tell Mac.

“I’m not going back,” he protests. “I’m staying here until your surgery’s over.”

“What good would that do? I won’t even be awake for hours,” I retort. He hesitates.

“Fine,” he decides, then he laughs. “Maybe you should stop hanging out with me. I seem to be very hazardous to your health.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I reply, smiling. He follows Mac out of the room, casting me one last glance.

Several hours later, I wake in a different room. My arm is sore from being poked and prodded and, to my dismay, has a needle stuck in it, and my knee, to say the least, is not comfortable, but much better than it was. My arms prickle with goosebumps from the temperature and the thin hospital gown I’ve changed into doesn’t do much to help. My grandparents sit in chairs in opposite corners of the room, with my grandpa at my side watching television on the flatscreen mounted high on the wall and my grandma underneath the TV, reading a book. A vase of the prettiest red roses I’ve ever seen sits on the table to my right, with a little card sticking out that reads: “Sally’s parents banned her from regionals for daring you. I’ll come see you soon. Get better, Madame Banshee. Love, Jerkface.” I smile and giggle a little bit.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Grammy greets softly upon hearing me giggle.

“What time is it?” I ask groggily.

“Almost one in the morning,” Papaw answers, yawning. He looks just as tired as he sounds.

“You guys can go home and catch some sleep, you know,” I tell them.

“We wanted to be here when you woke up,” he says.

“Sawyer and his mom and dad came by earlier,” Grammy informs me. I smile.

“I noticed,” I reply, nodding at the flowers. Grammy smiles.

“He wanted to stay until you woke up too, but his parents made him go home and get some sleep,” she says. “The way he looked at you, I don’t think he’ll be getting any sleep tonight.” I feel myself blush. What is it with the blushing this summer? I almost never blush, and I’ve probably blushed a hundred times since I got here.

“So what’s up with the knee?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Set back in the groove and they’ve added a little bit of cartilage on one side to fix your chondromalacia,” Papaw tells me. “As soon as you recover, you should have a perfectly normal knee.”

“Which is when?” I inquire, dreading the answer. I can already guess that I’m down and out for regionals.

“They said recovery should be about six weeks, but I’d be careful about surfing. We’ll get you trained up, but I don’t know about any more competition,” Papaw replies.

“So no regionals.”

“No regionals. Probably.”

“Great,” I huff. “Do either of you have my stuff?”

“Sawyer brought your clutch and shoes over,” Grammy answers, handing me the clutch. “I washed your dress out with bleach and it will be fine. The leggings, however, are shredded.”

“Thanks. That’s okay, I never wear them anyway,” I reassure her, reaching for my phone. Clicking the power button, I see that my guess was correct. That cheeky boy. My background is a silly selfie of Sawyer and going into my contacts, I don’t find a Sawyer Hensley, but someone entered a new contact called “Jerkface.” Hm, I wonder who that could be (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

I tap out a text message to Jerkface’s cell phone number. “Just woke up. Text me when you’re up. Thanks for the flowers :-)”

“Alright, Kiddo,” Papaw says, standing. “You okay here? You’re going to be here for three or four days.”

“I’ll be fine. Go get some sleep,” I assure. They both plant kisses on my forehead and leave. A minute or two after they leave, my phone buzzes. “Haven’t been able to sleep at all. Can I come see you?”

“Visiting hours are over,” I text with a little emoji sticking it’s tongue out at him. “I’m going to be here for 3 or 4 days though. You can come see me tomorrow.”

“That’s not going to help me sleep,” he texts, accompanied by a sleeping emoji.

“Would talking to me help?” I ask. He texts back a thumbs-up and my phone starts to ring. I answer immediately. “Hey, Jerkface.”

“Hey.” His deep voice sounds rough and sleepy.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

“I’m…” He hesitates. “I’m worried about you. You freaked me out, you know, falling off the roof and nearly tearing your leg in two.”

“For the record, it was already loose and just got knocked out of the joint,” I console. “I’m okay, really. Not fond of hospitals or needles, though, both of which I have to deal with right now.”

“I feel really bad for not sticking up for you to Sally,” he confesses.

“You didn’t have to,” I reply. “And you did. I was just too cocky to stand up for myself.”

“I know, but I should’ve done more,” he combats. A short silence ensues.

“Do you want to come watch a movie tomorrow? Visiting hours open at eight, I think,” I inquire. “I have DVD player here in the room.”

