A Good Boy Is Hard to Find (The Naughty List #3)(9)

But what worried me the most was that if my ankle really was broken, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to cheer us through this at all.

“Didn’t we just see you here a few months ago, Ms. Crimson?” the doctor asked. He was the same one who had stitched up my forehead when Chloe had hit me with an alarm clock in our less than classy fight over Aiden.

I nodded, wishing he would just give me a painkiller already. My ankle felt like it was pulsing in my brain. I’d convinced Leona to drop me off because the waiting room was packed with coughing patients. She had asthma and feared anything viral. So she told me to call her if I needed a ride. Instead, I gave the nurse my parent’s number.

Now that I was here in this sterile white room, I’d really started to feel the impact of my situation. What would Blaze and the other guys of Washington High do to punish us? The possibilities were endless.

“Seems you’re accident prone.” Dr. Lewis smirked, deep laugh lines creasing around his mouth. He put the x-ray on that light box thingy and examined it.

“Is it broken?”

He sighed heavily. “Yes, young lady. It is. But it looks like a clean break, no fragments. But you’ll be off your feet, possibly the next three months, depending on how you heal.”

The Empire Strikes Back! How would I ever cheer again? “Three months?” I was about to hyperventilate. In fact, if my foot wasn’t in such extreme pain, I might have passed out. I put my hands over my face and waited for the room to stop spinning.

“Now, now,” the doctor said. “Don’t get yourself worked up.”

I shook my head, dropping my arms. “But … I have so much to do. ESPN is coming to do a spotlight on the Wildcats-Ducks game! How am I—”

“Really?” Dr. Lewis asked, suddenly interested. “Do you know which broadcasters will be there?”

I stared at him. Was the doc seriously more worried about ESPN than my nonability to cheer? What about the Hippocratic oath? I pushed my head back into the pillow and closed my eyes.

This was a double dash of a disaster.

“Nurse,” he called out calmly. Just then a solid woman with cute cat-eye glasses came in, rolling a metal tray behind her. “I think Ms. Crimson can have her pain shot now.”

“Give me something to knock me out instead.” I couldn’t help the tears from leaking out of my eyes. Without a leg to stand on, I was a useless captain. Oh, no. Maybe Chloe really would replace me!

Ouch!

“Sorry, honey,” the nurse said, removing the needle from my arm. “Small pinch.”

“Not so small.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Dr. Lewis laughed as he stood up from his stool. “This shot will do the trick. Elaine here said she’s been trying to get a hold of your parents, but they’re not answering. Is there someone I should call for a ride?”

“Um …” I wasn’t sure where my parents were, but I knew Leona would pick me up. Suddenly, warmth spread over me. “Wow,” I said. “That’s good stuff.”

The doctor chuckled. “Someone to call?”

I lifted my head, about to give him Leona’s number when a very tall, blond guy walked in. “I’ll take her home,” Aiden said. I giggled. That was silly. What was he doing here?

“And who are you?” the doctor asked, looking back and forth between us.

My head was heavy so I rested it back onto the table, no longer able to hold it up. I was just drifting off when I heard myself murmur, “He’s my boyfriend.”

CODE PINK—HIGH ALERT

Dear Smitten Kittens,

As you may have heard, SOS has been compromised. I repeat, we have been compromised. This high-alert status is due to the possible backlash from the male population of Washington County.

So for now, do not discuss SOS with ANYONE! Take the high road and walk away if they’re harassing you. And definitely, definitely do not call them an “ass-faced pieces of trash”. (Good one, Kira!)

Keep smiling,

Leona : )

Chapter 5

“Tessa?”

My mother’s voice hummed in my ear. My eyelids fluttered, and when I opened them, she was there, stress painting her face in shades of gray. Which wasn’t vibrant at all, I decided.

“Mom? They said they couldn’t get a hold of you.”

“We were going over the bridge, and you know how spotty reception is there. But we called the second we heard and raced over here. We nearly got a ticket.”

“Your mother drives like a maniac.”

I looked over to see my dad grinning in a chair in the corner. Of course, my mother rarely drove when they went out so I knew he was just teasing. My father was known to get tickets occasionally. Occasionally enough that the local sheriff called him Smokey and the Bandit. Which I totally didn’t get! My dad didn’t smoke. And who the hay was the Bandit? He sounded mean.

Just then Dr. Lewis strolled in, a clipboard and papers in his hand. He explained to my parents about the clean break and how I’d have to come back to get it cast because the orthopedic doctor wasn’t there and that I might require surgery.

Surgery! That was not a good sign. I had tryouts to watch over (and a captainship to hang on to). How could I properly prep us for ESPN and deal with the fallout of SOS exposure if I was having surgery? It would be a tragedy of epic proportions.