nerd.

six

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Arielle Evans 

Release. The one thing I have been waiting for since I was dragged to this claustrophobic area they call a hospital. The words I've been waiting to hear were finally said.

 "You're free to go, Miss Evans, but you are not allowed to perform any physical labor or activity for the next few weeks to avoid further damage with your concussion," Doctor Allen told me. I nodded, and when he leans down to write something on his clipboard, I study the balding patch on his forehead to busy myself. The fluorescent lighting makes it shine, and the gray hairs surrounding the area are straight but untamed. He lifts his head and adjusts his glasses. "Your family should be here soon to receive you. Until then, you can change and get ready." With that, he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him. I draw the blinds before changing into capris and a loose T-shirt. I open the blinds again, determined to get some light into the room. I slip on a pair of Adidas socks and my favorite sneakers. A knock on the door interrupts me while I am in the midst of tying the lace of my right shoe. I unlock the door to reveal a gorgeous Mason standing outside the door with his hands in his pockets.

 "Hey, Arielle. I told your mom I would come get you. How are you feeling?" He says, rocking back and forth on his heels.

 "I'm okay, Mason. Thanks for coming," I reply politely. He nods and smiles, and I return the favor with the weak smile I can muster.

 "Are you ready to go?" He asks, gesturing at the empty hospital room.

 "Yes. Let me just get my phone," I tell him. I jog cautiously into the room, pick up my iPhone, and come back out of the room, where Mason is waiting. "Okay. Ready," I follow him to the lobby, where he tells the receptionist that I am being discharged, then we head out to his car. I gawk at his sleek silver BMW convertible with its hood down.

 "Coming?" Mason jokes. I manage a smile and sit down on the warm leather of the passenger seat. He pushes the keys into the ignition and the car roars to life. We are riding in silence until I finally speak.

 "Why?" I ask without thinking it through first.

 "Huh?" Mason asks, glancing at me for a second before looking back at the road.

 "Why? Why did you risk your status for Marcel and I? Why did you try to comfort me that day? Why? You couldn't just leave us be, could you?" My voice shakes with tears. I suck in a breath when Mason swerves off the main road onto a back road. Thankfully, it is clear, so Mason stops the car on the side of the street.

 "You wanted me to leave you be when you were suffering?" Mason asks, a pinch of sadness in his voice.

 "At least I didn't have a concussion, broken ribs, and a splint on my foot." I'm crying now, though I don't know why. "Marcel would be perfectly fine right now if you just let them tease us, if you went and sat with your friends."

 "I can't leave you be, though, Arielle." Mason says.

 "Why?"

 "You're...um...You're..." Mason struggles for words.

 "Spit it out, Mason, please, I can't take this any longer."

 "You're innocent. You were struggling, and suffering. You were like a wounded puppy, and I wanted to help you," he blurts.

 "A puppy? You think I'm an innocent little puppy who can't take care of herself. News flash, Mason. I'm not. Neither Marcel nor I need your help, because we are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves." My next actions amaze me as well as him. I slap him across the face. Hard. "You're a jerk if you think that, Mason," I spin around and start to walk away. He runs up to me and grabs my arm, accidentally twisting it just as Chelsea had. I cry out, my face contorted in pain.

 "Oh, I'm the asshole? Who took you to the hospital, payed your medical bills, and is driving you home right now? Who made sure that you didn't get teased on the bus? Who saved you from bullying? Was it some stranger? No, that was me, and you should be grateful instead of calling me an asshole, Arielle," Mason hisses, his breath hot on my face.

 "You saved me from bullying, Mason? You?" I whisper, tears streaming freely down my cheeks. "Look at you, Mason. You're grabbing a victim's sprained wrist and telling her she should be grateful." I swallow, trying to keep my voice from shaking, "You didn't save me from a bully, Mason. You are a bully."

 Mason's expression changes completely, from one of rage to one of terror of what he has done. He drops my wrist immediately. "No, no, Arielle, please, please, I didn't mean to do that, I swear it," he blubbers, and I shake my head, sobbing. I take the chance to run away from him, run away from the bully who I thought was my friend. I limp as fast as humanly possible down random streets, my head spinning, sobbing loudly, my eyes erupting in tears. I run into the forest that connects to the one behind my house. I am scratched my several twigs and branches, but I barely notice the stinging pain as I sprint by. I hear Mason's voice behind me, but the sound is lost when I reach the back of my house. I dash to the front of the house and fumble with the key, jamming it into the hole and turning it before stepping into the house and locking the door. My mother sees me and her eyebrows immediately furrow together.

 "Arielle, what's wrong, honey?" she questions. I shake my head, not wanting to answer the question. I just lay down, and cry and cry into my mother's lap with her long fingers stroking my fiery red hair, because all I needed was a release.