Cupid's Consequence

Chapter Six: Hallways

Tris was in big trouble. Of all the clumsy things he had done in the last 48 hours of being in his company, this was possibly the stupidest so far.

The chaos started when we pulled up at school about 3 hours late, accompanied by a snarl from the teachers patrolling the car park. The skies were a patchwork of gray and black to match our mood. Clouds rolled over and cast a shadow on the brick building before a small patter of rain began to fall from them. It was. . .eerie, to say the least.

"Since when did this school begin to look so dull." Tris' lips tugged into a frown.

I pulled down the sleeves of my hoodie whilst curling the frayed ends around my fingertips. A cold breeze nipped at my reddened cheeks -- yet another daily reminder to beg my mom for a new coat. "Since when was this school not dull."

"You have a horrible case of high-school-itis," he rolled his eyes. "I've seen worse places."

I snorted. "What. . .like Hell?"

He stopped abruptly in his tracks, his head snapping towards me. Though an angry expression lined his face, his chin wobbled in an attempt to conceal a burst of laughter. "You can't be serious."

I thundered up the school steps, letting my eyes meet his. "I'm sorry. . .what? It was a golden opportunity, --"

"Muna, shhh. Listen." Tris held up a pointed finger. His eyes darted from me and back to the bland building before us. "Can you hear that?"

"Obviously. It's--"

Suddenly, the heavy red entrance door swung open and began to hurl towards me like an uncontrollable animal. My jaw dropped; my eyes widened. Oh God, no. Please don't let me go through the whole rigmarole of getting hit by a ten tonne door for the third time this semester.

Of course, however, my pleas were ignored, and the opening continued to slam right into my temples. Not only did my forehead now match the color of the doors themselves, but the pain shooting through my skull was almost unbearable. It was exactly how I had imagined getting my brain blown up to feel like; except possibly a tad worse.

"Oh my God, Muna. Are you okay?" A familiar shaky voice came into my earshot followed by a few other concerned mumbles.

Immediately, I came to the sudden realisation that I was sprawled across the concrete steps of the school entrance with several other students glaring down at me. I hid my face in my hands, feeling a tinge of embarrassment making my cheeks warm.

"Oh, Gooooooood," I mumbled, my speech muffled enough so that it escaped as more of a groan than actual words.

"Sorry, Muna," through my fingers, I could see that the recognizable face was stricken with guilt. He pushed his hands through a quiff of blonde hair and smiled sheepishly. "I hope you're okay."

Tris grasped at my palms and hoisted me up. He slung my arm over his shoulder. "Come on. We'll go to the nurse."

"Make sure she's okay, right?"

Tris nodded in response. Waiting until the footsteps faded away, I freed my clammy hands from my face. I could still feel the pain thumping like a thousand people banging drums in my brain. It hurt to think. And as if it couldn't get any worse, I could already trace the outline of a bump surfacing from my head.

I was officially barring myself from going near any school doors within the next year, at least. They were so heavy and sharp that I was convinced our principle had purposefully designed them to be a safety hazard. Well, hey, if you can't get rid of the bad students, just knock them out with doors!