I ducked back behind the curtain, almost collapsing back onto the bed yet doing my best to look relaxed.

Coach stepped in behind the canopy slowly.
"Sure you okay, 'Rence?" He asked again.
His eyes were on the bag as he set it onto the small desk near the bed.

If I had sounded unsure the first time, I knew it would sound even less convincing now.
"I'm fine, Coach." I murmured.
My stomach gave a good clench after that lie.

He sighed again.
Okay, now that was really starting to get irritating.
"Well I'm sorry bud, but blood doesn't lie."
With a white cloth in hand, he came over to me.

"Blood doesn't what?"
But when it made contact with my lip, I felt -literally what he meant. The sharp sting of disinfectant lingered in the corner of my mouth before it moved to the side of my forehead.

There was a nasty red smudge centered on the cloth when Coach pulled back. Nodding at me, he threw it in the neighboring garbage can.
"Now. Are you sure you're okay, Foreman?"

I rolled my eyes.
'What does he expect me to say? It's not like he didn't see it for himself.'
I contemplated a lot of different plans of escape.

I could run. Try to get down the hall and hide somewhere. Then again, he's Coach. He practically lives for sprint chases. And my body was still in post-ass kicking mode.
There was always faking something serious. Appendicitis? No, that might actually scare Nurse B, and screwing with the hospital was never cool. Not like I wanted an unnecessary surgery anyway.
'Man what is wrong with me?'
This was Coach. The guy you asked for lunch money when you were broke, the kind of guy you go to for dating advice. Like a big brother with a hundred siblings.
How could I ever lie to him?

"I guess I'm not." I started.
A weird pulsation started at the pit of my stomach.

He nodded again.
"Wanna tell me why?"

My response was juvenile, I knew it had to be, but I just shook my head hoping he wouldn't push any further.

We were motionless in the room for about ten minutes without speaking.
Coach stood propped against the desk while I slouched, crumpled on the bed.
Every now and again we'd look at each other, waiting for something to be said but getting impatient with the staring after a few seconds.
Finally, Coach opened his mouth.