8. chapter 8 One Silver Medal (1/2)

chapter 8

jerome was delirious and exhausted from swimming for many hours on end. now it was later in the day, about 6 o'clock in

the evening.. he couldn't see straight, everything was spinning, and he stopped to

eathe and rest his strained muscles. but

mchallan's boat came to him in five minutes. he saw jerome gasping for air in the middle of the water, and grabbed him by

the neck, shaking him violently and uncontrollably. "come on, morrow! snap out of it! you only have one-and-a-half miles

to go!"

he eventually did regain consciousness, and sped off swimming to the end. soon, he could hear a huge crowd of people,

and saw a small town, with different kinds of flags fluttering everywhere. his legs throbbed with pain, and his arms ached

from constant swimming. but he didn't give up; victory was just half a mile away, so despite the torture he was going

through, he swam the fastest he had ever swum in his entire life. the saltwater stung his blue eyes, making them bloodshot

and swollen. he felt a sharp pain in his right leg, like a knife, but he kept swimming.

finally he reached the harbor where the race ended, and swam through the finish line, where thousands of people took

pictures and cheered. he stood up with much difficulty, and looked around. there were a bunch of bleachers, huge

grandstands, full of cheering people waving flags from the united kingdom, the united states, and russia. his first impulse

was that he won, and he felt very proud. but then portia ran up to him, em

acing him, kissing him.

then it hit him like a ton of

icks; he was in second place. he lost first place to portia. she kissed him, and said,

"jerome! you made it!"

he thought to himself, "no, i didn't make it! i lost! i lost to an invalid, a faith birth." his joy turned to extreme

disappointment. he was a failure. he could not believe it at all. "it must be some nightmare, this isn't happening," he

thought to himself. but it wasn't a dream. million dollar morrow lost.

eventually, nikita trovsky came in and was in third place, and james st. clair came in last. portia stepped onto the first

podium, mr. trovsky in third, and jerome trudged to the second place platform. the king of england came onto the huge

stage, like it was a grand ceremony. he placed the golden medal on portia's neck, the silver on jerome's and tried to fit the

onze around trovsky's large head. then there was the largest cheer he'd ever heard. scores of people were there,

applauding, cele

ating. but jerome blocked it all out, all he could think of was the fact that he lost. he was not happy for

portia one bit. he hated her.

late that night, they left on the chunnel, the underwater train tunnel that connected france and england through the english

channel. portia was asleep in the first car, but jerome sat alone in the last train car. portia had tried to cheer him up, she

didn't know that he was angry at her. then, coach mchallan walked in and sat by him. "morrow, you ok?"

jerome didn't answer, just kept looking at the back of the seat in front of him, stewing in anger inside.

"jerome, i know you're mad that you didn't win first place."

still no answer from him.

mchallan sadly shook his head. "it happens to the best of them, morrow. just don't do anything crazy, don't hurt yourself

over it." then, he left to the front of the train.

they reached london in an hour, it was about 9 o'clock at night. as he walked to the door, portia ran up to him. "wait,

jerome!"

he turned around, scowling. "what?"

she hugged him, "see you tomorrow. i love you so much."

he didn't answer.

"oh, i don't want to leave you," she said, but kissed him again, and got a taxi.

jerome didn't get a taxi, he was just going to walk to his flat. he didn't care if he got mugged, he wasn't worth anything. no

one would miss him, or so he thought. so he just sauntered down the dark street.

on his way, he thought to himself, "i'm not worth anything," and other things. then, he saw the street full of cars, speeding

down the road. without giving it a second thought, he stepped out in the street.

"i'll just end my life, and it'll all be over and done with. just one step, it won't hurt," he thought, and a car screeched to stop.

jerome was struck by the car's force, and he heard a crack. suddenly, a spasm of pain shot through his entire body, and he

fell to the ground. he couldn't

eathe, and tried to gasp for air. but he couldn't. he couldn't speak or cry out in pain. then,

everything blacked out.

portia ran into the hospital. she was wearing a red trenchcoat and a red and black hat, her signature high heels on. it was 6

o'clock in the morning. she sped to the front desk. the nurse there said, "can i help you?"

her eyes welled up with tears, she spoke out with her throat forcing down a steady stream of tears, "yes, i just got a call

saying a jerome morrow is in the hospital."

"oh yes, jerome eugene morrow, floor 2, emergency ward."

she quickly said, "thank you," and ran to the stairs, flew up them, and reached the front desk of the emergency floor. to the

nurse that was there, she said, "i'm looking for a jerome morrow. he came in here around 10 o'clock last night?"