Chapter 2 - Lynette
Five years before
BRIAN HOLDS OUT A BOTTLE of water to me and I push it away. It’s offensive. How can he even think of my needs when Abby is out there burning up on the soccer field?
I march toward Coach Fred, but the moment he sees me he shakes his head in dismay and turns his attention back to the field, as if I don’t exist. “She needs to come out! Take her out!”
I don’t care if all the parents are rolling their eyes. They find me annoying. That much has been obvious from the moment I set foot on the soccer field for Abby’s first game six months ago.
Abby had been begging me to let her play a sport, but the only two sports she was interested in were soccer and basketball. Well, I’ve heard enough horror stories about basketball players with bad hearts collapsing on the court and never waking up. I denied her request for two years until I couldn’t take the begging anymore. I told her I’d let her play soccer if she played a defensive position. I didn’t factor the Carolina humidity into my decision.
It may be the end of November, but Abby’s asthma always acts up more during cool weather. And if she’s having trouble breathing, she’s going to pass out soon. Her heart just isn’t equipped to deal with that kind of stress.
She’s standing two hundred feet away from me and, even from this distance, I can see her cheeks are a vibrant red and her mouth is hanging open with exhaustion. But she’s one of the team’s best defenders, so Coach Fred thinks I’m overreacting. She couldn’t play so well if there was anything wrong with her, right?
Wrong. Abby may look like a normal, slightly smaller-than-average thirteen-year-old girl, but she is far from normal, as much as she hates being reminded of that. Right now, her heart is being crushed under the task of trying to keep her body cool and pump oxygen into her lungs. She’s going to pass out if I don’t get her off that field.
Coach Fred turns to me, his already wrinkled lips pursed in severe disapproval, a look that probably worked on recruits when he was in the military, but it doesn’t intimidate me one bit. “There is one minute and forty seconds left in the game.”
“I don’t care. Call a timeout.”
“Mrs. Jensen, I am going to have to ask you to please let me do my job. These kids have been working too long for this.”
“Lynette, come on.” Brian clasps his large hand around the crook of my elbow. “It’s almost over.”
“Are you kidding me?” I wrench my arm free and shoot him a scathing glare.
The referee’s whistle blows and we all turn toward the field. Abby is holding up her arm, the way they’re taught to do if they’re injured. I manage to take three steps onto the field before she collapses on the grass.
I race toward her, but Brian and the referee beat me there. Brian immediately pours cool water on her face and chest as I dial 911. We’ve never had to deal with this particular scenario before, but we’ve had to call an ambulance enough times to have the routine down. Brian roars at the crowd forming around us to disperse.
“She needs air! Move back!”
I fall to my knees next to her, spouting off the location and the facts to the 911 operator. “Eastgate Park, the east side entrance on Wingate Drive. Thirteen-year-old female with severe heatstroke.”
“No, not heatstroke!” Brian bellows. “Cardiac arrest! She’s in cardiac arrest!”