17. Quentin
Chapter seventeen
Quentin
As Kelsey and I walked back to my car to head home, I heard someone cuss and quickly recognized the voice as Raphael Ortegas.
His car was parked next to mine. The hood was up, and Ortegas had rolled up his sleeves, motor oil covering his hands.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” he yelled and gave the car a kick. “Not today. Out of all days.”
“That doesn’t look good,” Kelsey said. “Do you know the guy?”
“I do, actually. He’s my mother’s nurse. And the father of one of my students.”
“Maybe we should lend a hand.”
“How much do you know about cars?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Yeah, same here,” I admitted, but I still felt offering assistance was the right thing to do. “Mr. Ortegas, is everything alright? ”
“Oh, Mr. Avery, hello.” He wiped the sweaty hair out of his face, leaving a trace of motor oil on his forehead. “Damn car won’t start, and Sebastian’s game is today.”
“Game? A soccer game?”
“A really important one! It’s the regional final or something. I’m not sure. But it’s really, really important for Sebby, and I promised him I’d be there.”
“When does the game start?”
“Five o’clock,” Ortegas said, sounding defeated.
I glanced at my watch. “That’s half an hour from now.”
“I know,” he groaned. “And the stupid car decided to go bust. I’ll have to take the bus. I’ll never make it in time.”
Kelsey nudged my shoulder. “We can drive you.” She turned toward me. “Right?”
Ortegas looked at me hopefully. “Would you do this?”
I didn’t have to be asked twice. Events like that could make or break a relationship between a child and a parent. I would do everything in my power to get him to that soccer game, for Sebastian’s sake.
“Absolutely,” I said as I unlocked the doors. “Get in. If we go right now, we might still make it in time.”
“Yes! Thank you!” Ortegas slammed the hood of his car shut.
In a hurry, we climbed into the car. Kelsey took the front seat, and Ortegas sat in the back.
“Thank you for doing this,” Ortegas said again as I pulled out of the nursing home’s parking lot. “Thank you, too, Mrs. Avery.”
Mrs. Avery? The words hit me like a bullet, and I tensed up, but Kelsey just laughed.
“Did you hear what he just called me?”
“We’re just neighbors,” I explained quickly.
“And friends,” Kelsey added .
“Yes, and friends.” I was really starting to like the sound of that word.
We had to fight the afternoon traffic. I knew the route, and I knew a few shortcuts, but it would be a close call, and Mr. Ortegas announcing the time every four to five minutes wasn’t helping.
After a white-knuckle drive, I finally pulled the car into my assigned parking spot at Brightwater High at 4:57 p.m.
“We’ve made it!” Ortegas threw the door open and nearly got caught in his seat belt. “Thank you so much!”
“Just go. Hurry,” I said with a wave of my hand. “Make sure to sit in the front row so Sebastian can see you.”
With a final nod, Ortegas hurried away and disappeared in the flock of students and parents, all decked out in the school colors, navy blue and red.
I let out a relieved sigh, feeling the tension in my shoulders dissipate. “Sorry for the detour,” I told Kelsey. “I hope this didn’t make you late for anything. I’ll take you home right away.”
“What? Are we not staying for the game?”
“I wasn’t planning to. No.”
Kelsey gestured toward the bustling crowds making their way toward the soccer field. The sound of cheers and excited chatter filled the air with anticipation. “Looks like this game is going to be a really big deal,” she said. “Don’t you want to show some school spirit?”
“School spirit? I’m the social studies teacher. That’s not part of my job description.”
“Oh, come on, this will be fun!”
I raised an eyebrow, genuinely taken aback. “Wait, you actually want to stay and watch the game?”
Kelsey’s face lit up. “Yes.”
“You want to watch two dozen lanky teenagers run after a ball?”
“Yes! ”
Her enthusiasm and excitement were impossible to withstand. I turned the car off with a chuckle. “Let’s go, then.”
I’d been living in Brightwater most of my life. I went to school here myself, but I was still astonished at how big a deal sports were. Half the town was here, the bleachers were packed, and for a moment, I thought we would have to watch the game standing, but then a group of my students called me.
“Mr. Avery, over here! You and your wife can sit over here!”
Kelsey just grinned as the teens moved to make room for us. That was the second time someone had mistaken her for my wife. Were they all blind? As if a man like me could ever convince a woman like Kelsey Wallace to marry me. I didn’t feel especially motivated to discuss my pitiful love life with my students, though, so I didn’t correct them and took my place in silence.
The kids around us, however, weren’t silent at all. The cheering, shouting, and howling as the home team jogged onto the pitch was deafening. And Kelsey joined right in.
