Chasing Rebels

Chapter 3

"Oh, dear. What happened?"

"I tripped down the stairs while I was rushing to class." The lie comes smoothly on my tongue.

"Well, that's not very lucky of you," the nurse comments as she peels the gauge on my stomach.

I bite the inside of my cheek at the mild sting. What hurts the most though, was the bruise surrounding it.

"Story of my life."

As expected, one of the stitches came out. Just one though, so the bleeding wasn't much. If the nurse was fazed by the sight, she doesn't voice it out, which I very much appreciate. There weren't enough people in the world who can respect your privacy.

"Can I ask, how did you get these stitches?" she cautiously questioned.

"Car crash, I hit a tree. Windshield caved in, got hit by an unlucky shard."

A rehearsed lie, but one that no one always questioned. 

The nurse stares at me for a moment as if disbelieving my words before grabbing a cloth from a cabinet. "I'm sorry. Though, this is a pretty intense aftermath from just hitting a tree."

I shrug, not giving an effort to explain. No one ever follows up with that excuse anyway. A part of me was grateful that the woman didn't engage in small talk to eventually get me to open up about the accident.

The memory was fresh on my mind. One that never fails to usher a throb to my wound as if it was remembering how it was made as well.

"We need to replace the stitch. I'll call the hospi—"

"Can you do it here?" I cut her off.

She blinks. "What?"

Hospitals were a last resort. If I get myself treated by one of the self-righteous doctors with a keen eye for spotting—or assuming—abuse, people will ask questions. And questions were always no good.

I clear my throat. "I mean, you know how pricey hospitals are these days." At this rate if they keep finding me, I might have to sell a kidney. They don't always familiarize themselves with the term mercy.

My stomach can attest to that.

The nurse shakes her head. "You're going to need anesthesia if—"

"It's just one stitch, I don't need it. You can do it, you're a nurse." 

She thinks about it for a moment. I hold my breath.

"I'll have to ask the principal."

I refrain from letting out a relived sigh. "Okay."

"I'll be back . . ." she trails off.

"Sylvie. My name's Sylvie."

She gets up from the chair taking her phone with her as she goes for the door. "Give me two minutes, Sylvie." Politely, I smile.

Something catches my eye from the south region of her nurse's uniform.

Something with the color brown.

I bite my lip to suppress the guilt that etched its way into my heart. For a moment there I had forgotten about the little trip Mal and I took before the sun rose. I don't bother telling the nurse about the paint clinging to her ass. It's a shame if she gets a free pass while the other staffs don't.

The nurse closed the door behind her and I carefully lean back against the wall.

"Damn, and here I thought I was almost going to die with a migraine," someone says from inside the room. Before I have the chance to look around, the curtain divider from the only other bed next to mine slides open revealing a woman slowly sitting up. "But really, I'll take any excuse to have five minutes away from Watts's class."

"Uhm . . . hi?"

Her eyes trail down to my torso and they bulge. "Good God, now that I'm actually staring at it, it looks way worse than how you made it out to be."

Carefully, I pull my shirt down, which I only now realized revealed way too much skin, down to my torso hiding the flesh wound.

Her head makes a gesture to my body. "The nurse wasn't exaggerating when she said that's way worse than your typical stab to the gut. Where you hit by a bulldozer?" she asked not hiding the fact she was eavesdropping.

I frown. "That's none of your business."

As if realizing her mistake, she puts her hands up. "Right. Sorry. Curtains don't really drown out the noises."

"You don't say?"

The girl with mesmerizing blue eyes smiled warmly at me. She could easily pass as a model with her blonde hair if she opted to wear skinny clothes. I kind of like how she didn't mind wearing baggy jeans and a My Bloody Valentine shirt. "I'm Shannon. I prefer it you call me Shay."

I can't help but return her smile. "Sylvie."

"I know. I'm guessing you're new here?"

I nod. "Just moved a couple of days ago."

"Yeah? How do you like it so far?" Her body tips forward ever so slightly, her apparent migraine gone with a deep interest in knowing my character.

Which to say sets off alarming bells inside my head.

I have to tell myself I was being ridiculous. Shay was merely just being friendly. I can tell she was the type who garnered enough caution from people yet is still always making an effort to be friendly to an extent. 

Although, the preceding few years of my life taught me to take every precaution possible. A pretty girl with a knack for wanting to be friendly could possibly be grounds to a stab in the back. Literally.

"Bland." And infuriating. I don't forget my encounter with the dickhead earlier at the hallway, I don't think I will anytime soon. "Same four walls and a roof. It's all the same in these high schools." In the ones I've been to, at least.

"Do people tell you you're kind of intense?"

I let out a small laugh at her honesty. "There are always bigger fish." One of which I had the displeasure of unknowingly let break my stitch.

"What class do you have right now?"

"Uh, room twelve."

"Ah. Life don't favor you after all, Sylvie. You're with Watts. A little hint, he's even bitchier than a dog drunk on caffeine."

"Is it too late to switch?"

"Afraid so. But don't worry. I'm with Watts too, so you're not going in blindly."

I let out a relived breath. It was always good to have someone looking out for you, even if it's not necessarily a friend.

A faint panging noise from the school's PA system erupts overhead cutting Shay and I's conversation short.

"Good afternoon, students, I hope you are all doing well on your first day. Recent events regarding what appears to be a prank delegated by unknown individuals have been made known by some teachers and staff members. This morning we discovered that most of the teachers' desk chairs were covered in paint which left their," he cleared his throat. "bottom region painted as well."

Shay snickered and I let myself break out in a smile. Mal would have loved this.

"To those with involvement with the fact are encouraged to speak up otherwise severe repercussions will be made. If any of you have information regarding this matter, please kindly see me during, before, or after school hours. Your cooperation is deeply appreciated. Have a good day everyone."

A long beep followed signaling the end of his announcement.

"Man, whoever did that s**t was fuckin' insane. You should have seen Miss Marilyn at her office. The paint on her ass looked like she really s**t herself." Shay hops down from the bed and a surge of pride hits my chest. "Anyway. I better get going. Watts is a lot of things, but a dumbass isn't one. Soon enough, he'll see right through my damsel act."

I shrug. "You can always use the red tide as an excuse. Works every time."

A small mischievous grin appears on her face. "I like you already. I'll tell the Watts you're in the infirmary."

I still. Questions leads to answers. Answers leads to more people knowing.

"Uh, could you maybe—"

"I won't say anything about your . . ." she looks down on my shirt covered stomach and offered a solemn look. She winks. "I'll just say you have period pains. I got you," she assured before leaving me alone in the room.

That somehow made me smile.

This might not be a bad day after all.