Yours Truly, Ramona

chapter fourteen | home.

*trigger warning*

~

"Alright, Ms. Carter. Have a seat," Mr. Williamson says after Jasper storms out of the room.

I pull nervously at my sleeves as I take a seat, making sure my braid is still hiding my bruise.

I have to keep from wincing in pain as I sit down, my ribs throbbing in familiar pain.

"You never actually hit anyone, although I did see that you tried to hit Michael. And no, I don't care that you came into the fight only to help Mr. Juarez," he says, referring to Luis.

"Defending someone doesn't excuse fighting on school grounds."

I nod slowly and keep my nervous gaze on my fidgeting hands. I don't think I'm suspended—if I was he would've made me leave with Michael and Jasper.

At the same time, I can tell I'm not exactly off the hook.

"I've decided that because you have such a spotless record..."

Of course, little does he know my record was almost tarnished a couple months back. I got caught with weed, but Jean managed to get me out of going to juvie through those stupid drug-prevention sermons.

"...And due to the fact that you didn't actually punch anyone, you must serve three detentions by the end of the month."

I look up at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Th-that's it?"

He sighs and begins to write me a pass to the nurse's office so I can get ice for my swollen cheek.

"Unless you want more, I suggest you take this and get the hell out of my office before I change my mind."

I do as he says, taking the slip from him and grabbing my bag. If he's going to change his mind, I don't want to be around when he does.

"And one more thing," he adds as I'm about to exit his office.

I pause abruptly at the door and turn to him slowly. "If you get into something like this again, I won't hesitate to suspend you, too."

I nod, letting him know I understand.

"Got it."

As soon as I leave his office I crumple up the pass to the nurse's office, throwing it in the trash as I enter the empty hallway.

I find myself regretting my decision to throw the pass away soon after, as my body begins to radiate with agony after each step.

Maybe I should've gone to the nurse's.

Leaning against some lockers, I steady myself and try to breathe, letting each second pass in slow motion.

Instead of going to class like I'm supposed to, I dip into the bathroom. There's a violent churning in my stomach that's mixing with the pain of the large bruise around my ribcage.

I lock myself in the stall farthest from the entrance, hoping no one else is in the bathroom to hear what happens. As far as I can tell, the stalls are empty.

I violently throw up everything I've eaten in the last twenty-four hours, which isn't much considering the last thing I ate was a yogurt cup yesterday during lunch.

My appetite hasn't exactly been very active lately, and I'm rarely ever hungry.

The only thing that comes up is some kind of yellowish-brown liquid that burns the back of my throat and lungs. The taste of it alone makes me gag again, not to mention the kneeling position I'm sitting in is putting my abdomen in excruciating pain.