"Heads up!" The striker's warning came just a split-second before the soccer ball smacked solidly into the side of Jo's head, hitting her square on the temple with punishing force. She didn't even have a chance to pretend she was fine-her muscles went slack and her vision narrowed to a pinprick as she collapsed to the grass. She could feel mud soaking into her jersey and smearing her blonde ponytail, but it felt impossibly distant.
Everything felt impossibly distant-she heard her teammates crowding around her, but it was like they were on the other end of a long tunnel. She heard them asking if she was alright, but her body seemed like it was miles away, totally unresponsive to her mental commands. She felt like even if she were able to open her eyes, she'd see the field through a telescopic lens from miles away.
I think I have a head injury,
she said to herself, but even the fear seemed remote and unimportant.
After a long, slow drifting moment, Jo heard Coach Erickson's voice cut through the babble of noise. "Everyone get back," she was saying, "give her some air." She felt Coach gently and carefully rolling her over onto her back, checking her neck to make sure it wasn't broken. "Jo," she said, "can you hear me?"
Jo strained to make her mouth move. "Muuh," she muttered, her tongue thick and unresponsive. "Guuh..."
"Take your time, Jo," Coach said, grasping her hand. "Don't push it. Just lie back and take it easy for a minute. You got hit on the head pretty hard."
"I'm fine," Jo tried to say. It came out more as, "Mafan." She started to open her eyes, but the second the sun spilled into her eyes a wave of sickening dizziness washed over her. She decided maybe she should lie back and take it easy for a minute, focus her energies on not tossing her cookies all over the practice field.
"It's okay," Coach said. "You're going to be fine. The ball just came off Molly's foot a little funny, and it smacked you pretty hard. You might have a concussion, but I don't think it's a bad one. You'll be back in time for the game at UMD, no problem." Jo felt her shift position to block the sunlight, and the intense headache and nausea eased slightly. "There, that better?"
Jo nodded extremely gingerly. She flickered her eyes open. Everything still felt bright, and her vision swam and wobbled in front of her, but it wasn't making her sick. "How many fingers am I holding up?" Coach asked. Jo tried to focus her eyes on Coach's fingers, but she kept seeing weird after-images. It was like there were two Coaches, one overlapping the other. One of them was holding up three fingers, but the other...
The other one was impossible. She had gray skin, the color of wet ash after a fire, but smooth. Impossibly smooth, smoother than skin, smoother than glass, smoother than satin. Skin that had never wrinkled into laughter. Skin that had never known age. Her face was swept back from an impossibly narrow, pointy nose and thin, pursed lips. She stared down at Jo with jet-black, glittering eyes and an unreadable expression. She had long, white hair and ears that stuck out widely and tapered into sharp points, and she held up three ash-gray, slender fingers with long, talon-like nails.
Jo closed her left eye. The apparition vanished, leaving Coach Erickson and her gentle, concerned face. She closed her right eye instead. Coach Erickson was blotted out and the creature was staring at her once more. She opened both eyes. They overlaid each other almost precisely, moving in perfect unison as they said, "Jo?"
"What are you?" she murmured, as much to herself as Coach Erickson. She reached up, brushing at the tip of those impossibly long ears, unable to believe the evidence of her own eyes. "What
are
you?" she whispered again, staring wide at the thing in front of her.
Her right eye saw Coach Erickson sigh in resignation. Her left eye saw the creature's eyes widen in surprise and alarm. its lips contort into a snarl of fear. "Concussion," they said in unison. Jo was surprised to notice that they even had different voices. "Definitely. Let's get her back to Doctor Eklund's office."
Jo felt hands under her shoulders picking her up and lifting her to her feet. The sun stung her eyes again and she clenched them tightly shut, but she thought she saw another couple of the creatures in among her teammates before the dizziness forced her to close her eyelids again. "There's more than one of them," she said loosely, but she knew she sounded like she was hallucinating. Maybe she was hallucinating. She didn't feel like she was hallucinating, but maybe that was part of the hallucination. But if she was really hallucinating things, would she even be considering the idea that she was hallucinating?
Jo's head slumped down and she let the others carry her unresisting body to the doctor's office. Just thinking about it was giving her a headache.
They set her down on a blessedly cool bed in blessedly dim lighting, and pulled over a curtain to give her some privacy. She heard Coach Erickson saying to her teammates, "Go on back to practice, girls. I'll make sure Doctor Eklund knows what happened."
In another voice, one that sounded like the rasp of paper rubbing against paper, Jo heard her say, "Leave and think nothing of her words. If anyone speaks to you of it, you will remember only that she rambled something unimportant."
Jo's teammates murmured their assent and left the office. Through the curtain, Jo saw Coach Erickson pacing back and forth. She cast two shadows on the curtains, one impossibly slender and tall. Jo wanted to slip out of the bed and make a break for it, but sitting up just made her so dizzy that she collapsed onto the pillow again.
After a moment, a second pair of shadows appeared behind the curtains. One of them had the silhouette of Doctor Eklund, familiar from a twisted ankle here and a sprained wrist there. The other one matched Coach Erickson's twin, gaunt and towering. "What is it, sister?" she asked in a papery whisper.
"The girl," Coach Erickson responded. "She sees us. Not our glamour, but our selves. She has a true Sight of us, and that means peril." That wasn't all she was saying-Jo could hear a whole other conversation laid over their words, mundane talk of head trauma and blurred vision. But underneath that was their secret voice, more like the shadow of a sound than like sound itself. Jo wondered if she'd ever be able to explain what that meant, or if it was just more concussion-babble in her head and she only thought it made sense.
Doctor Eklund said, "Fear not, sister. I shall take the measure of her Sight and the measure of the danger she poses. Go back now, and leave her to me. You have your own tasks to perform." With a curt nod, Coach Erickson's shadow moved away, leaving only one set of decidedly un-identical twins.
Jo tensed as Doctor Eklund popped her head through the curtains. "Howdy, kiddo," she said brightly. "How's my new patient?"