I watched in amusement as Kelsey whistled and yelled along with my students. “Go team! Go…” She turned toward me and whispered in my ear, “What’s the team called?”
“The Knights.”
“Go Knights!”
I laughed. “You are actually enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“You bet,” Kelsey said. “I played softball in high school. I wasn’t a very good player, though. Mainly stuck around so I could have this.” She gestured around. “I love the atmosphere of sports games. Concerts, too, but sport is even better.”
The student sitting next to me blew a small but very shrill plastic whistle, and I winced.
“It’s not really your thing, though, huh?” Kelsey asked .
I shrugged. “As long as the kids are having a good time.”
“Speaking of kids. Which one is Ortegas’s boy?”
I scanned the field, searching for Sebastian. “The dark-haired one with the number eighteen.”
“Go, Sebastian!” Kelsey shouted, her voice blending into the chorus of support.
Despite my usual aversion to crowds and loud noises, I couldn’t help but enjoy Kelsey’s infectious enthusiasm. She cheered on the Brightwater Knights like they were about to win the World Cup. Her passion scored her some points with my students, too, who apparently thought she was cool and fun.
I knew little about soccer, but I tried to follow the game as best as I could. Even with my lack of expertise, I could tell Sebastian was an outstanding player. Before the halftime whistle, he scored one very impressive goal and played the scoring pass for another.
When the second half started, the Knights were ahead three to one. Just seconds after the ball was back in play, Sebastian managed to steal it from a much larger opponent. The crowd cheered him on as he dribbled along the sidelines, avoiding a defender with a nifty trick play and sprinting past him toward the goal.
The last opposing defender ran straight at him, but Sebastian dribbled past him with little effort. The defender charged after him, went to the ground, and slid, feet first, right into Sebastian’s heels. I sucked in a sharp breath. A brutal tackle! The sound of impact could be heard even above the noise the spectators made. When Sebastian stumbled to the ground, the crowd screamed in protest. The referee immediately whistled, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see he was scolding the defender. He even pulled a red card out of his pocket, but my attention was focused on Sebastian rolling on the ground in pain .
His teammates rushed to him, and one of the boys tried to help him up, but his left leg buckled the moment he tried to put weight on it.
Kelsey and I exchanged a concerned look.
“I think he’s hurt,” she said.
Two of the players had wrapped their arms around Sebastian and helped him hobble off the field. In the crowd, I could make out Raphael Ortegas making his way down the bleachers, toward the sideline.
“I think we should get down there too,” I said. “It doesn’t look like Sebastian will be able to take the bus home.”
We said our goodbyes to my students and climbed down the stairs.
When we arrived at the sidelines, Sebastian was sitting on the ground, his face contorted in pain.
His father crouched beside him, his face fraught with worry, while Coach Jacobs was prodding Sebastian’s knee.
“Absolutely dirty play,” the coach seethed. “That kid should be banned for the rest of the season. They deliberately crippled my star player!”
“Crippled?” Sebastian repeated meekly.
Kelsey gently pulled Coach Jacobs away from Sebastian, stopping him from further aggravating his injury.
“I think we should put some ice on that knee, Coach,” she said.
He ran his hand through his hair. “Of course. Ian, get an ice pack,” he said before taking a second look. “Who are you?”
“A friend of mine,” I answered, stepping forward.
Evan only then seemed to notice me. His eyes darted back and forth between me and Kelsey, clearly surprised. “Quentin, I didn’t know you had a… friend. What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I’m here to give Mr. Ortegas and his son a ride back home.”
When Evan furrowed his brows in confusion, I just shrugged. “It’s a long story.”
Next to us, Kelsey was inspecting Sebastian’s leg up close. “Quentin, I think it would be better if we took him to a hospital. His knee is starting to swell pretty badly.”
Sebastian shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I’ll just cool it with ice for a few minutes, and then I can get back into the game.”
Ortegas grabbed his son’s shoulder. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Sebby. She’s right, we should get this looked at by a doctor.”
“But it’s the regional final! I can’t miss that! The guys need me.”
Evan sighed. “We do need you, but your dad and Mr. Avery’s girlfriend here are right. You need to go to the hospital.”
“No, I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt that bad anymore.”
I crouched down next to him. “Be smart, Sebastian. You won’t be any help to your team if you can’t give one hundred percent. And you risk long-term damage if you put further strain on that injury. I know it’s terrible, but you need to be mature about this.”
Sebastian took a deep breath, then he let himself fall backward into the grass, covering his face with his hands. “This really sucks,” he groaned.
I patted his shoulder. “Come on. Your dad and I will help you to my car.”