The Jock's Nurse for the Summer.

Chapter Three.

"Whatever you need, I'll pay for." I tried to reason with him, even though the profit of selling my entire house wouldn't even be enough to buy him a cast.

"I don't need your money, Alexa." He replied, almost looking down at me; I knew that he had already figured out I wouldn't be able to cover for anything.

Nagging my brain, I tried to assemble a sentence together, but all I could manage was a mumble. I sounded pretty stupid. And the award to the most socially awkward person goes to, for the 17th year in a row, Alexa Enfield!

Before I could collect the award to place in my mental hall of shame, the pair of doors swung open in one quick motion, and in entered two people, both rushing to us. Oh Sweet Joseph, I thought quickly. How was I going to explain this one to his parents? I had seen them before quite a few times before during the times our high school held formal meetings. They were both achieving people and I'm sure they planned to raise a fit, athletic man of high ability, not a broken, limping man of a walking disability. A woman in her thirties, I guessed, hurried to Jackson's side, cupping his cheek with her manicured hand. The man stood at the side of the bed, and his gaze quickly met mine.

Don't look, Eliza! You foolish girl!

But it was a little too late, much to my sorrow.

"So, what happened?" He began, a very stern expression planted on his wrinkled face.

I tried another attempt at that thing I couldn't do when placed in awkward situations like these; I tried talking. There was a silence, a silence of so much awkwardness that it beat every other silence which I had to suffer through, even when I accidentally broke a vase in a museum - due to my luck, it was worth 1.3 million dollars - and I was forced to sit in an office with the manager. Somehow, a tiny percentage of luck seemed to be on my side when I was excused with just a warning.

My brain took a bit of time trying to process words, and some more time auditioning phrases to say. Somebody get me a huge shovel! I thought. I might as well just dig a hole for myself, and live the rest of the days as a mole. Sounded better than being stuck there.

"Some crazy driver hit me with a car, and this girl helped me get to a hospital."

Wait, what? My glance shot straight to Jackson faster than a bullet, and a confused expression hung on my face, but I quickly had to play that out so that his folks wouldn't suspect anything.

"We really appreciate it, darling," His mother swiftly rushed to me, placing her hand on my shoulder "Thank you so much for looking out for our baby."

If only you knew, I thought. Whilst looking past her straight, thick blonde locks, I caught a glimpse of Jackson smirking. I guess we shared the same thought, then. But why was he doing this? It didn't really seem as though he liked me very much. Actually, I was sure if he was in a room with Hitler, Justin Bieber and me, and he had a gun loaded with 2 bullets, he'd shoot me. Twice.

To be quite frank with you, I actually wish Jackson and I had sustained what we had of a friendship. We were mates for a short while in the beginning of high school, we'd spend after school locked in my bedroom, listening to music my family didn't like. It was fun. He was fun. I remember him changing rapidly when the taste of popularity got to his head, and he had transformed into a very big jerk. We separated, and grew far apart from each other, and our personalities clashed. But this was the first non-sucky thing he'd done for me ever since I fell off his blue scooter, and sprained my knee to which he, - with speed equal to Flash's -  ran to his house to fetch a band aid for me.

"Mum, Paul" He said, switching his glances from one to the other, "I'll be alright, you guys don't have to worry about me."

"Well, we still have a lot of packing to do, so is it okay if we finish that and we promise we'll be right back to pick you up?" His mother retreated back to the position right beside his bed, clutching onto his shoulder.