daybreak || minsung

Chapter 8

He thought I was cute.

I practically skipped to Biology, forgetting I was late and disgraced. Making good impressions and avoiding awkward human interaction seemed pretty insignificant now. Mr. Banner glared at me, but I just smiled back at him. Mike and Angela were looking at me, too — curious. I shrugged, taking my seat.

Mr. Banner dropped a few cardboard boxes on Mike's table, telling him to pass them around.

"Okay, class," he started, and I was already suspicious of his pleased tone. "I want you take one piece from each box." He stuffed his hand into a latex glove, stretching it out and letting it snap back to his wrist. "The first should be an indicator card." He grabbed a white card with four squares on it and showed it to us. "The second is a four-pronged applicator" — he held up something that looked like a nearly toothless hair pick — "and the third is a sterile micro-lancet." He held a small piece of blue plastic and split it open.

"I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don't get started before I get to you." He began at Mike's table again, putting one drop of water into each of the four squares. "I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet..." He took Mike's hand and flipped it up, jabbing the spike into the tip of Mike's middle finger. "Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs." He demonstrated, squeezing Mike's finger until blood dripped from the wound onto the card.

"And apply it to the card," Mr. Banner finished, holding the card up for all to see. "The Red Cross is having a blood drive in Port Angeles next weekend, so I thought you should all know your blood type. Those of you who aren't eighteen yet will need a parent's permission — I have slips at my desk."

He continued through the room with his water drops. My classmates around me were giggling and squealing as they had their fingers kebob'd. I wrinkled my nose. Pain hurt, and I tried to avoid it, but this seemed mandatory. The anticipation was making me uneasy.

Mr. Banner took one look at me, then asked, "Minho, are you okay?"

Maybe more than uneasy. I cleared my throat. "Yup, I'm okay. Sir."

He seemed skeptical, but he took my hand anyway.

The spike hadn't even pierced my skin when I fainted. I vaguely felt my head hit the table, heard the gasps of my classmates, and then I pulled myself up again — disoriented and deeply embarrassed already. I felt a small sting on my forehead, and Mr. Banner's hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him.

"I'm okay," I said.

"No, you're not," he replied. "Can someone take Mr. Lee to the nurse's office?"

"I can." I looked over to see Mike standing up from his table.

"Can you walk?" Mr. Banner asked me.

"Yes," I said, getting to my feet. My knees wobbled. "Um, Mike?"

He took the cue and threaded his arm under mine, steadying me. Mr. Banner moved out of the way, and we stumbled past him out into the hallway.

We made our way across campus. For once, the chilly air was nice. As soon as I was sure we were out of Mr. Banner's sight, I slowed.

"Can I just sit down for a minute?" I asked.

Mike let me down, and I practically slumped onto the edge of the sidewalk. I touched my forehead — it was sore. I groaned. I still felt like I was swaying.

"You fainted," Mike said nervously.

I looked up at him. "Yup."

"Do you feel any better?"