Stalls ✔️

E L E V E N

1 1:

I knew it wouldn't be long before I would have to face Rain properly.

Last periods were always unbearably boring; a whole hour dedicated to English revision, every single day. I thought this was ridiculous, since exams didn't start until the start of June and I had plenty of time in study leave, which begins in mid May.

School was either way too prepared, or enjoyed shoving bricks of pressure onto already stressful students. But I think it has something to do with Mr. Nelson's cheap, tacky teaching, if we're figuratively speaking. Why couldn't he just have stuck on a film?

Whatever was happening outside of the prison windows (commonly known as school) seemed a whole lot more interesting than what was going on behind the cinder-block walls, so I stared glumly. It was pretty dull outside, but it wasn't pouring either. Sixth-formers were leaving earlier, since they have free periods, swinging their bags and causing mayhem between themselves. I knew Wren would be amongst them. Grizzly men were cutting the dead flowers from the garden patches, huffing like old engines.

My ears prickled at the conversation behind me; it was purely humorous.

"Yeah, straight up there!" Blake chuckled.

After a continuous few minutes of being absorbed by their ridiculous conversation, it became clear to me what had happened previously. To sum up, the class nerd, Blake Holland's goggles had filled like a bucket in last nights swim session. He kicked off the wall, arms spread like a butterfly and then... his hands had disappeared into the butt of his crush.

My attention was drawn away when Mr. Nelson placed a hand lightly on my shoulder. Today, I noticed that his cuffs were buttoned appealingly and he wore a fresh, pressed shirt.

I thought of how easy people can just change in the blink of a blind eye, even in the simplest of ways. It scared me.

"Sorry to interrupt your revision," he spoke, a cautious glint in his eyes, "but Rain wants you to go to the bathroom with her. She feels as though she's gonna puke, and doesn't think she can make it down by herself. Is that alright with you? I can ask someone else, since you're so incredibly busy." Venomous sarcasm oozed from his lips.

I think teachers got tired of putting on that professional persona by the end of the year. They just stop pretending.

I glanced over at her. She shot me a weak smile, her cheeks a shade of pasty white and green, contrasting against her dark hair that was pulled into a loose half-pony tail, a large emerald bow to accessorise. A gut feeling implied she was lying to us.

"Alright, fine." I huffed, pulling my things into my backpack, and accompanying her.

🌿     🌿     🌿

It was only 15 minutes later that we'd managed to reach the stalls. She fell weak at the knees in front of the stool. She may have made a mistake, but she wasn't lying about this.

Consequently, I did the right thing; I became the person I needed when I was stood in her shoes. Empathy, that's all it accounted for.

Carefully, I took the loose bits of her hair and held them, my body wedged between hers and the wall. I spat out convincing words to sooth her.

Pathetic of me, I know.

Perhaps I care too much for people that would leave me beside the road if they had the chance to. I handed her the brittle tissue, and she wiped herself down. Helping her get to her feet, I beckoned her towards the social area.