Health Class❦a.i au

1; two pieces

ella

health class notes

day 1

depression always leads to death. not nessicarily true, but yeah. 4 types of depression and well.

wait

this new guy just came in AND SAT NEXT TO ME WHY NO HIM MR. SHOE MOVE

~

"Hey," his voice is deep, yet high pitched. I look up from my notes to smile shyly, noticing his glasses on his nose and his stacks of notebooks and numerous books. "Mind if I take a seat?"

"Not at all," I whisper, cleaning up some of my stuff so he can scoot in to fit in the table. We're the only two back here sitting, the very back table that my health teacher, Mr. Shoe, had assigned me.

It was originally just me back here, alone and it's how I liked it. Now with this new kid back here, the feeling is squashed and I feel shy and awkward.

Mr. Shoe would probably want me to socialize, want me toa sk his name and be friends wiht someone for a change. But the words can't come out of my mouth. I can't even look at the kid, just stare blankly at the board in front of the class, where the assignment for today is written in large lettering. I keep biting my lip, a nervous habit for me, and tapping my foot.

And before I can think to stop myself; "Hi," flows out of my mouth. It sounds quiet and shy, and I'm thinking to myself he hadn't heard it, when I can see his grin from the corner of my eye.

"Hi there," he whispers back, pushing the glasses back up on his nose. He fits the 'nerd' description well. His cheeks are a light pink, and I'm sure mine are the same color.

"I'm Ella," I say timidly, looking over at him while twirling my pencil in my hand.

"Ashton," he chuckles nervously, and licks his lips, looking from the table to the board. He begins to write down notes in one notebook, covered in strips of red and blue duct tape. It looked cool, the desgin he had cut it in, but the colors hurt my eyes so I had to look away.

Now that there was someone sitting next to me, a guy for the matter, I had to hide my wrist. Granted I wore a hoodie to where it could hide it itself, but eventually he'd ask why I wore long sleeves every day and in May for the fact.

My wrist was cut raw, red and I couldn't even turn it a certain way or it'd burn and some would reopen and my wrist would be gushing in blood, something I really want to avoid.

"This subject makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it," Ashton whispered, his head dangerously close to my ear. I tense, wondering if my hoodie inched far enough up my arm. I hesitate, looking down at my arm, seeing that it's covered completely, and slowly look over to him.

"How did you know?"

"You seem all tense... and your notes in your notebook make it kinda obvious," his face is flushed, and I'm positive my goes even paler. I flip my notebook shut, even though he had admitted to already reading it.

"Oh..." is all I can think to say.

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nERD ASHTON SOMEONE HELP ME