I slowly open my eyes. My mind goes blank, and I can't remember anything... where am I? Then I look at my arm, an IV needle wedged in the crook of my elbow. Oh, right. Then searing pain consumes my leg. I look down at my knee, an even higher brace enclosing my leg. This one, white, and propped up. I can't help but help out a tiny groan of pain. Dr. Wagner appears at my bed side. I see him take off two blue plastic gloves. I wince at the blood on them. My own.

"Riley," he says, placing his hand on my shoulder. "Your surgery was a success. How does your knee feel?" I exhale and gather my words, "hurts." Is all I manage, and I feel the tears roll down my cheeks. I squint my eyes hard, hoping to keep them away.

"I'm sorry, that's expected, though." He turns to one of the nurses. "Can we get some pain killers? Now?" A nurse scurries over with a tray full of pills. I still can't fully register what's happening, the pain and sleepiness using most of my energy. I'm handed a water cup and I half-heartedly slip them down my throat. "You'll feel better soon," the doctor reassures me.

Before I know what's happening,  a nurse is pulling off my hair net. "What was that for?" I ask her, sitting up. "To keep your hair away." "When you were working on my leg?" My brown hair falls down my shoulders, rubbing against the plastic hospital gown. "Now let's take that off, your mother brought up some pajamas for you." I then realize I can't get dressed by myself. I feel a little... no, a lot, self conscious about this. I just close my eyes as she slips the hospital gown off, only my under garments remain. She slips some stretchy patterned pajama shorts up over my clunky robo-leg, the she slips my old I 🖤 NYC hoodie over my head. "Better? More comfy, right?" I nod. In all the pain, it actually does feel good to be surrounded in familiar warmth.

My bed starts moving again, and the brightly lit room vanishes, and a more warm-lighted hallway. I catch my mom out of the corner of my eye. She rushes over to my hospital bed, giving me a hug. "How are you feeling, Riley?" I just shrug, but give her a smile, so she knows I'll be okay. She calls over my dad. He hugs me too. "Oh, and I've got a surprise for you." He ushers over Maya, Zay, Farkle, Smackle, Auggie, and Lucas. "They took the second half of their school day off to come see you." Maya grabs my hand. I smile at her. "God, look at your leg, peaches." Farkle gives her a quick smack on the arm, "Stop, Maya." I shake my head, "No, she's fine." I peer over the brace to see my knee. It's covered with scars, crossing each other like roads on a map. I shut my eyes. "Will this eve there forever?" I ask the nurse. She sighs, "we're going to cover them in a moment, and the stitches, well we can take those out in a couple days. The scars will fade, but, yes. Essentially, you'll have them forever." I wince. Just another thing to show how weak I am.

______

The nurse has covered my scars, and Doctor Wagner has come to check on me. "Okay, let me introduce you to my friend, Mr. Steven Cal." Steven walks in the room. He has dark skin and hair, but his eyes aren't dark. They're kind. I can tell he's here to help me. "Riley Matthews, right?" He shakes my hand, I nod. "You can call me Steve." He looks around at the people surrounding me in the room. "You must be a great person, Riley. All these people love you enough to come out here and see you today." He smiles at me. "Unfortunately, you need to start physical therapy immediately. I'm your therapist. And, well, people can easily distract you. I want zero outside influences. So, me and you are going for a walk." I raise my eyebrows. Walking? He chuckles at my puzzled complexion. "No, you can't bare weight for the next couple weeks, you'll be on crutches. Come on."

He comes to my bedside, and very, very meticulously he lifts my braces leg up. I gasp I pain. It shoots up and down my leg. "It's alright, pains expected. Actually, I've never worked with any patient whose been pain-free at their first movement. He motions for Dr. Wagner, who bares my crutches. Steve slowly rotates my body so my legs are off the bedside. He still holds my reconstructed leg. The doctor slips the crutches under my armpits. I stand up on my good knee. The other one forcing me to grimace in pain just dangling. "Thank you, Doctor." Steve holds on to my back to support me. "Ready?" I crutch my way towards the doorway, unsteady even though his hands are stabilizing me. I put no weight on my bad knee, yet the pain won't quit it. I crutch out of the room. A changed athlete. Yes, I'm a soccer player. I'm going to recover, and I'm going to play soccer again. I know because somethings are worth fighting for.