THE END OF the day was near as I prepared for my last class and most hated class of the day. I understand the reason for physical education as not only does it keep us in good shape as teenagers nearing adults, but it also teaches us not to be lazy slobs once we reach real adulthood. We want to be healthy and eat nutritiously, and have beach bodies, but at the same time we want to binge watch Netflix and eat are favorite couch food, like potato chips and mint chocolate chip ice cream. Nothing will ever be fair though and with someone like me who has asthma and an out of shape body, running laps and getting hit in the face by dodgeballs is not fun.
From the very back of the locker room away from the other girls I began to slowly undress. I pulled off the oversized yellow v-neck and stared down at my unnatural flat stomach, the skin smooth with peach fuzz and pale but a long dark pink scar ran across. I touched the scar, the feeling was extremely smooth and slightly bumpy. It was the equivalent to a hysterectomy scar, but both parents and myself knew it was not true. I pulled over my black tank top swiftly before pulling down my paint splattered jeans and replacing them with pink neon yoga pants.
I swiped on some dove deodorant and cheap minty chapstick, before tying my tennis shoes and making my way into the gym with my arms crossed over my chest. The whistle blared through my ears as I flinched startled and pained.
"Alright ladies! Line up alphabetical order please!"
Just great... a sub... a male sub.
The girls shuffled around awkwardly and hurriedly as I leaned against the closed bleachers. Today we were playing a practice round of volleyball and I am honestly not prepared for a butt whooping. But sometimes we gotta do what we gotta do to survive Women's Active Fitness.
(25 minutes later)
The constant pulsating pain in my head was tremendous but there was nothing I could do but take a couple aspirins and hold my head in my hands as the light in the nurses room was turned off for my wellbeing. I felt extremely nauseous and tired and even though the ice pack in my hands numbed my bruised eye, the cold moisture was honestly sickening in my clammy palms. If only this day could already be over, and just as my complaining began my day got more worse than it already was if that was even possible.
The light burned my eyes severely as I groaned in my hands and just as it was on it had turned off, "Miss Heidi? Is that you?" Asked a familiar Spanish teacher.
I only hummed as every vibrations that went through my throat only caused more unbearable pain in my head, "What the hell happened to you?" Mr. Belmonte asked as I could hear him walking around the room and shuffling through the cabinets.
I didn't respond even if it was rude, but I couldn't let everyday socializing cause me pain, "I cut my finger while teaching the damn first years how to carve a stamp" he grumbled through the running water of a sink faucet.
I could hear the faint tapping of his oxfords getting closer before he sank down in the space next to me on the green recovery couch. Normally I would be a blushing trembling mess with him so near, but at this painful tiring moment I only wished for him to leave. It's funny how the tables turn in bad situations. But then I felt the heavy pressure of his large hand on my small delicate shoulder.
"You should stay hydrated to help your concussion" he said softly as I peaked through my fingers at the water filled paper cup held in front of me. How could a man so empowering and intimidating go from being brusque and dominating to being tender and loving... I had almost forgot about what I said earlier:
'He really cared about his students'.
"Thanks" I squeaked as I took the cup into my free hand and avoided eye contact completely.
I felt him squeeze my shoulder gently as he leaned over just enough for me to see his sharp jawline in my peripheral vision, "Don't worry about staying after school this week. Just go home and rest, please" he spoke softly, squeezing my shoulder one last time before I was left cold in the absence of his presence.
YOU ARE READING
Living On Fantasies (ON HOLD)
RomantizmHeidi MacKenzie is starting her final year of High School. Wanting to be the better version of herself so she can get into a good university, she tries her best to keep her grades no lower than a B. She's never been the biggest talker but her new lo...