Reliving Yesterday ✔

Chapter 6.

"Did he hit her?"

"What? No! Are you crazy?"

"I wouldn't mind if he had."

"Shut up, Chanel."

"What? She's nothing. She should just -"

"I swear, Chanel, I'll kill you. The girl fainted and you're badmouthing her."

"Give it a rest, Blake."

My head swarmed, but I knew I was regaining consciousness. I felt a groan escape my lips. The muttering stopped. "Alex?" I heard and opened my eyes, but my vision was still blurry. "Alex. Hey, can you focus on my finger?"

I could faintly make out something that looked vaguely like a finger. I blinked a few times and looked again. This time I saw a long finger held out in front of my eyes and I angled my head to look at it. "Sure," I said, groggily, "I see it."

"How many fingers is this?" I couldn't make out the voice. It could have been any guy in my class.

"Four," I said, and sat up. I was on a table. Probably, the one in the coach's office. I looked around seeing coach, with an ice pack in his hand, look completely relieved. Standing to my right was Hanna, looking completely worried and behind her, Jackson had a hand on her shoulder with a concerned look on his face. He was almost always undeterred and unworried. On my left, stood Blake, who's fingers I'd been inspecting. In the far corner of the room, stood Chanel, leaning over Parker, but looking my way with a dubious look on her face. Parker as usual, looked cold and wore an expression of complete and utter indifference.

"You gave us a scare, Hale," coach said, getting up, "But according to your friend here, it's usual thing. Do you have any pills you take?"

"Han?" I questioned.

She held out my little bottle of pills to me. I always had them on me. With a pang I realized that it was usually Parker who was standing by my side hoping that I was OK.

Ten Years Ago

"Alex? Alex, honey? Can you hear me?" I heard my dad's voice, vaguely above my head.

I turned my head from side to side, the light hitting my eyes. Slowly, opening my eyes, I saw my dad smile at me and move away to tell someone, "She's fine."

"That's great," I heard Parker's dad's voice and he came into view, smiling at me, "You're a fighter, kiddo. Keep going."

It wasn't till then that I noticed Parker. He was sitting on my right, a worried expression on his face, a banana with a bite taken out of it in one hand and my bottle of pills in the other. He looked like he was about to burst into tears and even for eight-year-old Parker, that was a feat.

I looked at him and smiled and that made a huge smile spread across his face, and his bright green eyes shone, the fluorescence making them appear more golden. He dropped what he was holding and hugged me tightly, like he never wanted to let me go.

"I got so scared," he mumbled into my hair, "I know I was there when it happened the first time, but it was just you and me and I got so scared. I don't know how I got you here."

Unable to remove myself from his grasp, I lifted my head from his shoulder, "You carried me here?"

He pulled away, a mischievous grin crossing his face. "You're not that heavy. I'm bigger than you."

It was true, but I'd never let him win. He and I tried to compete with each other; who was the fastest, who had better aim, who was the strongest, who could throw the furthest. Parker won the last two, but not without a fight and we were pretty much head to head on the other two, but I think I had the upper hand at aim, especially. Guys could run faster than girls; that was a fact.