Mr. Smiles and Mr. Badboy ✔

Chapter Nine: Secrets

Earlier that day . . .

Reese P.O.V

Walking into science I looked around for my partner, who was already sitting at our desk, his head resting in his hands. He looked awful, to be honest. No doubt he looked like he was about to pass out of the desk and never wake up again, which would be rather unfortunate since I needed him to complete the project with me. That, and I'd hate to get sick myself. It isn't like I could afford to take myself to a doctor if I did get sick so I hope that by sitting by him that I don't get infected with whatever he was sick with. At least, he looks sick. I've come to the conclusion that I am automatically assuming he's sick. Then again, his face is so flushed, and he looked like he was sweating a little bit. His skin looked like of pasty. He didn't look like he even needed to be in school right now. He looks like he should be at home cuddled in his blanks taking a long nap to sleep the illness away, not sitting in his chair in science class while trying to keep himself awake. It's not just me seeing this issue either.

Some of the other kids in class were occasionally glancing over at Beckett with concern in their eyes. They were clearly concerned about Beckett. Then again he was a popular kid, known for his kindness. So no wonder they were weirded out by his unusual attitude. Usually, before class, he would greet our peers, talk, and laughing, spreading happiness. Today he walked in like a . . . this. Looking like he couldn't care about school in the slightest, and honestly, it really showed. I'm kind of concerned he didn't even try to socialize with anybody.

So when the bell rang overhead, Beckett had already laid his head down on the table and within a minimum of five minutes into class, his eyes closed and they have yet to open. This caused many concerned glances, even the teacher looked concerned in Beckett's direction. Yet the teacher has said nothing about Beckett laying his head on the desk which kind of angers me for some reason. What if he's really sick and needs to go to the nurse? He shouldn't even be in school let alone in class with noise. You have to imagine with him being sick that this noisy classroom is actually hurting his head. He should probably be in a quiet room without noise.

While the class went on, the more concern filled looks Beckett got. I was occasionally glancing at him watching as he seems to get worse within the span of the class period. Within the fifteen minutes left of class, the teacher allows us to converse within the class. I reach over to feel his forehead and it was easy to say he was burning up. I look at him with more concern and look back up at the board, packing all of my belongings up as well as Becketts, even though almost everything was already packed up because he never took anything out, he was unconscious. I glanced across the classroom and everyone else was packing up, chatting at an acceptable level, but still a little loud in my mind. I could tell Beckett didn't like the noise either because when I glanced down at him when the class had one of the louder moments, his face scrunched up in displeasure.

When the bell is about to ring, I gently place my hands overtop his ears to deflect the noise of the loud ring. I could tell it was still heard but I at least it was muted to a quieter point. As everyone else grabbed their stuff to head to their next class some going to lunch others going to their next class because they have second lunch. I remain sitting at my desk watching Beckett, hoping that he would get up but he remains unconscious. The teacher had walked out as well, most likely to go to the teacher's lounge. I hear the bell ring overhead yet again and decide that I'll personally take him to the nurse's office myself since it is apparent that he can't take himself to the nurse at this moment. That and I don't want to wake him up. He looks like he really needs the sleep he's getting. Once the bell has rung and I'm sure the hallways are cleared out, I lift him up into a bridal hold and begin to carry him out of the classroom ignoring our stuff as I can always come back to get it later.

I carry him down the school's hallways. Beckett's forehead resting on my shoulder, hiding his face in my neck. It must have been a natural instinct for him because I didn't place his head to be moved to my neck. His head was incredibly warm, most likely from his fever, but it warmed my naturally chilly skin. It made the skin of my neck tingle with a funny feeling I've never experienced before. It was, enlightening.

I hurry to the nurse's office, which I've been inside a hand-full of times, mainly for bruises or sprained fingers. Yeah, punching people can result in bruises and sprained fingers and usually I don't care about the bruises or sprains. They all heal over time, so what's the point in complaining about a temporary injury that I'll most likely have happened again. This was the first time I've ever had to take someone to the nurse though. It was weird. I wasn't used to caring about someone, especially if it was this annoying ball of energy and kindness. If it had been anybody else I would have left them in the classroom which left me with one exact thought in my mind, something that had struck me since the moment me and him had our very first interaction with each other the day the project got assigned.

What makes you so different, Beckett?