Avery's (terrible) Guide To Have Fun

10 : heal

THE FIRST TIME I GOT BEAT UP, I PUNCHED BACK. It was so thrilling. I was in seventh grade, and someone stole my necklace from the locker room. The short guy threw a punch at me first. Before he could have touched my face, my knuckles collided with his nose. And that's when the whole kiddie football team broke loose, with half of them punching me and my friends getting their asses. In seventh grade, girls and boys used to play almost every sport together. Most of the people's blows were not painful, but a little scrawny boy pushed me into the lockers, and the world blacked out for me. Val cried so much that her notes were ruined, and she sat with me the entire day. The guy I punched also had to get stitches, and we both got detention. Dad was there at the time, and he was happy that I at least got to throw a punch.

The second time I was punched was because I kissed a boy, and he got confused. And yes, I asked for his consent. I will never forget my crush from freshman year. He was like a fucking silk museum with slick black hair and eyes so deep that I never wanted to get out of them. It was also my first party, and he was my very good friend. If you missed, he was a senior-year student. It was probably not the best decision of mine. When the time was right on the dance floor, I leaned into his ears, asking if I could kiss him. His breath fanned my neck, and, oh, before I blinked, we were kissing. It was a feverish kiss, with his hands on my waist and mine on his slender neck. But then he drew back, blinking in the dark, and as his fingers collided with my nose, he ended up breaking it. And I have been in a lot of fights. Normally, I enjoy it. The adrenaline rushing through my veins and the rush of living in the moment are better than any tequila I have drank to date.

But not today. There was no adrenaline, but a wash of pure fear. Being ganged up is not really a good fighting practice. As fight club rule number 4 states, "Only two guys to a fight." and number 5, "Only one fight at a time." I know I was violated. I get a text from Elliot saying that she needs pads, and our beautiful, cheap school has no pad dispenser, and even I forgot to bring one. I did not think it through about why she did not ask literally anyone else, but as a friend, I would rather rush to the store after the bell rings. We get 5 minutes of break after every lecture so students can shuffle to the lectures. I called Elliot, but she didn't pick up. Elliot and I share only a history lecture, so I have no idea where she is either. And.

And.

And?

What next, Avery? What happened after that?

I have no memories. Before I blink, my ears are filled with Val's voice. She is talking, not crying, which shocks me. Why would she be crying? When I stretch my eyelids, my left eye remains closed against a cotton gauge. I hear another voice, deep and gruff—someone touching my forehead. Then, after absolute silence, I hear a cry. A shivering hand holds mine, and a few drops of water fall on my palm, earning a wince out of me. The sound of the broken door tugs at my mind. I am in a hospital bed with a bright light shining on me.

"Is this heaven, Val?" I don't recognize my own voice. But damn, I will admit I love the change in my voice.

The amusement is gone the second I see her face. My beautiful, dear sister, whose eyes shine like honey in the sunlight, is now weighted by dark circles. Her hair is in a bun, but it is still all over the place. My sister's face has swelled up red, and the shoulder that held the stethoscope proudly is now hunched in grief. God, what the fuck even happened?

My lips begin to quiver. I gain my courage before I have any left. "Val? Val? I am okay. Please stop crying." My hands caress hers. "See, I am awake, now? I am fine. Should I stand up? Or maybe, sit?"

"God, Avery. I was so scared." She breaks down again, and it takes all my strength to not join her. "You were out for an entire day. You had broken a rib and three fingers. Your face was covered in blood; I thought you would die."