T here I was, a starting forward in the biggest, most important soccer game of my Olympic career. With only a minute left, the game was tied. When my teammate made an awesome pass to me, the crowd began chanting my name: “Jenna! Jenna! Jenna!” I knew what I had to do. I looked up at the crowd and waved. I turned left, but there was nowhere to go. The other team had closed in all around me. They towered over me, but I was not afraid, not one bit. I pivoted right and barely squeaked through an opening that was just my size. I heard Mom in the stands screaming her lungs out: “Good job, Jenna! Good job!” All the way down the field, I zigged and zagged and ducked and turned until there was nothing and no one left between me and the biggest, grizzliest goalie I had ever seen. I looked her right in the eyes and growled, “Look out — this one might hurt.” I took a deep breath and kicked with all my might. The ball spun in midair. Then I heard a telephone ring and ring. The ringing grew louder and louder. Coach yelled, “Turn that phone off! Let’s get back to the game!” But the phone kept right on butting into the game.
I opened my eyes and looked around. There were no stadium lights, no roaring Olympic crowd, and no silky red-white-and-blue uniforms. I was wearing my green pj’s with purple monkeys, but not my shin guards. My feet were bare. There were my cleats, right on the closet floor. Outside the window, the sky was still black and the stars were still bright. But the phone
was
ringing.
Who would call in the middle of the night?
A light crept under my door. Without making a peep, I tiptoed over the squeaky board in the hall and into Mom’s room.
Mom was quiet on the phone and listening closely. I sat on the bed beside her and slipped my hand in hers. She squeezed my fingers and rubbed my hair, but didn’t say a word. The house was so hushed, I could hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen. I could hear a car passing down our street.
But I barely heard Mom say, “Thank you for calling.” Then she hung up and turned to look at me.
“What’s happened, Mama? What’s wrong?”
Mom looked right into my face. “Here’s the truth, my big girl. That was the hospital in Pleasant Grove. Earlier tonight, Tannie fell. This time I’m really worried.”
Tannie
’s our name for my great-aunt Britannia; she’s just like me. There is nothing on earth that Tannie can’t do. She drives a pickup truck as big as a barn. She goes to the races all by herself. One time she sang karaoke with Mom and me. She knows how to fly an airplane, and she has her very own motorcycle. She even played soccer a long time ago, way before it was cool.
Have you ever seen an old lady, like Tannie, head a soccer ball?
“What happened this time?” I asked Mom. “Did Tannie throw the lawn mower in the truck again?” The last time she did that, she had taken a nasty spill.
Mom shook her head.
“Did she slip off a tall ladder while painting her house? Or fall from the tractor after cutting hay?”
Mom giggled a little, the way she does when she’s nervous. She shook her head and sighed.
“No, no. This time it was none of those things,” Mom tried to explain. “Tannie, as usual, was moving too fast. She missed a step off the back porch and has broken her ankle.”
“Oh, that’s it? She just fell off the porch?” was all I could think to say. Then finally I asked, “Will Tannie be okay?”
Mom looked worried, and she looked extra tired.
She answered, “Tannie is strong, but her bones have grown more fragile over the years. Her ankle will heal in time. She doesn’t need surgery — that’s the good news.”
“Then, why are you so worried? My teacher broke her ankle and came right back to school, on crutches.”
“It’s not really Tannie’s ankle that worries me; the fracture was stable.”
My mom’s a nurse, and sometimes she talks to me like I work at the hospital, too. I nodded and rubbed my chin as
I opened my eyes and looked around. There were no stadium lights, no roaring Olympic crowd, and no silky red-white-and-blue uniforms. I was wearing my green pj’s with purple monkeys, but not my shin guards. My feet were bare. There were my cleats, right on the closet floor. Outside the window, the sky was still black and the stars were still bright. But the phone
was
ringing.
Who would call in the middle of the night?
A light crept under my door. Without making a peep, I tiptoed over the squeaky board in the hall and into Mom’s room.
Mom was quiet on the phone and listening closely. I sat on the bed beside her and slipped my hand in hers. She squeezed my fingers and rubbed my hair, but didn’t say a word. The house was so hushed, I could hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen. I could hear a car passing down our street.
But I barely heard Mom say, “Thank you for calling.” Then she hung up and turned to look at me.
“What’s happened, Mama? What’s wrong?”
Mom looked right into my face. “Here’s the truth, my big girl. That was the hospital in Pleasant Grove. Earlier tonight, Tannie fell. This time I’m really worried.”
Tannie
’s our name for my great-aunt Britannia; she’s just like me. There is nothing on earth that Tannie can’t do. She drives a pickup truck as big as a barn. She goes to the races all by herself. One time she sang karaoke with Mom and me. She knows how to fly an airplane, and she has her very own motorcycle. She even played soccer a long time ago, way before it was cool.
Have you ever seen an old lady, like Tannie, head a soccer ball?
“What happened this time?” I asked Mom. “Did Tannie throw the lawn mower in the truck again?” The last time she did that, she had taken a nasty spill.
Mom shook her head.
“Did she slip off a tall ladder while painting her house? Or fall from the tractor after cutting hay?”
Mom giggled a little, the way she does when she’s nervous. She shook her head and sighed.
“No, no. This time it was none of those things,” Mom tried to explain. “Tannie, as usual, was moving too fast. She missed a step off the back porch and has broken her ankle.”
“Oh, that’s it? She just fell off the porch?” was all I could think to say. Then finally I asked, “Will Tannie be okay?”
Mom looked worried, and she looked extra tired.
She answered, “Tannie is strong, but her bones have grown more fragile over the years. Her ankle will heal in time. She doesn’t need surgery — that’s the good news.”
“Then, why are you so worried? My teacher broke her ankle and came right back to school, on crutches.”
“It’s not really Tannie’s ankle that worries me; the fracture was stable.”
My mom’s a nurse, and sometimes she talks to me like I work at the hospital, too. I nodded and rubbed my chin as
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