“Sure. Why don’t we pick up where we left off with
Divergent
?” he asks. I smile.

“Of course,” I answer. “Get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow. If I’m asleep, wake me up. Trust me, I won’t care.”

“Okay,” Sawyer says. “Goodnight, Annie.”

“Goodnight, Sawyer.”

The next morning, my eyes flutter open to meet a pair of familiar brown eyes staring at me. “Morning,” I yawn. “You know, I told you you could wake me up.”

“I know,” Sawyer replies, smiling. “You looked too peaceful. I thought you could use the rest.” I smile and feel my cheeks get hot, even though the rest of me is cold. Just then, a nurse enters the room to check my vitals.

“Today, we’re going to have a physical therapist come in and help you start rehab,” she informs me. “We might take you off the IV pain meds and give you oral meds instead too.”

“Okay. How soon could I get the IV out?” I ask anxiously.

“How much pain do you feel right now on a one-to-ten scale, one being no pain, ten being you feel like you’re dying?” she asks. I think for a second.

“It’s about a two,” I reply.

“I’ll talk to your doctor. We’ve been slowly reducing the amount of medication going through the IV all night, so we could take it off you as soon as you’re comfortable if he okays it,” she says. I nod.

“I don’t like needles and I want to wear a sweatshirt,” I inform her. “I’d be comfortable taking it out now if I could.” She leaves to go get the doctor as my grandparents enter the room.

“Hi Sawyer,” Grammy says. “Hey sweetheart. The nurse told us you want to get rid of the IV?”

“A. S. A. P.,” I reply. “I can’t have a needle stuck in my arm for much longer.”

“Okay, darling,” she consoles. “The doctor’s coming. Don’t worry.”

“Guess we’d better wait until they’re done with all this to watch the movie,” he suggests. “You said you’re cold?” I nod. “Hang on a minute. I’ll be right back.” He heads out the door. A second later, it opens again.

“Hey, Andrea, how are you?” the doctor asks upon entering, consulting his clipboard. “How’s the knee?”

“It’s okay. I’d like to get the needle out of my arm, though,” I reply. He nods and asks a few questions while he fiddles with the machine I’m hooked up to.

“Well, I’d say we can take you off this bad boy and let you start taking pain meds orally,” he finally announces. “You want me to take it out now?”

“That’d be great,” I reply. He turn off the machine and slowly removes the IV needle from my arm, sticking a bandaid on after.

“Just let a nurse know if you need something,” he replies, exiting.

“So Sawyer’s here,” Grammy observes. I nod.

“He came as soon as visiting hours started,” I reply with out a doubt. “I texted him last night and he couldn’t sleep. He wanted to know I was okay, so I called him and we agreed to watch
Divergent
this morning.”

“Oh, okay,” Grammy replies, smiling. Sawyer enters before I can ask her why she’s looking at me weird.

“Sorry, had to run out to my car for something,” he says. Grammy and Papaw smile at him.

“Well, I guess we’ll leave you to it,” Grammy sighs. “Annie, call us if you need anything. Your parents might call at some point, because we talked to them last night before you woke up.”

“Okay,” I say, nodding. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” they reply, heading out.

“You still cold?” Sawyer asks, standing and putting in the DVD in the player. I nod.

“Yes. It’s like a freaking meat locker in here,” I affirm.

“Here,” he says, grabbing a black mass of fabric from the chair he previously occupied. As he unfolds it, I discover it’s a sweater, which he helps me put on. It’s a big black knit sweater that smells like cologne and a little bit of hair product. The scent is soothing and comforting.

“Thanks,” I say. “If the chairs are uncomfortable, I can scoot over if you want.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he replies, hitting a few buttons on the DVD remote. About five minutes later, he stands up. “Okay, no. I’m not good. These chairs are about as good as rocks for seating. Scoot.” I laugh and scoot over, making room for him to sit. It’s a little squeezed, so he puts his arm around my shoulders. I snuggle into his shoulder, feeling more relaxed than I have in a long time.

A little later, my phone rings. It’s my mom, so Sawyer pauses the movie and decides to go get a soda from the vending machine. He points at me as if asking “you want anything?”, to which I say “Dr. Pepper.” He nods and leaves as I answer. “Hello?”

“Honey! I was so worried about you! Grammy and Papaw said you fell off a roof and dislocated your knee and had to have surgery and-“