Am I Dreaming?

Trouble

     Oliver Ward is the boy from my dream. I do admit that I had a crush on him last year, but the first year of high school has separated us. I'm focusing on the enrichment program and Oliver is trying for a sports scholarship. The only time I see him is in the cafeteria at lunch and I'm lucky if I get a chance to wave.
     All through chemistry class I can't keep my thoughts on my work. I heat a beaker too hot and it cracks and then I accidentally add the wrong chemical to my mixture and send a thick, green foam splattering around the classroom. My teacher dismisses me early. All this mayhem for one boy... what have I done to myself?
     The bell marking lunch snaps me back to reality and I go meet up with my friends. I tell Melody and Jasmine about tripping and dropping my stuff and how that led to seeing Oliver again. How I had found the owner of the eyes from my dream.
     "OMG, Lauren!" Exclaims Melody. "Oliver is the boy from your dream?! The one you had a crush on last year?"
     I nod.
     "But you haven't seen him for a year now." Says Jasmine. "This has literally come from nowhere."
    She was right. It had come from nowhere. Question is, why?
     We continued talking and laughing obnoxiously until the bell rang and we went off to our next class. I struggle with paying attention again, but I manage to make it through the rest of the day without blowing anything else up. Soon enough, it was dismissal and, as always, Jasmine, Melody, and I were the last three students in the hallways. I always wait for my friends' parents to pick them up before I start walking home so we take the time to discuss their lives. It was good to have a topic change, and my life felt almost normal for a minute... almost.

•••

     I began to walk through the empty parking lot, starting on my way home, when I hear muffled voices coming from around the corner of the school. Cautiously, I investigate. I have to swallow a gasp when I see Trent, the school asshole, kicking Oliver who is curled up in a ball on the pavement. Trent is the quarterback for the junior football team at our school. He takes lunch money from the "nerds" and shoves anyone who stands in front of him. The only people he doesn't aggravate is the jocks, because he is one. A wave of confusion flows through me... Oliver is the captain of the basketball team. A jock. What is Trent doing?
     I continue walking, pretending not to notice them fighting, I take a selfie of me, just catching the boys in the background. Evidence. After setting my backpack against the wall, I walk up to Trent, hide my fear and say, "what, exactly, are you doing?"
     He smirks, "This piece of shit had a problem with how I get my lunch. People pay when they get in my way."
     You know that voice that kindergarten teachers use with the kids because they think it makes them easier to understand? I used that voice on Trent, "And is this the way we deal with our problems?"
     His smirk fades, "Screw off, princess."
     I flinch at the title, but otherwise force myself to remain calm. Trent wants a reaction. He won't get one.
     "Why don't you go play with your dolls." He adds.
     My hands ball up into fists so tight, my knuckles turn white. Trent notices. He smiles.
    "You gonna hit me?" He asks, mockingly.
     I lost my composure. I punched him share in the jaw. He brings his hand to his jawbone and laughs. It's dry and sounds like it's scraping his throat on the way up.
     "Try it again, princess," he says. "I normally don't hit girls, but if they deserve it, I won't hold back."
     Fear glinted through my body. I took a second too long to make my features emotionless.
     "That's what I thought." Trent huffs, turning back to Oliver.
     That's when I see it. A knife sticking out of Trent's back pocket. Without thinking, I grab the knife and throw it down a storm drain. Trent spins and lands a punch to my nose. It starts to bleed. He winds up again and hits my jaw, splitting my lip. He's only punching with his right hand. I can use that. I put my arm against his right fist and spin, hitting him in the jaw with my elbow. Before he can recover, I kick him in the groin, hard. He collapsed, a small tear seeps from the corner of his right eye. I kick him again on the back of his head, making him loose consciousness.
     Shaking with adrenaline, I look down at Oliver. He's sitting up, gawking. "Wow." Was all he could muster. I pick my backpack up and take out my mini first-aid kit my mother makes me take everywhere. This is gonna be awkward.
     "Oliver," I start, "do you mind taking off your shirt so I can clean your cuts?"
     It was uncomfortable, but he agreed. Slowly moving his arms, he pulls the bloody tee over his head and sets it aside. He looks bad. Trent's knife had made three long gashes along Oliver's muscular chest and gouged his forearm. There was an odd bend to his arm, too. Like it had been held behind his back, and snapped. I began to blot at Oliver's chest with a sterile cloth, he winced the first couple times.
     After getting all his wounds cleaned and wrapped in gauze, I took out a sweater from my backpack and made a makeshift sling for his arm. He called the paramedics and we were both taken to the hospital to be checked over.

Hey guys!!! Sorry for the length of this chapter, I hope you liked it! Next chapter tomorrow.