The Runt of the Litter

Swimming Against the Current

 Anna is sixteen here.

Swimming Against the Current

My brain was surrounded by a thick film, and nothing was breaking through. That was how it felt as I sat in Hawkins' history class Tuesday morning. My leg was throbbing beneath my desk, a long scar running down it from hip to knee that made my whole body thrum with a hideous pain. I was exhausted beyond belief, blinking awake every few seconds to a renewed awareness of how horrid the bags beneath my eyes were and how awfully difficult it was to think.

What can I say? Three hours of sleep during the past forty eight hours combined with a leg injury sustained in our latest hunting gig doesn't bode well for a high school student. I jerked awake again, this time startling to the point where I banged my knee on the leg of my desk and flinched badly from the pain of it.

"Anna, do you need to see the nurse, or do you think you can refrain from treating my classroom like a preschool? We don't take naps in the eleventh grade."

I looked up at my teacher standing at the front of the room, too embarrassed for the moment to speak. He, fortunately, didn't seem to be expecting any response from me. But he did seem a little more pleased with himself than I appreciated. Well, I surmised as a puddle of dislike for him welled in my stomach, Mr. Hawkins could get as grouchy and condescending as he wanted, but I was acing his class and I didn't need to stay awake to keep doing it.

More to save face than to please my history teacher, I made a concerted effort to stay awake for the rest of class. Unfortunately, not five minutes later, I blinked awake again. I was doing bobs over my desk, much to my dismay, for the remaining half hour of class. The bell finally rang to signal the course's end for the day, waking me once more from my drowsy state on the edge of sleep. I concentrated on not bumping my leg as I stood from my desk. I hadn't even bothered to pull my notebook out like usual and pretend to take notes while I actually doodled in the margins of the page while I wrote out spells and exorcisms in cursive on the page in greek or latin. So, I picked up my backpack, hiding a wince as I slung it over my shoulder and the added weight reached my leg in a shock of pain. I focused on not limping as I headed for the doorway, behind the rest of the class as they all hurried to get to second period.

"Anna." I turned at the sound of Mr. Hawkins' voice and stopped, waiting for him to continue. "I'll see you after school to review the material we covered in class today."

I blinked tiredly, waiting patiently for my mind to process what he'd said. When I finally registered the meaning of his words, I couldn't help but become slightly angry. I was exhausted, I was in pain, and I wanted to go home. This guy couldn't add to my full plate this pile of utter bullshit. In any case, I couldn't afford to stay any longer. The only reason I even came to school today was that Sam had recovered enough to take care of Dean for seven hours. I had to get home as quickly as possible and relieve him. Not that I was excited for another all nighter, but at least at home there was coffee and people who actually harbored some level of care for me.

"I can't today, Mr. Hawkins." I turned to go, but I knew I wouldn't be that lucky.

"Would you rather spend the time in detention?"

I turned back around, accidentally placing too much weight on my hurt leg in the process. It buckled before I had the chance to steady myself and continue defending my argument. I caught myself on the doorframe before my knee hit the ground, and I realized that I hadn't eaten that morning or the night before. I was growing dizzy on top of the disorienting pain in my leg. I'd put the stitches in myself because Dean and Sam were both unconscious. And because I tended my wound last, it bled for a while before I got to it. I supposed I should have eaten, drank, and slept at least a little after losing blood. What I shouldn't have done was go to school. But Sam insisted. Of course, had he been well enough to recognize anything about the state of my health, he would never have let me go, let alone insist upon it.