Part 1
We had to take Kameron to hospital.
Coach Sillac scolded Vaek and even kicked him out of the club, but it won't change a thing. As he said with a sigh, "These are the risks of sport." No official reprimand will be forthcoming. And Vaek... he didn't even flinch.
He kept that blank stare. As if nothing had happened. As if nothing could touch him.
We stayed in the hospital all night. Me, Nael, Persival. Even Yuna, as a member of the student council, had joined the club to try and frame the situation, once she'd been warned. Then, as a friend... she accompanied us here. She barely spoke. But she stayed.
We took turns between the waiting room and the cafeteria, without really talking to each other. At one point, Naël fell asleep on a chair. Persival stared at a wall, absorbed in thought. Yuna stood with her arms folded and her face closed.
I gritted my teeth.
I blamed myself.
Not because Vaek had surely broken Kameron. But because I could have prevented it. Because I saw it before anyone else.
I saw the catch, even before it was locked. I perceived the movement, thanks to my foresight. And even afterwards, when we were trying to push him away, I could have acted. Use my lightning. Cut the grip clean off. Set him free.
But I didn't.
I hesitated.
A second. A fraction, even. A tiny hesitation, but enough to condemn my friend to irreversible loss.
The doctors spoke to us in a separate room. They used these cold, professionally direct words:
Complete ligament rupture, severe nerve compression, displaced fracture of the right talus.
He almost lost his leg.
He was taken to the OR overnight, for a complex and risky emergency procedure. They were going to try to repair what could still be repaired: stabilize the bone fragments, free the trapped nerves, rebuild what was still standing. Maison warned us that even if all went well... Kameron would never be able to fight again.
And what's worse, the after-effects will cripple his everyday life.
He'll have to stay in hospital for at least two weeks. Then... months of rehabilitation.
And all that, all that disaster, all that waste...
Because of a single second's hesitation.
My hesitation.
Part 2
The next morning was Saturday.
The weekend offered a respite. No classes to catch up on, no teachers to cross paths with. Just emptiness and waiting.
Yuna had made several calls early in the morning. She had informed the management, the student council, even a referent teacher, and also Kameron's family. She'd handled it all without a moment's hesitation, as always. This ability to stay upright, even when everything's rocking, is impressive...
Meanwhile, we waited.
The operation had taken longer than expected. Several hours. And even after the doctors had left the operating room, we still had to wait: the time it took for Kameron to come out of anesthesia, for his condition to stabilize, for his vitals to be monitored.
We slept in fits and starts, slumped on seats that were too stiff, lulled by the crackle of neon lights and the rapid footsteps of the night staff.
It was almost noon when we were finally allowed into his room.
The room was bathed in pale light. A discreet ray filtered through the half-open window, caressing the sheets, the heart monitor, the cables, the infusions.
And there, in the center, on his bed, was Kameron.
He smiled at us as we entered.
A forced smile.
He tried to hold it in for a few seconds, but his features betrayed what he was trying to hide: embarrassment, pain, shame.
And when he saw Yuna... he looked away, quickly.
Like someone who doesn't want to be seen. Not by her.
I guess his date with her the day before hadn't gone so well... That's probably why he hadn't come in yesterday afternoon.
He spoke first.
As if he didn't want to let us start.
As if he knew that if he waited another second, we'd have said something he didn't want to hear.
- How's everybody doing?
His voice was hoarse. Not from fatigue or medication. But because of the effort he was making to sound normal. He wanted to give the impression that nothing had changed.
But it wasn't working.
Naël was the first to reply. Too quickly, almost hastily.
- It's okay, don't worry. We took turns last night. We survived the plastic seats, so that's already a victory.
Silence.
Yuna hadn't moved. She looked at Kameron without blinking or smiling. She held my arm as if her fingers refused to let go. Perhaps she was angry about what she'd said to him the day before.
- What about you?" Persival asked softly, his arms crossed.
- Me?" replied Kameron with the same half-smile. I've been better. But at least I'm not dead. That's something, isn't it?
He looked down, staring at an invisible spot on the cover. His fingers played with the edge of the sheet, mechanically. Then he added, in a lower tone:
- I still can't feel my foot. The doctors have already told me everything. I know I'll have after-effects and won't be able to do any more sport.
Yuna barely frowned, but held me tighter. Persival lowered his eyes. Nael clenched his jaw, surely feeling hatred for Vaek.
I said nothing. I just looked at him.
Kameron lifted his chin, met our eyes... then looked away, once more. He looked down.
- Sorry... he said in a breath.
An empty word. An excuse we didn't understand. Sorry for what? For hurting himself? For worrying us? We stared at each other in incomprehension.
He finally opened his mouth, his voice still broken by fatigue and pain.
- Tonight's the tournament... the one I told you about," he stammered.
Why was he talking about it now? Why bring up the tournament at a time like this? Maybe... maybe he really cared. More than I'd imagined.
He continued, without waiting for us to reply:
- As you already know, my family lives in the South End. My little sisters go to school there... and it's also Section 11 gang territory. And it sucks, frankly.
