And he wasn’t moving. He was as still as that bag of sand.

With a curse, Mia jumped up from her spot beside me and hopped the short fence to run to him.

But I couldn’t move. I was frozen where I sat, aware only of the racing heartbeat in my throat, the ice invading my limbs, the shallowness of my breathing.

Absurd. That word once again invaded my thoughts, and I almost laughed—laughed—to stave off the cold panic.

I tried to get up and follow after Mia, because somewhere in the midst of this strange, outside-of-myself sensation, I knew that’s what I should do. But my legs wouldn’t obey and my arms were like dead wood. The sounds of everyone around me echoed as if from a vast distance.

I was in the middle of a dream—no, a nightmare—willing myself to wake up. Every cell in my body weighed more by a factor of at least a hundred, or maybe even a thousand.

Mia and Adam crouched over William’s unconscious form. People in the crowd were on their feet, watching it all, discussing amongst themselves what had just happened. Mia cupped a hand around William’s neck and gently rolled him onto his back while checking his vital signs. Adam pulled out his cell phone, presumably to call 911.

And all I could do was sit here and stare, as if I was watching a news report on TV.

“Holy crap, what the hell just happened?” Alex said at my shoulder as the two refs dragged Doug out of the ring. Several people from the clan council quickly crowded around him just outside the arena.

Someone ran up to Mia with what looked like a first aid kit, which she quickly sifted through before pulling out a package of gauze. As I watched her tend to William, saw the blood begin to soak through the white bandage, my numb fists knotted so tightly that my fingers cramped.

I closed my eyes as a massive shudder wracked my body. My throat constricted at the recollection of that horrible night when Helena woke me up, sobbing, telling me there’d been an accident. That Brock had been killed.

I wanted to cry, but no tears came. Everything within me was lifeless and cold as the Moon.

Was it happening again? Could Fate really be this cruel?

When I was six, Aunt Beti sat my sister and I down next to each other on the couch of the tiny apartment we lived in when we first came to the US. Mama and Papa were due to arrive next month, so I couldn’t imagine why Beti had tears in her eyes. I recalled her gripping her hands so tightly that the skin turned white, and I’d focused on them as she told us she had news.

Papa would not be coming. He’d been hit by a sniper’s bullet on his way back from getting the water for the week. Beti said he’d been pulling the big tanks in a wagon behind him, like he did every week since the beginning days of the siege. There hadn’t been running water or electricity in Sarajevo for months—years.

But I was six and I didn’t understand any of that. What I did understand was that I was never going to see my papa again. I’d never again hug him around his neck and feel his whiskers tickle me when he kissed me. I’d never listen to him tell me another one of those wild and outlandish bedtime stories. I’d never sneak another piece of halvi from him when Mama wasn’t looking. I’d never again get to look in his eyes.

And I couldn’t even go back for his funeral.

That night before bed when I said my prayers—the way Aunt Beti always told us to do—I told God I wouldn’t speak to Him again after that day. That I would always be angry at Him for taking my Papa away.

But I wasn’t just angry at God. I’d polished that tiara and cried as I thought about Papa’s words to me—his promises that we’d all live together in America and be a family again.

Lies.

And here I was in the present, watching my future threatened yet again. As always, a helpless observer of my own life.

I couldn’t breathe. And I couldn’t cry. I could only sit and stare, tracing the scattered threads of thought as they slipped through my mind.

William was not coming to, despite Mia’s best efforts. In the distance, I picked up the faint sound of a siren. Paramedics.

The blood was pooling around William’s head now. Mia applied pressure to the wound and appeared to be giving instructions to Adam.

Alex nudged my arm. “They’ll let you ride with him to the hospital, I’m sure.”

My nails dug into my palms, drawing blood. Adam was on his feet calling to Jordan, who hopped the fence and was beside them in seconds.

By this time, the ambulance was already pulling into the parking lot, red lights ablaze.

“Wow, they got here fast,” Alex said. “There must be a fire station nearby. The closest hospital is in Bakersfield, about thirty minutes away. I just checked it on my phone. We can follow them over.”

I didn’t move. I didn’t answer her.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the prone figure lying on the ground. After conferring with Adam, Jordan took off running toward the paramedics while Mia and Adam stayed with William.

“Jenna, are you okay?” Alex asked, her voice squeaking.

I shook my head, my hands clamping tighter around the seat beneath me. The paramedics wheeled in a stretcher and surrounded the figure lying in the dust. Everyone crowded the railing, gawking as they worked on William. Soon, they were strapping his head and neck to a board and putting him on the stretcher.

“He’s coming to…I think he’s conscious!” Alex said. She stood up on tiptoes to look over the rest of the crowd. I buried my face in my hands, unable to look.

I could hear Mia at the railing, calling up to her mom, informing her that she and Adam were going to ride in the ambulance to the hospital. I looked up as Adam threw his keys to Jordan. Then they were gone, following the stretcher to the parking lot and the waiting ambulance.

The bleachers around us started to empty, everyone talking excitedly about what had happened. As far as I knew, there were more events scheduled, but they had either been canceled or postponed to deal with William’s emergency. I even heard someone mention an impromptu clan council meeting, probably to address Doug’s asshole move. Maybe I should attend…or maybe I’d grab my stuff to—

“Jenna!” Alex said loudly. I stood up, brushed off my skirt and started for my tent. She called out again, but instead of turning to face her, I kept walking in the opposite direction of the parking lot.

A breeze blew and my cheeks were cold and wet. I marveled at that. Was I really crying? Tears trickled out of my eyes, but it didn’t feel like I was crying. I just felt freezing cold. Numb.