The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the Crestwood Academy football field. The evening air was filled with the distant hum of traffic and the faint cheers of students lingering after practice. Avery trudged onto the field, her arms weighed down with a trash bag and a grabber tool.
“Why is it always me?” she muttered under her breath, her eyes scanning the empty bleachers for discarded bottles and snack wrappers.
It wasn’t her fault the principal had caught her daydreaming during history class, but as usual, the punishment had been swift: clean up the football field after practice. Avery adjusted the cuffs of her blazer and sighed, determined to get it over with as quickly as possible.
The football team was still on the field, laughing and joking around as practice wrapped up. Ryan Hayes, Crestwood’s star quarterback, stood at the center of the group, spinning a football in his hands like it was a trophy. His presence was magnetic, and his teammates gravitated toward him, hanging on every word and laughing at every joke.
Avery kept her head down, hoping to stay unnoticed as she moved along the sidelines, picking up crumpled water bottles and candy wrappers.
“Hey, Hayes!” one of the players shouted. “Bet you can’t hit that garbage can from here!”
Ryan smirked, his confidence practically radiating. “Please, that’s too easy,” he said, tossing the football into the air and catching it effortlessly.
“Then make it harder,” another player teased. “Hit… I dunno, something moving!”
Ryan’s eyes scanned the field, his smirk widening as they landed on Avery. She was crouched down near the bleachers, completely unaware of the attention shifting her way.
“Hold my Gatorade,” Ryan said, his voice dripping with bravado.
The other players hooted and hollered as Ryan took a few steps back, winding up for the throw.
Avery straightened, tossing a handful of trash into her bag and brushing her hair out of her face. She didn’t hear the laughter or the murmurs behind her. She didn’t see Ryan lining up his throw. All she knew was that one moment, she was standing there, and the next—
THWACK.
The football hit her squarely in the face with a force that sent her stumbling backward. Pain exploded across her nose and mouth, and before she could even cry out, the world tilted and went black.
“Avery!” someone shouted, but the voice sounded distant, muffled.
Chaos erupted on the field. Players rushed over, their laughter quickly replaced by gasps and murmurs. Ryan stood frozen, the smirk wiped clean off his face, replaced by a look of wide-eyed shock.
“Dude,” one of his teammates whispered. “What did you just do?”
Ryan blinked, his usual cocky demeanor slipping as he stepped forward. “I… I didn’t mean to,” he stammered, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. “It was an accident.”
Avery lay crumpled on the ground, her trash bag spilling its contents around her. Blood trickled from her nose and split lip, stark against her pale skin. One of the players knelt beside her, checking her pulse.
“She’s out cold,” the player said grimly. “Somebody call for help!”
Another player whipped out his phone, dialing 911 as the group hovered anxiously around Avery’s unconscious form. Ryan stood a few feet away, running a hand through his hair. His teammates exchanged uneasy glances, but no one dared to say what they were all thinking: this was his fault.
“Dude, why’d you even throw it at her?” one of the players finally asked.
Ryan glared at him, his defensive tone kicking in. “It wasn’t supposed to hit her! I wasn’t even aiming for her face.”
“Well, you did,” the player shot back.
The sound of sirens cut through the tension minutes later. Paramedics arrived, wheeling a stretcher onto the field as the players stepped back to give them space. Avery was gently lifted onto the stretcher, her face swollen and bruised, her breathing shallow.
Ryan couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. A pang of guilt twisted in his chest, but he masked it with indifference, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Hayes,” one of the players said, nudging him. “You should probably, like… say something to her family or something.”
Ryan shook his head. “It was an accident. It’s not like I did it on purpose.”
The player frowned but didn’t press further. Ryan’s bravado had always been his shield, and even now, it was impossible to tell whether he was genuinely unbothered or just hiding his fear.
The paramedics wheeled Avery toward the waiting ambulance, her head lolling to the side. Janice came sprinting across the field, her face pale and panicked.
“What happened?!” she demanded, glaring at the group of players.
Ryan opened his mouth to respond, but one of the others beat him to it. “Hayes was showing off and… he hit her.”
Janice’s eyes blazed as she turned to Ryan. “You hit her? Are you serious right now?”
“It was an accident,” Ryan said defensively.
“An accident?” Janice repeated, her voice rising. “She’s unconscious, you absolute moron! What were you even thinking?”