Section 11. A local gang, born in the crumbling alleys of southern Konfrant. Not the most violent, nor the richest, but one of the most ruthless and influential. They didn't need to make themselves known, because everyone already knew. When we arrived in Konfrant, we soon heard about them. Their mere name was enough to make people look the other way. The police only went in groups, and rarely. Schools in the area were under constant strain. Threats, illegal taxes, racketeering - it was all part of their routine. It was a sensitive neighborhood.
Kameron continued, without looking up:
- The grand prize for the tournament winners... it was a lot of money. So much you wouldn't believe it. But most of all... there was the recognition of Section 11. If you win there, they leave you alone. Better still, they respect you. I could have moved my family. Take my sisters away. I wouldn't have to worry about some guy following them after school or the house being marked in the middle of the night.
He was silent.
You'd think it was absurd. An illegal fighting tournament to buy peace. But Kameron is a resourceful man.
I looked at him. In front of me, this was no longer the Kameron who talked loudly, threw silly bets or sulked over an empty plate. This was a person carrying a weight far too heavy for his shoulders.
He had always been seen as a stubborn, boisterous, unpredictable child. The one who acted before thinking, who said "I'll fix it" to every problem.
But we also knew. Behind it all, there was someone responsible.
He worked one odd job after another alongside his courses. He had fought to get into Konfrant. He did everything he could not to give up.
So this tournament... it wasn't a whim. It was his plan. An escape plan.
And now there he was, lying there, his leg bandaged, his voice trembling.
And there was nothing I could do.
Kameron swallowed hard. He pretended to straighten up slightly, but a grimace immediately escaped him, shattering what pride remained in his expression.
- But I screwed up, he admitted. I didn't mean to... but I took you with me.
He raised his head. His gaze was frank.
- I've written both your names down," he said, looking at me, then at Persival. It was compulsory. They only accepted teams of three. I thought I'd manage the first round on my own. Qualify, and then make sure they forget about you. But now that I'm here... they're going to demand your participation.
There was a long silence.
Persival didn't move. My eyes widened: I understood the apology he'd made earlier.
As for Naël, he sat up straight in his chair.
- Wait... You mean you put their names... without asking them?!
His voice was low, but sharp. He wasn't shouting. No. He had that icy tone, rare in him.
Kameron nodded slowly in agreement. He didn't try to defend himself.
- I was going to tell you. I thought... I could prevent this from happening to you. But Section 11 doesn't accept withdrawals.
- So we're obliged to participate if we don't want to be confronted by them... I said.
- I say. You can't unsubscribe now," he replied, staring into space. The tournament starts tonight.
But this time, it's not a bare knuckle like previous editions. This tournament... it's changed. It's gotten bigger. It's not just local. It's a selection for the next stages.
Kameron continued:
- Each team will have to prove that it has a place in the final tournament, which will take place during the vacations. And those who withdraw... they call it a forfeit with consequences.
I asked what that meant. I was told it's better to lose in the arena than to have to explain why you weren't there.
Nael clenched his fists.
- I'll take your place then... In any case, either we go or we suffer their reprisals.
That was clear enough.
- What exactly happens if they don't go?" Yuna asked coldly. She wasn't angry, but she wasn't pitiful.
- They'll find us. And who knows how far they'll go...
Kameron resumed at last, with a lump in his throat:
- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I just wanted to solve my own problems. Not put you in mine.
I walked over to the bed and put a hand on the cold rail of the hospital bed.
I stared at Kameron. He didn't dare look at me. He still wore that mask of shame and pain. He wanted us to accuse him, to punish him, to tell him he'd ruined our peace. Maybe he would have preferred a punch, a scream.
I didn't say anything at first. I was just thinking. Not about all the information he'd just released, but just about him. About the pain he must be feeling.
What it had cost him to get to this point.
I held out my hand, silently, waiting for him to shake it. Then I breathed softly:
- You got us into this mess... that's true. But we'll help you.
Kameron closed his eyes briefly. He was holding back tears with all his might. Then he shook my hand.
I stood up slowly and turned to Nael and Persival.
- Tonight, we're going. And let's sort it out.
They nodded, saying nothing more.
We'd already made up our minds.
I looked at Persival.
He hadn't moved since earlier. Still straight, still calm. But his look had changed. From the start, he'd been determined to go.
- I'll come," said Naël simply. But I want to know everything. The place, the rules, the organization.
Kameron shook his head, slowly.
- I don't know any more... They'll explain everything on the spot.
He looked at me. There was a mixture of relief in that look. He clenched his fists and lowered his head.
- Win this tournament... at all costs, please.
We turned away, ready to leave. Ready to face what lay ahead.
- I'm coming with you," said Yuna.
- What?" I asked, surprised.
She held my gaze, serious.
- Not to fight. But you're not going out there alone. If things get out of hand... someone has to be ready to call for backup.
I stopped. Then I approached her, only a few steps away.
- Yuna... I understand. I really do. But it's not a good idea.
She frowned, ready to protest, but I continued, gently:
- If you come, they'll see you. And even if you don't, you'll be associated with us.
She remained silent. Then I added, more quietly:
- If anything goes wrong, there has to be someone on the outside. Someone they won't suspect.
You can do that.
She looked down. I saw her fingers twitch slightly.
- Staying back isn't running away. It's giving us a chance to come back.
She remained silent for a moment. Then she nodded her agreement.
It was hard for her not to be able to do more, but she understood.