Wouldn't it be Funny?

Chapter 8

"So, do you bleach your hair?" Aaron spoke from behind me. I would like to say that I didn't jump, and I was cool as a cucumber. But alas, that would be a lie. I leapt a foot in the air, and twisted my foot when I came down.

"Ow ow ow ow!" I hissed through the pain. One thing I could be grateful for was that this happened after practice. We had returned to the field after eating the lasagna, and I started Aaron on his drill. We had just left the field after it started to get dark, and hopped the fence to take a short-cut through the parking lot. I looked at the ground where I twisted my ankle. There was a hole hidden in the grass.

Perfect... I need to ice this. Hopefully, I'll be okay for tomorrow.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! I asked because your hair is so light." He wasn't wrong, my ridiculously long hair was also ridiculously blonde. Almost white.

"I'll be fine, the pain is already fading." I lied through my teeth, "and to answer your question, no. This is my natural color."

I remembered the day my parents told me I was adopted. I was almost offended that they didn't think I figured it out. They were an Irish looking bunch with their pasty white skin and rusty hair. I, on the other hand, had rusty skin with pasty white tresses.

Straightening to my feet, I struggled to walk normally. After all, the pain was only mental. It took seconds before I realized that even pain in my head was too much. I gave up and sat on the grass, glaring at the parking lot that I would have to hobble over.

The Rec. center is farther than I remember.

"I need to take a breather... here." I tossed him the key to the front door, "let yourself in, I'll catch up later." Aaron caught the key with ease and his face twisted in concern.

"You're being ridiculous." He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. My arm slipped around his back and I used him as a crutch. "Let's get you to your room, alright?"

I sighed in agreement. I didn't want to trouble Aaron, he was my guest after all. But he didn't seem bothered at all as he practically carried me through the doors and into the manager's apartment. He courteously dumped me on the couch and wordlessly handed me a bag of ice.

"I hope this doesn't ruin your master plan for my band camp." He adjusted pillows under my foot to elevate it and he sat next to me on the couch.

"It won't, I'll recover fast and be on my feet in no time. We need to get you through your drill before Tuesday, so I'll march on it even if it still aches a bit." He was about to protest, but I silenced him with a hand on his face. I put my hand down and I leaned back on the couch, tilting my head to the ceiling. We sat like that for an hour. He refused to leave despite my constant prodding.

"It doesn't even hurt anymore!" I protested. Tossing the ice bag off my foot, I swung my leg off the cushions and limped slightly to the kitchen. I was frustrated beyond feeling any pain in my foot.

I have to get stuff done, I don't want to spend my entire break cleaning this musty building!

"What are you doing!?" You need to stay off your foot!" He looked almost angry as I dumped the melted ice into the sink.

"I'll be fine. I have stuff I have to get done and I've wasted enough time." The clock on the oven read 7:17. I sighed, realizing that I would get nothing done with my foot like this. "Well... I'll have to come back to finish after thanksgiving then." I mumbled to myself. Defeated, I limped back into the living room space and leaned on the back of the couch. I could at least retire to bed and get the chores done in the morning.