Pushing through the sweaty, lanky bodies of the blondes and brunettes, I caught the eye of our basketball coach. He bit down on his metal whistle like a dog on a bone. His mouth enclosed around it.

He blew.

Head pounding, my hands wiped themselves on my shorts, trying to remove as much of the perspiration as possible.

My feet trampled the block. Then, I shot up to the elbow. My hands screamed as the ball smacked them from the pass.

I eyed the cutter as she hollered for the ball. Not open. From behind, I could hear the rushed footsteps of the screener approaching. I took in a deep breath, and turned, rubbing my defense off on the pick. I cut, smashing the ball against the hard floor, just thinking:

Please don’t mess this up.
I charged, breathing hard. Just then, I could feel my foot catch on a leg. I tried to recover from the trip, but it was too late. I went
      Down
        Down
          Down

People say that time slows, but there was no time to think as I collided with the ground. I held my forearms out to stop my fall. They hit the ground with an agonizing SMACK; but my body kept on going.

My knees then hit, sending bone-shattering pains through my legs. My chest hit next, shooting sharp vibrations that rattled my ribs and electrocuted my spine. I grunted, and then it struck the hard wood.

My head, hitting the ground like they were old enemies, bounced hard and quick. CRACK! Like a meteor hitting the earth and splitting, my head kissed the ground hard.

I laid there for a second, laying across the foot of the player whom I had tripped over, my shoelaces coming untied. Looking up, I groaned, my arms buckling. I stood up, rubbing my elbows. My eyes were blinded by the gym lights. It was as if I had been in a dark room for eight hours, then walked out into a snow-covered field in the morning. My head buzzed and I looked around, dizzy. I wobbled, picking the ball up. My coach approached me as I rubbed my red and white elbows in pain.

“Kayla?” Coach Rosenberry asked, looking at my skinned elbows and knees with a smile on his face. This had happened before. “Ya get your elbows?”

I held my bruised ribs that hurt when I bent over. It hurt, but when I went to the small bump on my head, his smile disappeared.

“Coach,” Avery walked over, moving her feet away from the spot where I had tripped over her. “She landed on her head.” Everyone nodded around, showing that I had hit my head.

“Your head?” Coached looked up at where the bruise was. I nodded. He looked frustrated. “If you have a concussion you can’t play tomorrow.” I scowled, saying a small prayer to myself: Oh God, PLEASE, not another concussion.