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He should’ve known better. He knew, knew how long it took Anne and WD to get to the point of how skillfully they managed to make it look easy.
He found himself thinking, idly watching the dust motes float above him, about the practice net that sat across the main ring.
WD and Thom had offered to help him set it up, but they had better things to do than indulge Phillip in his attempt at stress relief.
Finally, after several long moments, Phillip was able to draw in a deep breath, coughing as the dust of the ring mixed with the air he drew in.
“Flip?”
“Phin?” his voice was a hoarse wheeze, barely audible as he tried to sit up.
“Good Lord, Phillip,” Phineas’ boots came into view as the man knelt next to Phillip. “What were you thinking? The net isn’t just here to look nice.”
Philip huffed a laugh, and tried to sit up again. “Ow,” he winced, flopping back down into the dirt. “That…that didn’t feel good.”
“Phillip?” Phineas shifted, obviously concerned. “What hurts?”
“My back,” Phillip answered, shifting a bit, eyes growing wide as he realized… “Phin, I can’t feel my legs.”