Free Paralyzed by Jeff Rud

hurt.”
    I was relieved to hear that. At least the athletic district believed me.
    â€œNevertheless,” said Mr. Danton, “the district has procedures it must follow. In cases like this, where there is an official complaint, we are compelled to hold a hearing. So that’s what I’m here to inform you about, Reggie.”
    A hearing? Sounded more like a trial to me.
    â€œWhat for?” I said, my voice squeaking. “I mean, you just said that it was an accident.”
    Coach Clark interrupted. “Reggie, it’s just procedure,” he said. “The hearing will be at the athletic district office on Thursday morning at nine AM. It will give you a chance to explain yourself in front of Nate’s parents. I’m sure once they hear your side, everything will be fine.”
    â€œThat’s right, Reggie,” Mr. Danton said. “You have nothing to worry about here. I’ll see you Thursday.”
    He got up to leave. I said good-bye, and he walked out the door with Coach Clark.I remained in my chair and mulled over this latest news. Now I understood where the
Times
got the information about a suspension. It had probably come directly from Nate’s mom.
    I was just leaving the office when Coach Clark returned. “Try to relax, Reggie,” he said soothingly. “This will all blow over soon.”
    I told the coach about going to see Dr. MacIntyre that morning and about how I had popped in to visit Nate Brown. I also told him about my second run-in with Nate’s mother.
    â€œThat’s great news about Nate,” the coach said, a wide smile creasing his square face. “That must make you feel better, hey, kid?”
    â€œYeah, but it didn’t feel very good to have his mom screaming at me again,” I replied. “She hates me, Coach.”
    â€œShe doesn’t hate you, Reggie. She just hates what’s happened to her son. We’ll doeverything we can at this hearing to smooth things over. In the meantime, let’s get you back on the football field this afternoon.”
    With everything that had gone on this morning, I had forgotten about practice. And all of a sudden, for the first time in more than a week, I realized I was actually looking forward to putting on the pads again.

chapter twelve
    By Wednesday morning, my life seemed to be getting back to something approaching normal. Practice had gone okay on Monday and Tuesday. I still wasn’t hitting as hard as I usually did, but at least I was hitting again.
    My anxiety about Nate Brown had decreased too. Although I was still concerned that he wasn’t walking yet, it had been terrific news to hear that he had feeling back in his legs and feet. And thefact that he wasn’t angry at me had been a major relief.
    On Wednesday morning, when Mom dropped me off at Dr. MacIntyre’s office for my second appointment, I wasn’t sure what we were going to talk about. Now that Nate was on the road to recovery, I felt better about football. Not completely normal, but better.
    â€œGood morning, Reggie,” Dr. MacIntyre said as he called me into his office. The trophies gleamed from behind his desk. One large plaque that hung on the wall behind his chair caught my eye.
Pac-10 Conference Defensive Player of the Year
, it read.
    â€œDid you play football?” I asked. The psychologist had an athletic build, but it had never occurred to me that he might have been a serious football player.
    â€œA little,” he said modestly. “I was a middle linebacker for ucla back in the eighties. I played at Lincoln too. Just like you.”
    I was blown away. ucla—that was a big-time college football team. Dr. MacIntyremust have been a great player. It was my dream to get a football scholarship to a school like ucla.
    â€œThat’s the position I play too,” I said.
    â€œI know, Reggie. I think you and I have a lot in common. In fact, I even went through something like