Behind the Glasses || a.i.

Chapter 2

 “See you tomorrow, dear!” Ms. Farce calls to me, as I walk out of the shop, onto the almost empty streets.

 I wave, and the door swings shut. Not paying attention to where I am going, I bump into someone. I trip over my own feet, falling to the ground, my open bag spilling its contents all over the sidewalk. My knees hit the pavement, and I hiss in pain. Before my head can hit, I throw my hands in front of me, crushing my wrists with my weight. My left one pops, and I feel dizzy. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” the boy gushes.

 “No, no, I should have been paying attention,” I apologize. I look up, and he bends down onto his knees, squatting down to my height. I close my eyes, willing the excruciating pain in my wrist to go away with my mind.

 “You alright?” he asks, seeming concerned. The boy has an accent, although, due to the spinning world around me, I can’t place it.

 I bite my lip, nodding my head. “Fine,” I tell him, my eyes still sealed.

 “Are you hurt?” he questions.

 I gulp. “I think I’ll be okay,” I say, unsure myself, but not wanting to bring my problems on him. I sit back on my heels, opening my eyes for the first time. Everything spins faster, and my right hand flies up to my forehead. “Whoa,” I whisper to myself. I begin to tip over, and he catches me by the shoulder.

 “You’re not okay,” he states. “What hurts?”

 Giving in, I mumble, “My left wrist, my knees, and I’m dizzy.”

 “Well, your knees are scraped,” he begins. The boy gingerly takes my wrist in his hands, and I recoil in agony when he touches it. “I’d get that checked. Where’s your car?” His head is whipping around in search for my vehicle.

 “I don’t drive,” I tell him.

 He looks at me, bemused beyond belief. “What do you mean? You don’t have a license?”

 I shake my head. He sighs, standing up. “Well, let’s go,” he exhales, extending his hand.

 “Excuse me?” I ask.

 He looks annoyed with me. “I’m taking you to the hospital. Now, let’s go. My car is over across the street.”

 I chuckle bitterly, shaking my head. “I’m not getting in your car. I’m dizzy, not stupid,” I remind him, shaking my head.

 “Really, now?” he asks. “Then how are you getting to the hospital?”

 I scoff. “I just won’t go. I can’t afford it anyway.” I shrug my shoulders, and stand up on my own, nearly falling over. I suddenly grow cold, feeling the color drain from my face. “I’m gonna be sick,” I murmur.

 “What?”

 Just as I said, right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, I drop back to my knees, and I vomit. The boy just sits and watches with wide eyes. I begin dry heaving, and my face becomes bright red. “Please just go,” I beseech. I sit back, kicking my feet to the side, and putting my face in my hands.

 “Are you drunk?” he blurts, ignoring my plea.

 I drop my hands and glare at him through my clouded vision. “No, why the hell would you ask?”

 He shrugs. I lean back against the wall, no strength to get up. He sits next me, even though it reeks of digested food. “Do you want me to call someone to come and get you?”

 I sigh. “I don’t know… My apartment is only a few blocks away. I think I can walk.”

 He raises his eyebrows, an amused smile on his face. “Just let me drive you. I’m not going to do anything. I have a girlfriend,” he explains. “I wouldn’t risk all I have.”