Sarah
had just started the ninth grade two weeks before. She had moved up from Hillsboro Middle School
where almost all the eighth graders moved on to a new high school in the district. Just Sarah and two of her classmates moved up
to ninth grade at Fairview High School.
The rest of the freshman class had come from Fairview Middle
School. Needless to say, Sarah did not
know very many students.
But
Sarah is a very outgoing, funny, friendly, dramatic young lady and it was not
long before she met a new group of friends.
Her first best friend at her new high school was Samantha.
Earlier
in the week, Sarah had tried out and made the Varsity Volleyball team for the
high school. It looked as though she was
going to get to start as well, even as a freshman. The year was off to a very good start for
her.
As
a family, we all went to the home high school football games during the fall
semester. My husband and I sit together,
and typically the kids run off to hang out with their friends. The second football game of the season was no
different.
It
was half way through the second quarter when Samantha ran up to me, out of
breath, and looking panicked. She said,
“Miss Diane, Sarah fell down the hill over by the concession stand and she hurt
her ankle.” I considered this through my
filter of the dozens of times that Sarah had been “hurt” before. So I asked Samantha, “Samantha, are there
boys nearby Sarah right now?” She
replied in the affirmative. I said, “I
bet she is only trying to get their attention and it is probably working quite
well. I’m sure she’s not too hurt. Give her a minute and I’m sure she’ll be up
and running around in no time.”
Samantha
looked at me with resignation written on her face and then she ran back to
Sarah. My husband and I continued to
watch the boys play football and the girls cheer.
It
wasn’t four minutes later, that I saw Samantha running back up the bleacher
stairs towards me. “Miss Diane, she
really is hurt. She can’t put any
pressure on her foot when she tries to stand.
She also can’t stop crying.” Well
I have been with Sarah on so many occasions where she just is not as hurt as
she is claiming to be. Samantha has only
been Sarah’s friend for two weeks; she can’t possibly know that Sarah’s a great
actress and loves to be the center of attention. I try again to explain it to Samantha, “I’m sure she is just overreacting. She’ll be fine in a few minutes.” I really did not want to walk over to find that
she was not injured at all.
Off
Samantha ran to find Sarah again. Two
minutes later, Samantha is running up the bleacher stairs once again towards
us. However, this time she says, Mr.
Billy, Sarah is really hurt. Can you
please come and help her?” I smiled that
she’d given up on me and started to work on my husband.
I
didn’t want my husband to miss any of the game, so I got up and walked down the
bleachers with her, over by the concession stand, and half way up the
hill.
There
was my sweet, little 14 year old daughter lying on the ground, obviously in
immense pain with her leg outstretched before her. There were a lot of kids hanging around and
even a few adults looking at her ankle.
I started to think that maybe she actually was hurt.
As
I approached, I could definitely see where the ankle bone was protruding from
its normal position into the skin. This
was far more serious than I could have imagined. I asked Samantha to run back and get Sarah’s
dad and find her little brother. We
loaded her up in the car and drove her to the emergency room as fast as we
could. I felt like the world’s worst
mom.
Through
her tears, she asked me why it took me so long to get over to help her. I felt horrible. I tried to explain that so many times before;
she would say she was hurt, but that it ended up being her just trying to get attention. But my weak excuse did not mean much in this
situation. No matter how dramatic she
may be, I should have listened to Samantha and at least checked out the
situation. Sarah sat there in enormous
pain, while I had done nothing.
Sarah
did have a broken ankle. She was on
crutches and in a brace for the next 6 weeks.
No Varsity Volleyball team and no running around at football games for
nearly two months. It was quite frustrating
for her to try to carry books to class with crutches in both hands.
I
apologized to Samantha and did my best to explain why I had balked the first two
times she said that Sarah was hurt. I’m
sure Samantha thought I was a horrible mom.
It turned out as I said though.
Because of Sarah’s ankle injury, she was definitely the center of
attention that night at the high school football game.
(c) 2013 Tribal Tales (c) 2013 Diane LeJeune and Feeling Good Entertainment, LLC
