One of these days, Alice...

I think every girl has played out this imaginary scenario: girl gets dumped by boy, girl gets into car accident or some equally scary-but-not-life-threatening scenario. Boy realizes he loves girl and doesn't want to lose girl.

Every girl wants to be rescued.

***

I had my kickball playoffs. My poor, little team who had lost our first six games had finally gotten its act together, performing fabulously in the tournament. We started the tournament tied for last place, but starting a seed higher because we had more runs during the regular season. Then we just kept winning. And now we were playing the number-one team and we were tied and in extra innings.

Statham, his ex-girlfriend and Clemson all stayed behind to watch my game. Statham had a cooler of beer he was working through. Clemson was drinking water because I overheard him say he was hungover again. I spoke a few words to him before the game, but that was all. Most of what I heard about him, I heard through Girl from Irish Pub.

My team was on the field. I was playing catcher, which is a figurehead position without much play interaction. In kickball, the catcher stands next to home plate, not behind home plate. The number-one team's strongest kicker was up. The Leader rolled the ball, the kicker ran towards it and--

THWACK!

I crumpled on the field like a rag doll. My face was on fire. I didn't know this at the time, but the kicker hit the ball as hard as he could and it spliced to foul-ball territory and hit me at point-blank range in the face. The umpire came up to me after the game and shook my hand and told me he's never seen anyone take a ball that hard.

I was sprawled on the field, clutching my face and not knowing why. My sunglasses were lying on the grass a few feet from me. I sat up. I was surrounded by five men. I had no idea how they got to me so quickly. It's just like the movies where you look up and see a circle of faces peering down on you. I saw the Leader, the umpire, the kicker, the captain of my team and the guy who rubbed my back in this post.

The Leader crouched down in front of me. "Are you okay?" he asked.

I sat there laughing. It's my default emotion. "Am I bleeding?" I asked.

"No, but move your hands so I can see," he urged.

"Are you sure I'm not bleeding?" I asked between giggles.

"No, but take your hands off your mouth."

I could see myself in the reflection of his sunglasses. I wasn't bleeding, but I looked terrified. I slowly took my hands off my mouth. It was swollen; I could already feel that.

"You're fine," he smiled. "You just have 'kickball' stamped across your forehead."

I laughed again. Only this time a tear slid down my cheek. It was involuntary; my face was burning.

"Do you think I could go sit down for a minute?" I asked. I was disoriented. I couldn't think straight.

One of the guys reached his hand down and pulled me up from the ground. The kicker profusely apologized and I said everything was fine. I took that hit like a champ. A girl from the other team brought me a beer, saying it was cold and to put it on my face to help with the swelling.

I worked my way to the fence in the shade. As I passed Clemson and his friend, his friend said he knew I was okay because he could hear me laughing on the ground. Clemson never said a word to me.

I sat down with my legs stretched out in front of me, rolling the beer can across my mouth before drinking from it. I broke my kisser. Clemson didn't look over and ask if I was okay. The one time this shit happens to me and he's actually present for it. Here's my traumatic-but-not-life-threatening scenario. I realized I wanted him to care. I wanted him to be the first person crouching in front of me, looking over me and making sure I was okay, not The Leader.

But he wasn't.

Also, guess who scored the tie-breaking run and won the game? This girl. He didn't have anything to say about that either.