AN ACCIDENT
Things were happening thick and fast these days. Classes and study hall
were realities. Rainy weather cut the soccer season short. Mimi, to
whom the game was new, stayed on first squad but did not make the team.
She was flashy and fast but she was used to making goals with her hands
and not her feet. Now when basket ball practice started--and it did
this week--she would show them something. There had been a long letter
from Mother Dear from New York mailed the day they sailed; a letter
from Dottie with all the B. G. Hi news. Mimi had answered Dot with news
that she was on the Prep tennis double team. She omitted soccer. Dot
didn't play soccer anyhow. The literary clubs had started rushing,
placards of the first artist concert were posted and six weeks' tests
were beginning to bob up their ugly heads. Sue was gaining weight,
Chloe growing most distant, and Betsy and Mimi continued to admire each
other secretly but antagonize each other publicly. Something was bound
to happen to break the growing tension. Two weeks later it did.
When Mimi grew up and looked back at her school days, she knew that the
scene of her most exciting moments was the gymnasium. Here she yelled
her breath out, played her heart out, knew defeat as well as victory.
Here she was her best or her worst. Basket ball meant more to her even
than swimming. You swam by yourself but basket ball depended on the
perfect timing and teamwork of your team mates to whom you felt closer
than any other group of girls, ever.
The first day the notice was up, Mimi reported for basket ball.
Strangely enough she and Betsy both signed up for the forward berths.
When Mimi saw Betsy's square, back-handed signature under her own, she
had a bad moment. Perhaps she should have signed up for running center.
She had played running guard but Sheridan kept strictly to girls'
rules. As guard she could not score and, being a good shot, she wanted
a position where she could prove her ability.
Mimi never forgot those first skirmishes. How hard she tried to pass
accurately, aim carefully, catch the ball firmly and be light, sure,
fast. Miss Bassett was a splendid coach. She tried first one
combination and then another. Betsy and Jennie forwards, Mimi and
Jennie centers. Evelyn and Betsy centers. Matilda and Mimi guards. She
had let the girls choose tryout positions but she wanted to be sure
they were playing where they would give the team most. Then came the
combination which clicked. Betsy and Mimi at forwards together. Mimi
made what appeared impossibly long shots rather than pass to Betsy
under the goal. Betsy called loudly to guards and centers for the ball
and shot quickly from any angle she received it rather than pass to
Mimi. They looped goal after goal.
"How about that combination?" Miss Bassett asked Dit while the girls
rested. Dit was calling the game and Miss Bassett had been studying the
players from the side lines.
"Best yet," Dit answered, tapping her forehead thoughtfully with her
whistle, "if we can get that individual starring idea out of their
heads and make them play for the team."
"Signal practice will do that," Miss Bassett assured her. She had taken
individuals before and welded them into a team that put, "team, team,
team" above everything.
"Give them ten more minutes of drill and dismiss them, please, Dit. I'm
going to the office."
"All right, girls," Dit said, and when she spoke they listened closely.
"We are going to practice pivoting and shooting. Divide up quickly in
two line, one on either side the basket and let the leaders be as far
back as the first court line so that there will be room to run and
pivot before you shoot. Here I'll show you."
She didn't need to show Mimi. She knew. Nothing was more fun than
catching a pass solidly as she ran forward. Usually Mimi leaped forward
to meet the ball. Then with one foot rooted firmly, she knew how to
pivot away from the guard and let the ball fly swiftly toward the goal.
Mimi held her breath those times when the ball would loop around the
edge of the hoop before it finally slipped through the knotted string
basket.
Happily she trotted to her place. Today she would show Dit how fast and
accurate she really was. She would show up better than she ever had.
Out of the corners of her merry blue eyes she saw Betsy in the opposite
line with the same determined look on her face. The whistle blew.
Thump, thump, thump went the ball against the slick floor as the first
passer dribbled down the side line before throwing the ball. Thud--the
ball hit the backboard. A girl rushed in to catch it before it hit the
floor, ducking to keep from colliding with the girl who had just shot.
