I got to lie down and listen to 90's tunes in a set of bulky headphones for about twenty minutes. Occasionally, the man operating it, Steven, would speak to me through the headset, warning me when noises from the machine were coming up, or just checking in. "You're doing great, Riley. Stay completely still."

As relaxing as it may have seemed, my knee was on fire the whole time. I had to keep it really straight and still, with hurt a ton. I felt tears well up in my shut-eyes, but I fought to hold them back. Enough crying for today, right?

The MRI finished, and Steven wheeled my chair in for me to hop on. "Okay, so now we will send the disc to your doctor. He will examine them and let you know what's wrong." I thanked him, and slowly lowered myself into the chair. I bent my knee a little, only because I couldn't fully extend it without pain.

-

Dr. Wagner entered the room with a cd in his hand, my guess is the one Steven talked about. "How'd the MRI go?" He asked before popping the disc into a computer. I shrugged. "Fine. Hurt my knee though." He nodded, understandingly. "Well, we're about to find out why."

My dad gave me a half-hearted smile and massaged my leg carefully. "I'm sorry you're hurting, sweetie. It makes me really sad to see you in pain." My mom and Auggie went back home, seeing as its 8:30 at night by now, and he has school tomorrow. I nodded and reached my hand out to touch my Dad's.

"It's my fault. I'm not built for soccer. My body is not, like, at all athletic." My dad says nothing in response. He looks at Dr. Wagner. "It's loading," the doctor tells us.

The images pop up on the screen. To me they look like a bunch of circles, I can't understand any of it. The doctor looks at me and my father. "Where do you want to start?"

"Huh?" I ask. He tries again, "a part of your knee to look at." I shrugged. I didn't know any. "You do it all, then let me know if there's something wrong."

He nods. "Okay, as you wish."

I try and watch his face, pressed together in focus, for signs as to good or bad. He remains emotionless the entire time. His mouth a thin line.  After a couple minutes he looks away. "Well?" My dad prompts him. The doctor sighs heavily.

"Riley, it isn't good news." My heart falls. How bad?

"Well," he continues, "you tore your ACL. PCL. MCL. LCL. Miniscus, all the way through. Minor tears to the Quadricep and Patellar tendon."

"What does that mean, though? I know nothing about the knee." I shake my head. Dr. Wagner explains. "There are ligaments and tendons in your knee. The connect all your bones to one another. The are what make you walk, run, and even stand. You have it really bad. Almost every single one is torn. You're going to need surgery Riley. Big-time. I can't promise you'll ever play soccer again."

It hit me like a bomb. They needed to cut open my leg and stitch my tendons and ligaments back together. On top of that, I couldn't walk, stand, run, or play soccer. Maybe never again. But the reoccurring thought was the operation. I never knew you could hurt your knee so bad you needed an operation. It was the scariest feeling yet.

I didn't cry. I was in too much shock. My dad did cry though, which was worse than any physical pain. Having somebody tough, like my father, cry over my injury... that was awful.

I was silent. My dad cleared his throat. "How soon?" The doctor looked back at the MRI. "Well... we can do the operation a week from today. Pre-op starts on Sunday though. In the mean time, Riley can go to school with crutches and a brace. She is never to walk on it until the operation, and only remove the brace when sleeping or showering. Is that clear?"

I nod. Silently. Crutches and a brace. What on earth?

Dr. Wagner returned with a ginormous robotic-looking brace a minute later, along with some gray crutches. He fastened the brace on me, which spanned my entire leg. I looked down at the bulky black thing across my knee. Did I really have to wear it to school? I figured I did.

"I'm sorry Riley. I'll see you on Sunday to prepare for the surgery." He waved to my dad and I, then left the room.

My life changed at that moment.