If Only

Chapter 21- Slam Poetry

"Fleur. Hey, wake up please. Just for a sec. Then you can go back to sleep if you really want to." someone says, shaking me lightly. I jump, eyes wide open. Darion stands at the side of the bed, his eyes trained on me.

"Sorry!" he says, his free hand flying up. I shake my head and sit up, wrapping the blanket around me. "I brought you food. That is, if you're in the mood to eat." he sits a plate of food down. I glance at it, processing it. Chicken Alfredo and a glass of water. I shrug at his offer.

"It'd make me feel better if you ate. At least a few bites. Or at least, it'd give me a sort of comfort." he adds, sitting at the foot of the bed.

"Ok." I whisper.

"Thank you." he hands me the plate which I have to sit on my knee to keep balanced. I'm shaking so badly, my body is so numb that holding up a plate is hard. I pick up the fork with my left hand and switch it to the right. The fork shows how bad I'm truly shaking as I lower it to the plate and attempt to stab the food. It's not that the food is bad. Chicken Alfredo is actually one of my favorite meals. I just feel especially shaken up after earlier.

"Let me help." Darion says, putting his hand over mine as he shifts closer. He moves the fork and stabs a small piece of chicken then a noodle dripping in Alfredo sauce. I slowly bring it up to my mouth and take the bite. I instantly sit the fork back down, afraid I might drop it. I chew and chew. The taste is immaculate but I'm dizzy from crying so it doesn't go down too easily. I swallow and attempt to take another bite following up with a drink of water.

Darion helps me as he says, "Hey. My mom said you're welcome to stay here for the night but she'll need your parent's number."

"Ok." I say. I give him Heather's phone number and go in for another bite. He writes it down on a magenta sticky note and excuses himself so that he can go put this somewhere his mom will see it when she comes back. As he takes longer than expected, I finish most of my food before he returns. There's only a few bites left when he re-enters, but I can't bring myself to finish it completely. He doesn't seem to mind, taking the plate effortlessly and excusing himself once again to bring the plate downstairs. I smile at him as he leaves, him returning the favor, and curl back into a ball of fabric and person.

"I see you're enjoying my blanket. You can thank me later for letting you use that one. It's my favorite." Darion laughs, sitting next to me and letting me lean into his side. I chuckle and snuggle into him. He places his hand on my head, rubbing my hair. I ask for my water again, which he happily hands over and helps me keep steady as I sip. He places it back on the table when I ask him to, and shifts back into the position to cuddle me. He smells really nice, I will admit. But the only thing more captivating than his smell right now, is sleep. And I'm glad to know that I'm about to get a lot of it.

I'm sitting in History class, lounging back in my chair. I finished the assigned worksheet a while ago, and there's nothing else to do now. I glance around and attempt to hide my laugh when I catch the teacher sleeping, drool dripping from his mouth. I hear paper crunching, turn, and see Amber crumbling paper into a ball. I watch her snicker to her friends before chucking it at Mr. Franklin. He wakes with a start before straightening himself up in his chair.

"Excuse me? Who threw that?" he fixes his glasses as he demands an answer. The class stays silent, excusing a few snickers. I start to feel bad. Mr. Franklin was a cool dude, he didn't deserve that.

"Amber." I say, not daring to make eye contact.

"Amber huh? Why am I not surprised? Is that true class? Was little Amber here the one that threw the paper at me?" he stalks up to her, slamming his hand on her desk. The class doesn't give much of a verbal answer, most nodding or humming. Honestly, this is the most I've seen the teacher move all year.