Wind Damage

01. Stretch

        I sneezed again. Her wide circular eyes grew even bigger. “Bless-“

      I sneezed again for the third time. This time she quivered with distress as if she was the one who suffered from the aftershocks of sneezing herself.

        “Bless you, bless you, bless you,” she screamed desperately, as if the world would crumble beneath her if I wasn't blessed for sneezing.

        A few runners who looped around that track narrowed their eyes and scowled at her outburst.

        “Sorry,” she whispered again. “Do you want my sweater?”

        “Why would I want your sweater?” I said.

        “Well,” she stammered, “Cold… You’re sneezing… Um, you shouldn't sneeze, and-“

        “Why shouldn't I sneeze?” I said a little too loudly again.

        “Sorry, I just thought that…” She went back to tugging on her now drenched sweater. It seemed like the sweater was wearing her rather than the other way around due to the stretching from the rain and her constant pulling.

        “If I took your sweater, I would probably end up with pneumonia.”

        “Oh.” She slouched and looked down at the sweater and shrugged. Then she sat back up, fixed her posture, and composed herself. Even when she was a mess, she was still trying to look presentable. Typical, perfect little Mara still existed.

         “So, why are you here?” She said back in a normal tone.

        “Excuse me?” I sputtered at the random boldness.

        “Why. Are. You. Here?” She repeated slowly. It was like sitting up straight suddenly turned her back to her old confident self from three months ago. It’s amazing what good posture can do.

        “I have this as a class?”

        “No, I mean, why are you taking this class. Aren't you a senior? You should be done with gym already.” She stared at me with pursed lips as if she was that little girl again all those years ago who turned the cheek from Ian and me.

        “Shouldn't you be done? You’re a junior.” I pointed out. Our school only required two years of gym, taken in our freshman and sophomore year.

        She bit her lip and said, “I didn't take it as a class last year. The school let me take an extra honor class instead.” Figures.

        She looked over to me again, “You never answered my question.”

        “I failed the class. Two years in a row. Passed my first year but not the others.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie.

        “You’re lying. It’s almost impossible to fail gym at this school” she said.

        “Well I did it.” And ended up being the only student that failed the easiest second year gym course the school offered, not once, but twice in a row.

        “You’re lying,” she said.

        “I’m not. I don’t do the runs, and I never came to class.”

        “I see you run around the city every day,” she said.

        “Just because I run then, doesn't mean I run here.”