Although it's the First Time

Chapter Fourteen: Gratitude

I returned to school the next day with a bounded limb and aching back.

Due to my broken dominant arm, I hadn't taken any notes. Instead, the teachers would either hand me the notes themselves or ask another student to make a copy for me. My classes so far had been pretty relaxing.

Sitting in math class, I attempted to doodle with my left hand. Sadly the dog I drew looked more like lopsided ovals over lopsided circles. The bell finally rang and I headed towards biology.

"Daisy!" The familiar voice called. I ignored it and walked to class acting as if I didn't hear.

I sat down at a desk near the window and watched the pigeons fly by. The seat next to mine screeched as someone pulled it back, allowing room for them to sit.

"Daisy," Vincent poked my casted arm. "I was calling you in the hall. I thought you weren't coming to school today. I missed you this morning."

That morning I had made certain to wake up early and arrive to school before Vincent. I slightly  faced him and grunted, then returned my gaze out the window.

Class started and like the many before it, I just sat back and watched as the teacher lectured and the students frantically took down notes.

The end of class came and Vincent offered to take my bag and escort me to my next class.

"No. I can get there myself," I replied dourly.

His eyebrows knitted together, "Your back isn't good and you arm is broken."

I exhaled heavily and reminded him that it wasn't his fault. "I have my next class with Brooke. My arm is already broken because of her. I don't need her to chop it off next."

Sighing he nodded and handed me my bag. "See you on the rooftop," walking away.

I walked into English with a scowl on my face and hands that did not posses 500 sentences. Just as I was going to explain, Mr. Greg nodded his head knowingly and shooed me off, telling me I could write it when my arm was better.

Returning to my seat, I glanced over at Brooke. She whispered and giggled with her friends while staring at me. Facing forward, I brought my hand up and scratched my scalp with my middle finger.

All at once the giggling halted and I could feel death glares sending daggers my way. Filled with satisfaction, I smirked to myself.

Class started, again I sat in my seat and observed the work everyone around me was doing.

Throughout the class period, Brooke and her larvae continued to bug me. They threw paper balls, erasers and many other items while the teacher's back was turned. I returned each item, but my left arm was blessed with horrible aim. I was only able to hit a few of them.

Soon, the lunch bell rang and everyone snatched their bags and headed out the door.

I struggled for a while to get my bag over my shoulders, but eventually gave up and just carried it by the handle.

Exiting the classroom, I noticed  Vincent was talking with Brooke in the distance, near where my locker wad located. His face was serious, whereas Brooke was wearing an innocent mask.

Although it was none of my business, curiosity got the best of me as I trotted near them. I had made it seem as if I was being pushed closer to them due to the crowds of human traffic, but I was purposely leading myself there.

As I neared my locker, I was able to catch a small snippet of their conversation.

"What are you talking about," Brooke whined. "You saw. I was right next to you."

"I'm not stupid. Your tactics are childish. I know that you tripped her. So I'm asking–no. I'm telling you to keep your distance from her." Vincent replied bitterly.

One could only imagine my surprise. Sure, he said he'd deal with them, but I wasn't expecting it to be so soon... nor in such a public place.

I walked past them and entered the hall and continued to my locker. I twisted in the combination and slowly placed my text books back into my locker, in a neat row and picked the ones for my next classes. I slowly put the books into my bag, just as I had slowly placed them into my locker and zipped my bag.

After grabbing my lunch from the shelf of my locker. I slammed my locker shut. Carelessly, I slammed my broken arm into a hard body. I groaned in pain. Tears were barley forming in the ducts of my eyes as the pain seemed to have increased.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry," Vincent cried trying to examine my arm.

I held out my left hand, signaling for him to stop. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to push back the tears. The pain eased away excruciatingly slow, but eventually diminished.

I finally opened my eyes and glared at him. "What do you not understand about one feet?"

He replied with a shy chuckle while stroking the back of his neck. I sighed and shook my head in disappointment. Only then did I realize that all eyes were on us.

There were the girls who stared with jealousy, hate or both. Then there were the boys who looked amazed at either the fact that I actually spoke or because Vincent, the school famous kid, was speaking to me. Then there were the kids who were only looking because the others were, but didn't really care for the situation.

Whispers and giggles of conversation began to fill the air. I looked to Vincent, who didn't seem to notice. He continued chatting away, although I had completely zoned him out already. The attention was making me nauseous. My head was throbbing and my stomach was threatening to push the banana I had for breakfast, out of my system.

My world seemed to shrink as more and more people began to criticise. Tightening my grip on my backpack, I meandered back to the door that led me into this hall. In the distance I could hear someone calling after me, but I ignored it. I pushed open the door, allowing fresh air to fill my lungs. A pair of footsteps followed closely behind, but I continued to the rooftop, breathing heavily and trying to maintain my composure.

When I had finally made it to the top, I settled down in my frequently visited corner. Taking in deeper breaths, my lungs seemed to deny the oxygen and began to burn.

I frantically dug through my bag to find my inhaler. Digging through a bag with one arm was impossibly difficult. Through my fiasco of noise, I failed to hear the door open and close.
Heaving for air, I finally found my inhaler and immediately set it against my lips and sucked in the medicine. The burning sensation settled as I closed my eyes and absorbed the air around me.

I smiled to myself. I was happy to be breathing normally again. Happy to be on the rooftop. Happy to be away from those intimidating stares.

Suddenly, a pair of cool hands were on my face. Wiping away whatever wet substance that had stained the area under my eyes. My eyes fluttered open and connected with beautiful grey ones.

"Why don't you have lunch with your friends?" I asked, my voice slightly cracking.

His hand slid down my cheeks, back to his side, as his whole body slid down to kneel in front of me.

"I am having lunch with a friend," Vincent replied softly, staring at me as if I'd crumble to ashes without his gaze to hold me up.

I shook my head. "You know what I mean."

Cocking head to the side he smiled sadly. "Why are you crying?" He asked bringing his hand up to brush away the drips, flowing from my eyes.

"The wind, there's something in my eyes," I shot him the biggest smile I could manage.

We sat in silence, looking beyond each other until the bell rang. I slowly got up and picked up my bag. Walking past Vincent I patted his shoulder that acted as a silent 'thank you'.

Honestly, I wasn't sure what I was thanking him for. It could've been for castigating Brooke, for not questioning me too much, or for simply being present.