1961 // louis dimucci

Chapter 22

"You can go, Michael," I faintly hear McGee from the outside of her office door.

I stand back a little, and the door creaks open and there stands Michael, holding a wad of bloody tissues to his face.

"Gee," I rush over to him, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," He says.

"I'll meet you in the nurse's office, okay?" I tell him when I see the door knob jiggle.

"Okay," He walks away as Louis exits the principal's office.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I exclaim as soon as he gets two steps away from the door.

"Me? That creep was bothering you!"

"How?! He just wanted to talk!"

"Yeah, he probably wanted to do you again!"

"Will you just let it go?!"

"No!"

"You're a fucking idiot!" I scream at him, "Why can't you just leave me alone?!" I spin around and starting walking in the direction of the nurse's office.

"Yeah? Well... fuck you, too!" He shouts at the top of his lungs and I ignore him, continuing to walk.

Screw him.

I enter the doorway and I see Michael sitting down on one of the beds.

"Hey," I smile at him, sitting down beside him.

"Hi," He says, pinching his nose.

"When's the bleeding s'posed to stop, anyways?" I ask, grabbing another handful of tissues from the box beside the bed.

"Soon, I hope," He drops his blood-soaked tissues into the garbage can and I hand him the pile I just pulled out, "Thanks."

"Isn't the nurse supposed to be in here?"  I ask, looking around.

"She seems to be missing," He replies.

"So... what did you want to talk about?" I say, looking down and playing with my thumbs. I'm kind of nervous. I know that things are going to awkward from now on since we... well.

"Um..." He says, his voice sounding stuffy, because of all the blood, "I've been thinking since this weekend... and I just wondered if we could, I don't know... Give this whole thing a chance?"

What?

"What thing?" I say, giving him a half-smile, pretending to not know what he was talking about.

"Us? I guess... I thought we could just try and go on a... date."

I stare at him. Did I hear him right?

"Just forget it," He says, looking at the biege wall on his right, "I knew you wouldn't want to."

"No, no!" I shout, "I... I think," I put my hand on his knee, "It'd be fun to try."

"Really?" He grins and then winces, "Ow."

"Oh, Michael," I jump, pulling an ice pack out the drawer and rushing back.

"It's my eye..." He mumbles, pinching the tissues harder.

I dab it onto his eye and he grimaces, "Sorry..."

"It's okay," He says quietly, placing his hand on top of mine and guiding the ice pack to the corner of his eyelid, "There."