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knew loud noise could be as painful to Travis as sharplight. “You cut across to get back on your wing just as he was cutting left to try and catch Sarah. You turned as you neared the boards in case Nish was looking to pass to you. Both of you had blind spots. He wasn’t trying to hit you or anything – it just happened.”
    “They took you off on a stretcher,” Mr. D added. “So you can thank your lucky stars there were top-notch medical people there.”
    “I don’t remember anything.”
    Mr. D seemed surprised. “You were alert when they put you in the ambulance. They took you to the hospital for X-rays and kept you overnight for observation. Standard procedure. You don’t remember?”
    The doctor paused, putting away his stethoscope. “Short-term memory loss,” he said, more to Muck and Mr. D than to Travis. “It’s not at all uncommon. Has your team done baseline testing?”
    “Yes,” Mr. D said. “We do it each year at the first practice.”
    “Good, then your doctors back home will have something to measure his recovery by. He should be fine. Just keep him quiet and comfortable untilyou’re heading home. Have someone check on him every hour or so. He’ll just want to rest and sleep. No TV , no reading, no loud noises.”
    “That eliminates Nish,” Mr. D chuckled. “We’ve moved your roommates out, Trav, so you’ll have this place all to yourself. Muck and I have keys, so we’ll be able to check on you without disturbing you.”
    Travis was wondering how much of his memory had gone when, suddenly, part of it jumped back. The Owls had been up 1–0 when he went down.
    “Who won?” he asked.
    “You guys did,” Muck answered. “Some goof-ball defenseman who wants me to call him the Iceman put it away in overtime: 5–4 for the Owls.”
    “Your clothes are in the dresser there, Trav,” said Mr. D. “But one of the drawers is full of candy bars. They yours, too?”
    Nish’s stash. The Iceman’s power bars. A chance to get back at Nish.
    “Yeah,” Travis fibbed. “Leave ’em, please.”
    “Okay.”
    Travis started to giggle at his little trick while Muck and Mr. D followed the doctor out into the hall. As the three men talked quietly outside, sharp light poured in through the open door and directly into Travis’s eyes.
    The pain was excruciating. He felt tears flood his eyes.
    Then the door closed and all was dark again.

9
    Travis would enjoy this, Sarah thought, as the yellow school bus carrying the Screech Owls joined the convoy of yellow school buses heading south of Pittsburgh toward a small town called Shanksville.
    She was sitting with Sam, and while Sam dozed off in the heat of the bus, Sarah stared out at the bare trees with their light covering of snow.
    She had much to think about. She was worried about Travis, now into his second day of almost totalisolation in his hotel room. She knew from reports from Mr. Dillinger that Travis was eating fine and resting well, that the doctor had been back to see him and was satisfied with his progress, that Travis was able to tolerate some light in the room and had even tried a half hour of television. He had wanted to watch a hockey game – the Penguins against the Washington Capitals – but the speed of the game and the quick cuts from camera to camera brought back the seasick feeling and he’d had to turn it off.
    How awful, she thought. Unable to watch television. Unable to read. Unable to walk around outside. Just hours and hours of lying in a dark room waiting for your brain to get better.
    But what could anyone have done to prevent it? Sarah knew about concussions in hockey. Every player did. Sidney Crosby’s concussion, which had kept him from playing for most of a year, had made everyone see the dangers of head shots. For the most part – with tougher rules, more education – they were gone from minor hockey, but accidents could never be eliminated. Hockey was a fast game played on hard surfaces. Travis was lucky he