It's Just High School

Chapter 2

Half an hour passed and I’m still here sitting beside her bed. The nurse said I didn’t need to be here but I insisted I stay. I didn’t want to go anywhere. This chair was right for me. This place was right for me. I’m comfortable here. I didn’t want to leave.

It’s a good thing the next class is P.E. An exemption I have because of playing football. And some other things that I do which favored both the teacher and the principal also come in. Doing a few favors and being me definitely had its perks. It also comes handy whenever you wanted to use them.

But why was I here? For one thing, I felt responsible for her right now. I’m not sure why she fainted but a good guess is that I put on too much stress to her when I did what I did. The poor thing might not have something to eat all morning and scaring her, even though unintentional, might have pushed her over the edge. But something about seeing her sleep intrigues me. She looks so peaceful. Even she was putting me at ease as she sleep. Like I can just be here forever.

She stumbled a bit and then opened her eyes. She rose slowly, like her body was too heavy for her. She squinted, as if it’s hard for her to see and looked around the room. She looked from side to side. She reached for the table near her, flipped her pillow and even frisked her body. It hit me that maybe it was her glasses that she was looking for. I quickly reached for my side, sorting out the things stacked there and reached for her glasses. I rose up and then gave it to her.

“Thank you.” She said while putting her glasses on, and not looking on me.

“You’re welcome.” I replied to her. She was still looking down avoiding my eyes.

“Was it that bad?” she asked in whispered tone.

“What bad?” I suddenly asked confused.

“Did what you do to me that bad for you to have needed to bring me to the clinic?”

“What exactly did I do to you?” I accused her.

“I don’t remember. I just remembered that you called out my name in the cafeteria and then that was that.”

I took one of the chairs and slid it next to the bed. I sat into it and roved my eyes to see how she looks like. Her head was still down and her face was covered by her hair.

“What makes you think I’ll do anything to you?” I asked.

“I spilled your drink.”

“Big deal.”

“Some people make it one. I have to go.” She swung her feet to the side of the bed and braced her arms to get down. She looked kind of shaky but she seemed determined to stand. She took long breaths, trying to steel her body to stand.

“Stay.” I told her.

“I really have to go.” She insisted.

“Here.” I took out a sandwich out of my bag.

“What’s that?” She asked.

“A sandwich.” I said to her emphasizing how obvious that fact is.

“I know it’s a sandwich. What’s that for?” she snapped with an insulted tone and obvious distaste in her question.

“You haven’t eaten yet. If you try to get up, you’ll fall because you haven’t had anything for lunch yet. At least eat before you go.”

“Why are you so concerned?” She asked bitterly.

That tone was too sharp for anyone receiving help and I for one don’t appreciate that fact that she’s being proud even though she was offered some kind. “Is it wrong to be concerned?” I annoyingly asked her to match her mood.