The Last Dance by Kiki Hamilton Read Free Book Online Page A

didn’t swear very often. She made up imaginary swear words instead, like ‘shizzle’ or ‘holy chicken head’. I cleared my throat. “Apparently he doesn’t think so.”
    “That’s because he doesn’t know.” She glanced over her shoulder to see who was behind us in the hall before she continued in a whisper. “I heard that Laurel’s been seeing Josh Hendershot behind Q’s back.” Mira made a hissing noise in the back of her throat. The sound always reminded me of a vampire but it was her way of verbalizing her utmost disgust. “Cheating on someone while they’re in a coma—that is seriously cold.”
    “Yeah. Downright bitchy.” I, on the other hand, had no problem with swear words. I looped my arm through hers and pulled her around the corner into the commons that led to the orchestra room. “But the good news is—it’s not our problem.”

Chapter Ten
    Kellen
    I had to go home in a wheelchair. It was like my brain wasn’t connected to my body anymore. The docs scheduled me for physical therapy five days a week because I need to strengthen my right arm and leg. Not to mention my fingers. My handwriting looked worse than a first grader’s.
    They also gave me a journal. A going-away present, I guess. Told me to start with today and write something every day. But I started with the day of the homecoming game. That’s when everything changed.
    Usually I only write a line or two because it takes forever, though it’s hardly legible. My right hand won’t work and I can’t write for crap with my left. I guess this way I don’t have to worry about anyone reading it.
    Thank God I could communicate with my friends by texting. Sort of.
    I kept hoping this was all a nightmare and maybe I’d wake up.
    MY MOM TOOK another week off work to stay home with me and drive me to physical therapy since I couldn’t drive my truck yet. The work-outs were grueling, but I was used to it after all the years I’d trained for football, basketball and baseball. At least I could take my frustration out on the machines. But in the end, they always kicked my butt.
    Then there was my homework. Ollie and CJ were taking turns bringing my assignments over to the house for me. They knew how bad things were now. How my leg and arm were messed up. How tough it was to talk clearly. They promised they wouldn’t tell.
    I’d discouraged anybody else from stopping by, though it was nice to know so many people cared and wanted to help. Some of the kids from school even put up a ‘Welcome Home Kellen’ banner across our front porch.
    School had always come easy for me. I had a decent grade point average—a 3.8— because I wanted to have options after football. Secretly, I’d always toyed with the idea of being a doctor one day. After my football career, that is. But I’d never killed myself to get straight A’s, though I’m pretty sure I could if I wanted. Now, I can’t seem to remember anything I’d read and trying to think my way through a simple math problem gave me a headache.
    At this rate, I’d be lucky if I kept a 2.8 gpa.
    LAUREL CAME BY TODAY.
    I had just returned from PT so I was really tired. When I got tired, nothing seemed to work very well. My right leg dragged, my fingers wouldn’t do what I wanted and my speech was more slurred than usual.
    I was flopped across the couch, watching ESPN, still in my sweats and pitted-out t-shirt. I was too tired to try and navigate a shower.
    My mom answered the doorbell. I could tell when she came into the family room and cleared her throat that it wasn’t CJ or Ollie. I pushed myself up with my good arm and peered over the back of the couch.
    I’d never seen Laurel look better than she did right then. Her blonde hair was brushed back away from her face as if blown by the wind. We’d had a stretch of sunny fall weather and she was wearing a pair of beige shorts and a light blue jacket. Her legs were long and tan. As she walked toward me it was like one of those slo-mo