The new, geeky kid in school gets partnered with a popular jock in biology. He believes that geeks and jocks can't be friends until this particular jock proves him wrong. And there may be something even better in the air...
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After his family mo...
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-Sky-
When Mr. Peterson was taking me to the hospital, I thought it would be just a couple of stitches and I would be done with the incident. I tried my best not to think about what had happened, or about the dark water. With Max by my side, I thought I could get over it just like that.
But I was wrong.
It took twelve stitches, a hysterical mother and an angry father, two cops, a social worker, a counselor, a newscast group, an angry principal and a hysterical homeroom teacher, a board meeting, two suspended students, three expelled students, a lawyer, then another lawyer, two more interviews and flu medicine for me to even begin to start getting over it.
It was horrible. Max was by my side the entire time, but all I wanted to do was cry from exhaustion. I was in pain. I was scared. I had almost died, and for what? For two days after the incident I kept asking myself, why? Why me? Why did I have to go through all that? Why didn't they just leave me alone? I didn't want to talk about it over and over again. I had to relive it over and over again, and all I wanted to do was to forget.
Then I learned why.
On Thursday afternoon, when my father helped me out of his lawyer's office, there was a woman with a teenage girl sitting in the hallway. I recognized the girl from school – I was pretty sure she was a junior – but I didn't remember her name.
She was quiet and shy, her brown bangs were hanging in front of her eyes, and she held her arms wrapped around herself, like she was trying to shield herself from harm. She stood up and gave me a shy glance.
"S-Sky?" her voice was nothing but a tiny whisper.
"Yes?" I said in confusion and glanced at my dad.
"I... I want to t-thank you," the girl continued quietly, and I turned to look at her again.
"For what?" I asked as kindly as I could – I could tell she was a nervous wreck.
"For stopping him," the girl said and rolled up her sleeve.
There was a big bruise, shaped like a handprint, on her thin arm.
"Did he do that to you?" I asked in shock.
The girl nodded shortly, and her eyes started watering up. "H-He... He t-thought i-it was funny... I was too scared to tell... for two years..." she trailed off and started to cry. Then she suddenly hugged me, and whispered, "Thank you."
I patted her back gently and waited until she was ready to let go. She gave me a tiny smile, and I had the feeling it was her first smile in a long, long time.
"I'll tell them now," she sniffed, and her mom put her arm around her shoulder before they stepped into the lawyer's office.