Two girls more and it would be her time. Mimi was impatient--smack--she
caught the ball--thump, thump, thump she was running beside it.
Accurately timing the speed of Betsy who was coming in fast she passed,
then as swiftly as her legs would carry her, she raced toward the goal.
She forgot everything in the world except the fact that she must keep
her eye on that ball and catch it before it hit the floor. Betsy was
moving rapidly with the same idea, "keep your eye on the ball." Coaches
have preached it year in and year out since there have been coaches.
Thud--the ball against the backboard again. Mimi's arms up to catch
it--Betsy rushing away, arms up from having shot--Whack!
The two girls collide----
Betsy is knocked out. Mimi staggers back, her hands covering her face.
When Betsy moans she drops her hands. The stunned feeling vanishes.
Betsy is hurt, badly hurt Mimi fears. While Dit dismissed the girls,
Mimi drops on her knees beside Betsy. Betsy's mischievous eyes are
closed, the lids fluttering slightly. Her face, usually so rosy and
animated, is white and still. Her short hair is stuck to her head with
perspiration. More than anything in the world, Mimi wanted Betsy to
open her eyes.
"Dit, please, open both those windows," Mimi pleaded, choking back a
sob. "Oh, Dit----"
"There, there, Mimi. She'll come around soon. Here, bathe her face with
this wet towel."
Mimi lifted Betsy's head to her knees and holding it gently, she put
the cold cloth on her forehead. A lump was rising on Betsy's temple.
She flinched and opened her eyes as Mimi unwittingly touched it.
"Oh," Betsy cried.
"Take it easy, Betsy. You're all right now. A nasty bump. Here, Mimi,
let's help her up and get her to her room. I've sent for Miss Bassett
to meet us there."
"I can get up," Betsy said weakly.
Mimi lifted from one side and Dit tugged at the other. Mimi avoided
Betsy's eyes. She hoped against hope Betsy wouldn't think she had done
it on purpose.
Miss Bassett was waiting in the door of Tumble Inn. Sue and Chloe were
out.
"Lie down, Betsy. There, now let me look you over."
Miss Bassett bent her arms, arched her knees.
"Nothing but a 'goose egg' on your head. Massage it with Mentholatum,
Mimi. Better rest until supper."
When Mimi leaned over Betsy to rub her forehead she felt a warm gush
from her nose.
"Why, Mimi!" Dit exclaimed. "Your blouse--blood--it's your nose."
"Yes ma'am. It hurts!"
Mimi sank down on the bed by Betsy.
Miss Bassett was instantly alert. Light as her touch was, it hurt
fearfully. The blood was dripping down her throat gagging her. Pains
were shooting through her head. She could feel her nose swelling. What
a sight she must look!
"Fracture," Miss Bassett pronounced gravely. "Dit, go for Dr. Ansley.
She left me a short time ago for the Infirmary. Don't be frightened,
Mimi. It isn't serious. I don't believe you'll need splints but we'd
better let Dr. Ansley take a look."
"Will I have to go to the Infirmary? Please, please, let me stay here."
"Please," Betsy added earnestly. "I'll take care of her and keep things
quiet."
Daddy never seemed so far away--Daddy with his sure, skilled hands and
his make-you-feel-better manner. But Mimi was brave. She sat quietly in
the straight chair by the window while Dr. Ansley worked on her. Betsy
watched intently. She was smiling at Mimi, her eyes saying, "good
sport, good sport, be brave." Returning the smile, Mimi swallowed the
two capsules the doctor held out.
The thing which hurt most was the slow realization that she was out of
basket ball for the season. Some one else would play forward with Betsy.
Betsy must have known her bitter thoughts, for after the Doctor, Miss
Bassett, and Dit had gone she said:
"I'd rather play forward with you than any one."
Knowing what the admission must have cost, Mimi replied: "Me too, and
now I can't play at all!"
"It's my fault because I didn't watch where I was going."
"I didn't either."
"I am going to do something nice to make up for it."
Mimi fell asleep wondering what it would be. Nothing could be as
precious as what she had lost but Betsy had said it was nice and Betsy
kept her word.