We sat in the bleachers, ready to cheer on the blond twin. She started her first race, hurdles, quickly. She was in first place when her toe clipped a hurdle. It went down and so did she. You could hear the crowd gasp. It was a hard fall. It looked bad.
I ran down to the field where she sat on a bench. The blood running down her leg was frightening. There was a lot of it streaming from different cuts. I could see that she skinned her knee from top to bottom. There was blood down her shin where she skinned it. It was hard to see if there was any bruising under the blood.
The school's athletic training cleaned the wound and bandaged it. She clenched her teeth and tried not to cry. The bench was directly across from the spectator bleachers. Everyone who watched her fall was now watching her receive care.
Other girls kept coming over to check on the blond twin. She was embarrassed by the attention. She was mad that she fell. She talked to everyone, but not willingly.
We wanted to leave after her knee was taped up. The weather switched from bright and sunny to cold and dreary. A few rain drops fell. We really wanted to find some warmth. The blond twin wanted to stay. She didn't want to leave her team, even if she was not running the races.
The blond twin alternated between being happy for her teammates, mad that she fell and jealous at their results. Her relay team placed first. She was happy that they did so well, and mad that she wasn't part of the victory.
We finally made it home, where she spent her time texting with friends about her injury. Word of the bloody mess that passed for her knee traveled quickly among her friends. They wanted to know all the details. Before the trainer cleaned the wound, I suggested that she take a picture. The blond twin glared at the time, not interested in documenting her fall. It would have been a great way to explain what happened. I'm not sure any words can adequately explain how gory her leg looked right after the fall.
