Karma (Wendip)

6. "Can we be friends?"

PE class was as tiring as always. Today, the boys, including myself, practiced volleyball. It was a girly game, but Coach De Buque (pronounced day-b-you-ck) loved it.

Coach De Buque was a tall skinny bald man. He looked young; 35 at oldest. He was very enthusiastic with everything he did, except when someone got hurt or when someone was in trouble.

"DIPPER! Lower your waist! Legs need to be spread further! You not a girl on her period, come on!"

My cheeks flushed. I could hear the laughter. Coach De Buque didn't mean anything bad by that comment. He was a jokester, and he was kind and fair.

Sometimes, however, he can be a little incentive.

"Okay!" I shouted. Following his instructions, I squared further down and got ready to hit the ball.

My partner, some guy named O'Ryan, spiked the ball. In a fit of desperation, as I was horrible at ALL sports, I jumped forward and hit the ball. Just not with my hands...

Coach blew the whistle so that everyone stopped. "Dipper, you okay?" Of course, I couldn't say anything while pain coursed through my nose.

"Oh no... Some one take Dipper to the nurses office." Coach De Buque shouted. Someone volunteered. I didn't know who, because, well, my nose was currently bleeding. I didn't want to get any blood on the floor.

I felt arms guide me to the exit doors. I groaned in pain. I accidentally pressed a soar spot on my nose.

I briefly peeked at the person who was supposedly helping me to the nurse's office. Suddenly, the pain and discomfort in my nose and mouth was overlooked.

Bill was helping me... Bill... was... helping me... this can't be good.

He didn't look at me. It almost seemed like he was ignoring me.

"What."

My cheeks flushed. "Oh... n-nothing. Sorry."

I looked forward, now paying heed to where I was going. My hands were still safely cupped around my nose, regardless of how my hands were filling more and more with my blood. It was getting hard to breath.

By the time we arrived at the nurse's office, I was breathing through my mouth.

"Hell-oh... coke here." The nurse ushered us inside. She roughly placed me in a soft chair and dashed to a cupboard  brimming with bandages and cloth,

She got some wipes and handed them to me, telling me to clean my face in the restroom. I couldn't grab the wipes, my hands being occupied with blood at the moment.

Before I could say anything, Bill grabs the wipes and escorted me to the bathroom. He did so nine too kindly. He aggressively effaced the blood. I didn't even have time to complain before he was done.

I blinked, slightly shell shocked.

I looked at Bill. He still wasn't looking at me. That's when I realized he was grumbling to himself. I caught words like revenge and a beating, but that was it.

Was he going to beat me up for getting a nosebleed? I sure hope not...

I knit my eyebrows together at the thought. Bill was never really fair. He only beat up what he wanted, when he wanted, for whatever reason he wanted. He was cruel.

"Oh, good. The bleeding stopped. Just keep you nose up until you get to your next class so that it can fully dry." The nurse said from the bathroom door. She disregarded Bills inarticulate speech.

I nodded and faced my nose up. Carefully, I walked out of the office, Bill following close behind. He bumped into me and simply walked passed, not bothering to apologize. He never does. (I tried looking for synonyms for the word "bump", because I felt that it was getting repetitive, and found "Hump"... lol. "He humped me and simply walked passed..." hahaha!)