Scrape

3. Pathetic

"...Pathetic," a voice muttered.

I was so thankful to hear even a pin drop at this point; the floor wasn't the most friendly surface to lie on, and I'd been stuck under this man for approximately...I checked his watch again:

10:05AM.

Twenty-five minutes.

Well, this was awkward.

"I promise you this is not what it looks like," I wheezed unceremoniously.

"It's not my business."

He responded in a bored, monotone voice, and I heard him begin to walk away. I couldn't physically see him; the academy man's shoulder was over the vast majority of my face, obscuring my vision. I couldn't believe that he could  just walk off and leave me stuck here like this! I wouldn't let him.

"Wait!" I called in the direction I thought he was in. "Please, at least help me! I'm begging you..."

On the last syllable, a quiet groan escaped my throat. It was so frustrating to try your hardest to make a good impression, only for it to be ruined by chance. Plus, this man had begun breathing in my face, and the odor emanating from his mouth was extremely unpleasant, considering he looked like he took good care of himself. No verbal response came from the "pathetic" guy. I relaxed my head back onto the floor and sighed, closing my eyes; if I was going to suffocate to death, I'd do so on my own terms.

Moments after I'd decided to die quietly on the floor, I felt the pressure shift on my chest, and then leave it completely. Slowly, I opened my eyes to see a guy around my age, glaring down at me. He had messy brown hair and eyes, was tall and an air of nobility about him. His features were roughly-cut, as if he was carved from stone. He was also unfairly beautiful; with long, dark eyelashes and a toned-looking physique. I identified him as the one who had been talking to me, even before he uttered a syllable.

"Get up, you look pathetic," he told me in a commanding tone, "and stop gawking at me like that; it is bloody uncomfortable. Ugly girl."

At first, the shock of what he had said made my brain pause its clockworks. Then, instantly, the blood began to rush to my head. How rude ! It seemed that the only decent person on these academy grounds was me (which was saying something, as I couldn't stand my internal chatter half of the time).

After climbing to my feet and shaking off my dead limbs, I went back over to the man splayed on the floor, who was still unconscious. I checked his heartbeat and breathing: all good.

"Sir? Can you hear me?" Calling out seemed to do no good.

"His name is Ralph, he is our receptionist..." The guy trailed off, at a sudden loss for words.

Ralph the receptionist. How very fitting. Needless to say, he wouldn't be directing me to a classroom any time soon. But, I knew exactly what to do in the meantime. As my one-man audience watched me, I hastily retrieved the golden doorknob from the bush outside; scraping my arms in the process, and brought it in. I then clasped Ralph the receptionist's cool hands around it and looked expectantly at the guy. The guy whose name I still did not know.

"I suppose you want me to introduce myself. Fine, even though it's a waste of time on someone like you. Luke." He held out his hand stiffly to me, as though I was a particularly unhygienic germ and he was a germophobe.