Gwen moaned. Everything ached. Her head, neck, back, legs. Even those fingernails she’d painted with fall colors hurt.
When she released Alex’s hand, she’d rolled over rubble like a body surfer in waves. And this drop wasn’t over smooth foam but a gnarly tumble over crumbling bricks and tile. Even though years of skateboarding had taught her how to fall, it still felt like she’d scraped every square inch of bare skin. Probably bruised the rest.
If bruises were all they were.
She squinted in the dim light and recited the words Dad had drilled into her since she was little. “Assess injuries, Gwen.”
She probed her scalp. Nothing there. Arms scraped but no large wounds. She started to sit up but a sharp pain in her thigh laid her back down. Swallowing hard she tried to roll onto her side.
