Pencil, Paper, and Passion.

Chapter Seven: Fever.

     By seventh period the skies had turned an ominous gray, thunder rumbling threateningly.  By seventh period I'd been stared down, whispered about, and 'bumped into' more times than I cared to count.  By seventh period the news had spread to everyone in the school;  Ryan Laski had been kicked off of the football team and it was all Elizabeth Sinclair's fault.

    I made my way to Mr. Gallagher's classroom as people muttered and glared behind my back.  I rolled my eyes; they were acting like I'd purposely run over someones dog.  Ryan was more at fault than I was.  Apparently, while Mr. Gallagher had been escorting Ryan to the principals office, Ryan had tried to punch him.  If he hadn't, he'd still be on the football team.

    I sighed and, having arrived at Mr. Gallagher's classroom, pushed open the door.  Mr. Gallagher's head came up as I stepped inside.  He nodded, then went back to the paper he was grading, eyes squinting in concentration.  I stared at him for a few seconds, then grinned, setting my things on the desk in the front row.  I walked to about five feet in front of the supply closet, then, after a quick look behind me, I bent and tucked, Ninja rolling into the closet. 

    I peaked from around the door frame and looked at Mr. Gallagher.  His head was still bent over the paper and I put a hand to my mouth, stifling a giggle.  He's totally oblivious, I thought.  I could probably just leave and he wouldn't even notice.

   Shaking my head, I put my hand down to push myself to my feet.  When I felt a piercing pain shoot up my arm, my eyes widened and I let out a surprised shriek.  I quickly lifted my hand and wasn't entirely surprised to find a piece of glass, at least two inches long, embedded into my palm.  I stared at it dumbly, not exactly sure what to do, as blood seeped around the edges of the glass. 

    I lifted my other hand slowly, intending to pull out the glass but someone grabbed my wrist, stopping me.  I looked up as Mr. Gallagher knelt beside me, eyes on my hand.  "What happened?"

    I blinked.  "I- I put my hand down and- Ow!  Don't poke at it!"  I tried to snatch my hand back but Mr. Gallagher held fast.  "Stop squirming, Elizabeth.  I need to see how deep the glass is."

    "But-  Ow..."  My voice trailed off, into a small whimper of pain as he poked and prodded at the piece of glass.  I felt tears well up and I shut my eyes as tight as I could. 

    "Elizabeth, I need you to stand up."  Mr. Gallagher said softly.  I didn't move and his voice firmed.  "Elizabeth.  Stand up."

    "But-"

    He sighed roughly, then wrapped his fingers around my wrists.  He stood up, pulling me with him.  He gently urged me from the closet to one of the lab stations in the classroom.  Before I could blink, he'd picked me up and set me on the counter top.  I watched as he pulled a first-aid kit from a drawer, setting it beside me and opening it.  He pulled a pair of tweezers, alcohol wipes and a bandage from the kit and set the bandage and alcohol wipe aside, picking up the tweezers.

    Grabbing my hand, he went to work.

    "Ow!  Stop it!"

    "Sit still, Elizabeth!"

    "No, I wo- Ow!"

    "This would hurt a lot less if you'd-"

    "Sadist!  OW!"

    "Dammit!  Quit squirming!"

    "You're not su-"

    "Shut up and be still!"

    "No!  OW!  Son of a-"

    "Aha!  Got it!"  Mr. Gallagher held up the piece of glass triumphantly.  I only glared at him, cradling my hand to my chest.  I muttered, "Sadist."