Year 9: Uh, she sprained her ankle I guess?

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Darcy's pov

I cannot believe I have such a dumb girlfriend.

I guess both Tara and I were thinking this same thought as she lay on the floor, her legs splayed out, while I could not stop laughing.

"My leg is sprained," she said, folding her knee and rubbing her hand over her ankle.

"It's a sprained ankle you dummy," I said, still unable to stop laughing. I guess after all the stress I had been carrying around, this little incident became my release.

Okay, not a little incident. Your girlfriend is injured Darcy, get a grip.

"Shit," I said getting down on my knees and taking a look at her ankle. "It is swollen."

"Yes, if you hadn't been so busy laughing..." she winced as I pressed her skin a little too hard. "Ow! Stop!"

"Sorry," I said, "How did you sprain it in the first place?"

"I don't know!" she said, exasperated, "I just...fell."

"You are so dumb."

"So are you! Laughing like that," she crossed her arms, pissed off.

"Aww, my baby," I said, shuffling beside her, "you really cheered me up."

"Shut up or I'll punch you."

"Punch me in the right place and I won't mind."

Tara rolled her eyes, "I. Am. Hurt. Help me."

"Uh," I scratched the back of my neck, "You are supposed to apply ice I guess."

"Bring it then. The fridge, you know where it is," she said, "Hurry, it's hurting."

"Anything for my sweetheart," I said, my voice sickeningly cloy.

"You pretentious idio-"

I ran downstairs before her insults got worse, got some ice and ran back up and gave it to her like the obedient and loving girlfriend I am.

"Better?"

"I don't know."

I sighed. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. I glanced at Tara.

"Who could it be?" I asked. She shrugged.

"You can't go downstairs so..."

"You have to. Yes."

"What if someone kidnaps me?"

"Just go," she said literally shoving me off the floor, "tell them the Jones are not at home."

"You don't care about me at all, do you?"

"Nope."

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes, "I hate you."

"Me too."

I slammed the door behind me because I was actually feeling bad now. Can't she just be a bit nice? I wish she loved me like I loved her.

I rushed towards the door. The person behind it was rapping it with their knuckles now.

I opened the door, bracing myself for anything, "Hey, sorry the-"

I paused. The man behind it had Tara's exact complexion, that same soft face, those same full lips. His eyes were different though. His eyes seemed...sharp, kind of cruel, but overall he looked harmless.

"I- uhm," I had no idea what to do so I just froze.

"May I ask who are you?" he said, his voice cold in a way that I knew was not natural to him, "And what are you doing in my house?"

"I, yeah," I regained my composure, "Sorry Mr.Jones, I am Darcy, Tara's friend."

"Ooh, so you're Darcy," he nodded, "I remember her telling me about you. And where is my daughter?"

He kind of manuvered himself inside at this point in such a position that he could push me out at any moment.

"She is upstairs," I scratched my neck, "she, um, sprained her ankle I guess? We were just..."

Thankfully, I did not have to continue as he rushed upstairs and I followed suit. He opened the door and called out Tara's name who responded, delighted.

"What happened?" he asked kindly, kneeling down beside her. I was surprised at his tone, as I was accustomed to being asked the same question as if my parents were accusing me, blaming me for getting hurt.

"Oh, Darcy and I were fooling around," she said, slightly embarrassed, "I was trying to teach her how to dance. I don't know how, but I twisted my ankle somehow." She shrugged.

"It's fine," he inspected the swelling, "you girls did the right thing by applying ice. It will heal within a week at maximum. Thank god I got free early today."

"Thank god," I breathed out.

Tara gave me an amused smile. It was a beautiful thing to look at. Even in our dreadful uniform, and with a sprained ankle, she was a beautiful thing to look at.

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