ʍoɹplǝss, ᵇⁱˡˡⁱᵉ ᵉⁱˡⁱˢʰ

007: Perfect

As we rode our bikes, Billie continued to fall behind. I could hear her exhaustion no matter how hard she tried to conceal it. Subtle gasps of pain escaped her; it got to the point where I couldn't keep ignoring them.

"All right." I paused by the sidewalk and hopped off my bicycle. "Serious question here, Billie: are you okay?"

Billie blinked at me, her face scrunched behind her bangs. Lips slightly agape, licked them and clumsily got off her seat. Since she stared at me for far too long without responding, I decided to prompt her again.

"Why didn't you come to school today?" I asked and searched for an answer. Instead, she rubbed her chin, slicked her fingers up her jaw and hid them in her hair. We stood beneath the sun, stifled by each other's smothering silence. My still residing anger made my eyes feel strained and my jaw tight.

"We're almost there, Ambrose," she finally said. "How about we get going?"

"Billie–"

"Come on." Billie got on her bicycle. Planted her left foot on the ground as she waited for me to follow her actions.

"Look, I appreciate you trying to help me. But if you don't feel well, please let me know."

"I'm fine," she said, but her voice cracked. A pause, then she sighed. Her palm smoothed over her lips, rubbed her elbow, smacked her scalp lightly. She hummed and continued to pat herself until she reached the abdomen. I could only stare at her confused until she further explained. Billie sighed again and said, "It hurts."

Maybe it was ridiculous overreaction, but my heart sunk to my stomach at her words. I rushed over and analyzed her contorted features. A notion kept prodding my mind, begging for me to acknowledge it.

"What happened?" I asked softly. I kept repeating in my head that it was only period pains or maybe she ate something bad. If it wasn't that or anything related, my mind would reel to the other possibility that was far too prominent in my thoughts to my liking.

"Listen. . . Ambrose, do me a favor." Billie looked around and scratched the back of her head. Her pearls for eyes landed on mine again before she beamed a faint, awkward grin. "Since I really don't think I can keep doing this, could you, uh. . . could I ride with you?" She gestured at the tubes that were jammed into the back wheel. A place where someone could stand on and hold on to the driver so they wouldn't fall off.

"Of course, Billie," I answered. Billie blinked up at me, then slid off her seat again. She nodded a thank you before parking her bike somewhere secure. I waited for her by mine. I watched as she practically limped back over to me with her arm clutched over her stomach.

"Okay, we can–" Billie winced and lurched. "Yeah, that one hurt."

"Ah, geez." I kneeled beside her and stared. "I really need you to tell me what happened."

"No." She pouted childishly. I rolled my eyes and poked her forehead.

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes–" I got to my feet and dusted off my knees– "come on. Tell me."

"I just. . . it's no big deal, okay?" Billie finally stood up straight. "Don't worry about me. I want you to not be upset. That's the whole reason as to why we're here. Not for me."

"Quit trying to sound heroic and tell me what happened." I crossed my arms and stepped closer. Billie giggled weakly. I sighed. "Please?"

She nibbled her bottom lip, then slowly sat down on the concrete. A groan blew out as soon as she landed. Patted the spot beside her for me to take.