Carolina Wren

Chapter 15

Wren's POV

I hate being late. I hate being late more than almost anything else in the world. Rushing makes me anxious and it's something that haunts me for the rest of the day. Like the entire schedule stays the same while I'm racing to catch up, perpetually behind and stressed. I go out of my way to ensure I don't feel like that. Schedules are my friend.

This morning the schedule had gone to hell in a handbasket. I slept through my alarm and by the time I got Juni her bottle, she was pretty confident she was starving and gorged on it. Which, naturally, led to her spitting up all over herself, requiring her to be cleaned up. We had been alright on time up until I started getting dressed, myself. I would be skating in by the skin of my teeth, but I'd be on time.

Then Juni blew out her diaper. All the way up her back. Necessitating a full-on bath and outfit change. By the time that was done, Keegan had managed to turn the TV on and get engrossed. Pulling him away had been a loud and violent test of my future beatification. Dylan had started reading and had whined about wanting to finish his chapter before we left and was a grump all the way to school when I wouldn't let him.

I swear, demons come into your house and possess your otherwise amazing kids in the mornings. It's the only explanation I can come up with.

Dylan had been dropped off with only ten minutes left before the bell, so I was looking at getting to the high school after the 8 o'clock bell. Which meant I was missing homeroom and I'd be late for first period. I could already feel my classmates staring at me and the way Sheila's hand would smack across my skin when I was assigned detention for being late.

She hadn't been at home when we got back from the store after school, yesterday. She wasn't stupid, she knew we didn't have enough money for real meals. Sheila is always more concerned with her own comfort over ours. There was no way she was going to slum it with us, eating soup that was thrown together with the cheapest ingredients that I could find and force to stretch between two complete meals.

Even with her not being at home, I wouldn't be able to hide detention, though. She might ignore the school calling her over my truancy, but she wouldn't be able to ignore the elementary school calling because I didn't make it in time to pick up Dylan. If no one turned up, it would climb the ladder of office workers until Sheila got the kind of attention she didn't enjoy. She'd make it home to beat my ass one way or the other-- either for having to pick up Dylan or because a principal got involved.

Absorbed in how much trouble I was going to be in, I almost missed the figure stumbling across the student parking lot as I rushed towards the school. I would have missed him completely if he hadn't stumbled into a newer car and set off the fragile alarm. Loud honking drew my eyes in the direction of a muscular redhead lifting himself up off the hood, swearing as he tried to stumble his way towards the school.

My heart sank. "Nathan?" I called out. His hand was holding onto his ribs like he was trying to stabilize them. He was limping and bowed over and when his head turned to me, I let out a small cry before running to him. His face was red, bruises already forming as his left eye swelled and his nose bled.

As my hands gripped his upper arms, he grimaced in what I think was supposed to be a comforting smile. "I'm alright, Wren. It looks worse than it feels."

Shooting him a disbelieving look that I hope portrays that I know he's full of shit, I take a closer look at his face. If he's not feeling any pain it's because of adrenaline, not a lack of severity in his injuries. "Nathan, what the hell happened?" I breathed, his unhindered blue eye following mine as I gently turned his head to get a better look.