That part of my wrist that sported the clawed cut throbbed like it had been dipped in hot oil and filleted with a fork for good measure when I woke up the next morning. By third period, though, it had settled into a dull ache.
Progress.
The pain didn't scream anymore, just stung here and there. And boy was that nurse lucky it wasn't, else I'd have been forced to officially label her a quack.
"Seeing as the cut was treated early," she'd said yesterday, tapping her clipboard as she wrapped a white bandage around it. "...the ache will subside eventually. But be careful next time. It could have been much worse."
As if I'd voluntarily asked to get clawed open by a random redhead nobody else remembered, followed by his very impressive disappearing act. Like that whole fiasco wasn't already enough trauma for one Tuesday morning. The way she kept saying next time, you'd think I deliberately stuck my arm into a blending machine and moaned in pleasure as I was ripped to shreds.
"I'm back, Miss Gregory," I said now, smiling as I nudged the medical room door open with my shoulder. My right hand did the work since my left wrist and I were wary of each other right now. I'll simply avoid using it till it gets completely healed.
It was third period, I was free, and I'd rather deal with the nauseating smell of antiseptic now than spend lunch marinating in it later. Even Miss Gregory's perfume could knock out a small animal.
"Irene," she mouthed, pointing one finger at me. The word itself sounded like a question. "No, Diana!"
I almost laughed. "Not even close. It's Ida. I was here yesterday? Wrist injury?" I lifted my bandaged arm a little, further punctuating my words. "You said I looked like a—"
"A raccoon that lost a fight with a rose bush," she finished brightly, then laughed at her own joke. "I remember now."
I stared at her. Wasn't funny then, not funny now either.
"Have a seat, dear," she said, still smiling. "I'll change your bandage in a minute."
As soon as I sat down, I realized the reason for the delay. A guy sat two chairs away in the sick bay, slouched so far back against the backrest of his seat, you'd think this was his world and we were all just living in it. One of his legs was stretched out while his hands hung loose between his knees.
He must have felt my stare, because he looked up. "Hey."
And that's when I noticed his knuckles. "That must've hurt," I murmured under my breath. I'd hate to see the other guy.
"Hey."He said it again, softer this time. "You good?"
I tried to nod like a sane person, casual, normal. But then again, how could I be sure I wasn't staring at someone who might blink out of existence mid-syllable?
I mean, come on. I've been at Qwuava for three days now and in that short time I've managed to meet two weirdos already. One vanished like smoke. The other turned out to be a grown man with a smile that made my skin itch. My odds were trash.
With my luck, this one would grab my neck, bite me, but everyone else would swear I passed out alone again. Maybe I was cursed. Or hallucinating men now. That would be fun.
I cleared my throat. "Hi."
When his mouth twitched, I averted my eyes, pretending to be very interested in the peeling edge of my bandage. Don't stare. Staring gets you noticed. And noticed gets you… well, weird stuff happens with guys around here. You get the gist.
The nurse kept shuffling around behind the counter, humming and blissfully unaware. When he just kept staring I grabbed my seat and shifted for all I was worth. Distance would do me good around here, that much I've learnt about Qwuava.
But of course my balance tipped, my foot slid, and the floor rushed up to say hi my face again. Luckily a pair of strong hands caught me in time.
"Whoa," he said. "Easy."
Too close. Way too close. When I straightened, I found my face level with his chest instead. And boy, it was solid, warm and very real. I stepped back once, then three more times until my calves hit the bed frame.
Oh no. I knew that face.
Not just some guy. That guy. Quarterback royalty and a walking Qwuava headline. The one Izzy never shut up about even before I transferred back to Qwuava High. Also, unfortunately, the one with the famously unhinged girlfriend. Apparently the nutcase was fully capable of poisoning my water bottle if I breathed wrong near him. "Arlo?"
A small smile danced at the corner of his lips as his scraped hand still steadied me from around the waist. "Damn, didn't realize I was that famous." Then he leaned in closer to my body. "Have we met before?"
Shit. "Not really. You just have a very…" My brain blacked out for a second. "...Arlo-looking face."
He burst out laughing then. Who wouldn't, hearing the pile of crap I was saying? Smooth, Ida. You're so smooth.
"Interesting. Never heard that before but okay." When he was sure I was done falling out of my chair, he sat back squarely in his. "So tell me, do you greet everyone by almost face-planting into them, or am I just lucky?"
I don't know how long I kept staring but it was long enough to make it weird.
"I really hope it's the second option," he continued. "For both our sakes."
"Trust me," I said when I finally found my voice. "If I was aiming for you, you'd be on the floor."
His grin widened. "Damn, princess," he muttered. "Noted."
Miss Gregory was walking towards us now, a box of cotton wool and an antiseptic bottle in hand. She took the hand with the split skin as she sat beside him. "Alright, Batman, let's have a look at… oh!" She glanced between us. "You two know each other?"
"Nope," I said quickly.
"Not yet," Arlo said at the same time.
I shot him a look, but his smile only widened as she dabbed the wetted cotton on his knuckles then wrapped a gauze around it.
Next the nurse came to my side and gestured for my wrist. "Unwrap it slowly." I did. When the air hit the cut, I hissed.
Arlo looked at it then back to my face. "What happened?"
I shrugged. "Lost a fight with a hallway." The marks were still there: thin, curved lines that didn't quite look like anything I could explain without sounding insane. But it hurt less now, so there was that at least.
"Looks more like it fought back."
I met his eyes. "You don't know half of it." When Miss Gregory dabbed some antiseptic on the wound I clenched my jaw.
"It's healing," she said. "Still strange, though."
"Strange how?" Arlo asked.
She glanced up, frowning. "The shape."
My laugh came out too loud and way too fake. What was I supposed to say? Some random redhead chatted me up, clawed at my skin then disappeared?
"I know, right? Everyone keeps saying that."
Arlo didn't laugh and his eyes never left my wrist. Thankfully he did give me more room to breathe when he leaned back again. Don't know if you've noticed but lying makes me sweaty and breathless.
~~~
Ida
Miss Gregory was still looking at me weirdly. Arlo had one eyebrow propped up. Hell even I wasn't convinced.
Regardless she wrapped fresh gauze around my wrist with the kind of care reserved for suspicious stains on white clothing. "There," she said. "Try not to aggravate it."
"Define aggravate."
Arlo snorted.
"You're both free to go. And you," she said while pointing at Arlo. "No more heroics."
He was already on his feet. "Yes, ma'am."
I slid off the bed more carefully this time; no fainting, no falling and no accidentally colliding into attractive quarterbacks. Another progress.
Outside the hallway buzzed with lunchtime chaos: lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking, voices overlapping into one loud cacophony. I focused very hard on not limping, on not looking at Arlo, on not thinking about the fact that he'd caught me like it was nothing.
"So," he said, matching my pace. "Are you new?"
I glanced sideways. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only because you haven't learned to look dead inside yet."
Fair. "I transferred back," I said to him. "My family moved out of town back when I was 12."
"Welcome home, then." It's like he couldn't help himself. Even though the topic had changed, Arlo's eyes still flicked to my bandaged wrist every other second. "What brought you back though?"
"Dad got a new job in town. It pays well and comes with better perks."
"Nice." He nodded. "Just watch out, okay?"
I didn't comment on that because by the time we reached the cafeteria, I was already plotting my escape. "For hallways?"
"For Qwuava."