deskmate in the painting

IX. It Was Him

The next morning, I woke up feeling completely drained and with a pounding headache. My mom noticed I had a high fever and decided to take me to the clinic.

The clinic was across from the elementary school, and with winter in full swing, it was packed with people suffering from colds and fevers. We joined a long line, and the wait, coupled with my general discomfort, made me increasingly restless. My headache worsened, and I soon felt a stomachache. The small private clinic didn't have a public restroom, so I had to rush to the nearest school restroom, where I ended up having a bout of diarrhea. Afterward, I felt a bit better and hurried back to the clinic, hoping I wouldn't miss my turn.

As I passed by our classroom, I noticed an open window with a head poking out. I was puzzled-why would anyone be in the classroom on a Saturday? Was it a result of my fevered imagination? I rubbed my eyes and, indeed, saw a figure. It was Zhang Jun, half out of the window.

Confused, I approached him and asked, "What are you doing?"

He flinched and turned around, "Oh, what are you doing here?"

"I'm sick and had to use the restroom," I said. "What about you?"

"None of your business. Go away," Zhang Jun said, slipping back into his usual arrogant self as he shooed me away.

I noticed he was holding a small plastic bag, with some notebooks and pencils poking out. I immediately realized what was going on.

"So, it was you, Zhang Jun?" I said.

"It's none of your business. Stay out of it!" Zhang Jun glared at me before sprinting off.

"You can't run forever. I'm going to tell Mr. Zhang!" I shouted after him.

"Go ahead, haha!" Zhang Jun laughed loudly as he ran, not bothering to look back.

I watched him disappear into the distance until he was just a tiny speck. During this, I even forgot about my headache, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of Xiaojing: her flushed, smiling face, her soot-covered face, her tearful face, her hopeful expression when she was waiting for me to return the pencil...

I glanced at Mr. Zhang's office door, feeling a strong urge to rush in, find the pencil, and return it to Xiaojing...

But another intense headache hit me, and I stumbled back to the clinic, drowsy and disoriented. I finished my appointment, got my IV drip, and eventually made my way back home in a daze.