What is love?

Chapter 6

"Are you sure you're fine?" The nurse scrunch up her face as she examined my rigid and numb hand.

"I'm fine." I muttered for the thousandth time. "It's just my hand, see?"

"Alright then, I'll give you some antibiotics and then we'll be good here." The nurse headed for the glass cupboard and took out some number of pills. "Here, these should help with the venom's after effects."

"Thanks." 

I gave a rather quick smile before rushing towards the canteen[, I'm so late! I'll only have around a 15-10 minutes for breakfast. Luckily, March is quite easy to find amongst the crowd. There he is is on table 6 sitting quite peacefully with a tray of breakfast beside him, untouched.

"Hey, March" I greeted him as I slide into the chair beside him. "Why aren't you eating?"

"Oh, hi, Scarlette. Actually, I've already finished mine, that's yours." He ignored my suddenly red face and picked up the silver spoon. "Come on open up." He said, the spoon halfway in my mouth.

"No way, nope! Everyone here'll laugh at us!" I hissed and scoot away from him.

"No one's going to care. They're too busy with their own business. Besides your injured so shut up and let me help you. Now open up!" He shoved the porridge filled spoon into my slightly agape mouth.

We continued the feeding cycle - while giggling at certain times to break the ice - and finally it's time for me to head back to my dorm to shower and change before my first class. Luckily, my class and March's will meet during PE and Biology both of which takes place today. After bidding goodbyes I hastily head back to my dorm for a quick shower.

After the relaxing warm shower, I pulled on my white shirt, black vest, tie, skirt and stockings before my shoes. And after giving my hair a couple of swift brushes, I quickly head for my first class which is Chemistry. I don't know if I can hold the vials without trembling with my hand. I guess I'll just pretend I'm left handed 'till recovery.

Luckily, the teacher is kind enough to assign us with a partner. Normally I would slouch and shot death stares at my partner if they tried to do some teamwork. I just like being a lone wolf. Everyone knows the work was accomplished by you and you get the reward. For group projects you have to share the reward. I know sharing is caring and all but if we're talking about marks, sharing is not in my dictionary. Especially if the partner didn't do anything. For the first time in my life I actually collaborated with my partner which is not only a surprise for me but also to the teacher and my partner too. In her surprise and happiness, the teacher gave us a decent mark for our teamwork and good work with the experiment.

Next up is Biology. I'm glad. I've been checking in with March and turns out we're learning the same thing. Today we're going to dig up some plants and identify whether they are monocotyledons or dicotyledons. After that, we have to explain why we said so. Since I - according to March's opinion - excel in Biology, we decided to do a little teamwork. March will be the one who dig and I will be the one to identify and provide proofs. Our collaboration seem to work quite well since we both get a decent mark and sincere smiles from both our teacher. I guess even though my hand's injured, I can still survive in this school. With a little help from my friends, teachers and classmates of course. I never knew how dependent one could be at certain times. 

RINGGGG

"Well, that's our call for PE. Do you think you can survive Physical Education?" March asks as he washed the soil off his hands under the sink.

"I don't know. As long as you're there to help me out, I'd dare say I'll have no problem." I replied rather confidently while pumping out some soap for him.

"If you say so." He stretched his muscles. I can see the tiny hint of happiness and proudness swelling up inside him. 

March and I walked together towards the locker rooms to change into our PE attire which are a plain white shirt and red and white joggers topped with a pair of sneakers. I was just stretching my leg muscles when I felt a sharp tug from my right arm. It's March. He's tugging on my arm repeatedly while muttering something indiscernible under his breath. Only after a few minutes I can finally understand what he's saying.

"It's her, it's her, it's her, it's her!" He repeatedly mutter under his breath as a fair blond girl and her two friends - all wearing PE attire - pass by in front of us. I gave a sly smirk at March.

"Ooo, someone's in love." I whistled annoyingly.

"Shut up! She might hear you!" March hissed.

"I bet she hears you first."

"You think she heard me?!" March broke out into a fit of sweat and began hyperventilating.

"Whoa, whoa, chillax there, sandy boy. I'm kidding. Now come on, the teacher must be looking for us." I dragged the still hyperventilating and limp boy towards the field.

The once crowded and noisy field turned silent and organized as the PE teachers entered the field. "Alright students, today we will be starting our first lesson on basketballs. First up I want the first of each line to pick up the basketballs in front here and demonstrate the three types of passing."

Both me and March watched intently at the demonstrating students up front, studying their every move silently and carefully. I capture all of the teacher's comments too. Such as, flexible arms, good aim, relaxation on the joints, etc. After the demonstration is done, we all take turns passing the ball to our partner - the student in front of us. It's a bit tricky for me since I only have one functioning arm. But with March as my partner and an understanding teacher by my side, I managed to get some decent marks. After all of us has tried passing at least thrice, the teacher gave out a new instruction.

"Now that all of you have done the three types of passing, I want the tallest students in the room to demonstrate some shooting before we dismiss the class for break."

My gaze quickly fell on March. "Come on, you're tall. Go to the front." 

"No! What if I messed up?! I'll be a laughing stock in front of Britney!" March hissed back.

To our surprise, Britney - and some other students from her class - step up to the front of the class. Being the sly friend that I am, I pushed him forward. "Come on, you're a 161 cm. You'll manage." before he can object any further, I already pushed him to the front of the class.

He shot me a death stare before proceeding with the other students to form a neat single file. The teacher showed us how to do the shooting before passing the ball to some kid at the front line. The kid didn't make it at first try and kept going until he can make it and then he's allowed to return to his position. The process repeats itself until it finally reached Britney's turn. Amazingly, she shot a goal within a mere two tries! A roar of applause echoed through the field - mainly from March though, he clapped the hardest. After some more students, it's finally March's turn. True to his word, he failed a lot. It takes 5 tries until he finally make it. He slumped back to his line in defeat.

"I swear I saw Britney snorting when I failed the shots." He whispered under his breath. "I can't believe I make fun of myself like that in front of her. She must've think of me as a rookie!"

"Well, if she thinks so, then I don't. I think you did quite well. If I'm there, I think it'll take me 10 tries to succeed. So, great job, March!" I returned his usual sincere smile which he responded with a flattered, crimson face. 

I chuckled at his reaction. While I'm still recovering from the giggles, my eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of something weird behind March's back. To be exact, a certain someone is acting a little fishy. A blonde with her hair up is whispering something with her mates with the slyest grin possible. Ugh, looking at it makes me sick. At first, I refuse to get tangled up in this trouble of hers. But when her eyes shot at March with that malicious look of hers, all worries seem to drown. I don't know why, I don't know what, but I suddenly want to protect my one week friend from that despicable grin. I might not know what I'm up for, but for some reason, my gut's saying that it's nothing pleasing at all.