Rehearsals With You ✓

Chapter Thirteen: Mondays

Monday . . . do you want to hear what I think about that specific day? It is so profoundly persistent in a student's life I could write an essay about it. They are the beginning of an exasperating cycle, the moment with which we are thrust upon a hellhole, it's the dawn of a coerced activity and a day celebrated by teachers like Ms. Summers. If Monday was a god, she would bow her head to him in an offer of appreciation, a thanks for simply existing. But that's not what all she would do. Ms. Summers would gather a tenfold of people and make them believe in its esteemed greatness.

Have I mentioned I hate Mondays?

Have I mentioned I sort of hate Ms. Summers?

Her idea of lifting our spirits was to make us run laps in the field under the scorching sun. I wiped a sweat on my forehead and forced my trembling legs to go farther. This is so not a fun activity. I mean, all the biking and running away from Grey did pay off but seriously, who does this for fun?

"Go, guys! Ten more minutes and you can rest!" I heard Ms. Summers shout and I glared at the back of the person in front of me. I was lagging behind. I knew I could keep up if I put some effort into but I was never one to care about something I have no interest in. "Stewart, I know you can do better than that!" She encouraged.

"Bitch," I muttered. Ms. Summers was young and sexy. The boys followed her like a puppy while the girls held her in high regards. I'm usually one of them but right now she's not one of my favorite people.

Someone chuckled beside me. I turned my head and saw him beside me. Why was he at the back of the group like me! "Luke-" That was all I could say before I tripped in thin air and dropped in uncomfortable position. My hands were outstretched in an instinct to soften the fall while my feet tried to step on nothingness. I face planted the ground.

"Shit, are you okay?" I heard Luke ask from somewhere above me. My eyes were closed in shame. "Hey, are you alive?"

I opened my eyes and saw that everyone has stopped running and was looking at me. Some of them did a pretty good job at holding their laughter, I'm very impressed. "Stewart, are you alright?" Ms. Summers walked over me and she and Luke helped me sit up.

I scratched my palms and knees. Small rocks stuck to the skin and the tiny amount of blood stained it. "I'm fine. Just a little scratch."

Ms. Summers shook her head and ordered Luke to take me to the infirmary. "Do you want me to carry you?" He asked.

I shook my head. "No, I can walk." I stood up and my legs almost gave away. Stretching them made my knees hurt. "Probably," I added as Luke took my arm and put it around his shoulder. He wrapped one hand around my waist and I limped my way to the infirmary.

I huffed in pain. Ms. Summers was now ordering the rest of the class - some nice ones looked concerned while the rest giggled. I don't blame them. I would totally laugh if I wasn't the one who tripped.

"You know, this would be faster if I carried you." He suggested good-naturedly as we walked away from the group.

"Yeah. But the scratch would hurt like hell if you bend my knees. I'd like to be in lesser pain, thank you," I answered and I felt him chuckle at that.

"How could you trip with your own feet?" He teased.

"Hey! It happens, you know," I defended while we continued to traipsed - he traipsed, I limped - towards the direction of the infirmary. The hallway was empty so the sound of our painfully slow footsteps felt loud.

It took us minutes to get there.

Once we reached it, Luke opened the door and continued to help me walk to a bed. "What happened?" Mrs. Black inquired, the school nurse.

"She tripped herself during gym class," Luke answered for me while I smiled sheepishly.

Mrs. Black shook her head before disappearing somewhere, probably to take some first-aid.

"Thanks." I smiled at Luke.

He grinned. "Not like I had a choice. Ms. Summers would kill me if I said no." Oh, she totally would. Ms. Summers was a cool and fun teacher -I just wished she taught a subject I love instead - but she grilled anyone who didn't follow specific orders.

I rolled my eyes.

"Alright, I should head back now before she wonders if I skipped the rest of the period," he said and I offered him one last smile but before he was out, I remembered something.

"Please don't tell Ms. Summers I called her a bitch!" I yelled and I heard him laugh from outside. I was serious though, I hope he doesn't snitch me out.

"Those scratches would scar your legs," Mrs. Black said, reappearing. She carried a chair in front of me and began treating them.

~•~

I limped, without anyone's help, in the empty hallway. Students were still in class and my knees and palms still bloody hurt. I couldn't move my legs without being in pain. But on the other hand, I could use this as an excuse for gym the rest of the week. "Freaking gym class taught by freaking Ms. Summers."

Any minute now the bell would ring and I only have twenty minutes to change out of my gym clothes and go to cafeteria before it gets crowded all the while impeded by my limping.

I was just there, drowning in my own misery when I suddenly Grey appeared, jogging towards me. Why must he be here? I groaned. I can't extract any physical pain as I was in physical pain, I'll have to use my wit then.

I stopped and crossed my arms. When he saw me, his eyes widened. He looked back behind him then towards me then back behind him then towards. My brows furrowed. Was he running away from someone? Once he reached me, he grabbed my arm and dragged me towards the nearest janitor closet. I whimpered all the way, knees hurt, my palms throbbed. "Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch."

He opened the door and pushed us in. He closed his hand on my mouth and placed himself against me I could the warmth of his body.

It was dark. So dark I couldn't see anything. And it was so small. Cramped. Barely any space left. He removed the hand was covering my mouth and lifted to place both of his beside my head. I couldn't see but I knew it was there. I was frozen in place. Our breathing both sounded harsh and heavy. I could feel his warm breath fanning my forehead.

And there was only one thing I could think about.

~°~

Author's Note:

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