OVERLOOKED ㅤkotlc

003. The Girl

It's odd being here without a uniform on.

It's a Sunday, too, so normally I'm not even at school. I push aside the heavy doors of the prism, and start walking towards the Healing Center.

My footsteps are so loud they echo, but I'm not even stomping.

I follow the twists and turns of Foxfire for a while. I know it hasn't been that long, but these few minutes feel like hours. It's too quiet, and it's too... pristine.

It must be at least two minutes before I hear someone else. At first, I honestly don't pay any mind. I keep my attention on the tiled floors, and I desperately hope that those other footsteps aren't Fitz, because that would be awkward.

But then I realize there's someone in front of me, so I look up, but by then it's too late, and we've crashed into each other, and her face is surprised and embarrassed, and—

We're sent tumbling down. Her hand scrapes against a locker and I hear her inhale a sharp breath, as I land on my side.

"Ah—" I scramble up, why is the floor so slippery?, and hold out an awkward hand to attempt to help the girl I bumped into. "I'm so sorry—I didn't know you were... I wasn't looking where I was going. Sorry."

"I-It's okay," she says, accepting my hand. I help pull her up, and we both stand there for a moment. "Sorry," she adds.

"No—no, it's okay." My face feels hot. "Are you okay? Is your hand...?"

She holds her hand up and turns it; there's a red gash running along it. A drop of blood slides down, landing on the tiled floor, and she winces. "Ah—hopefully that doesn't stain it, or... yeah," she says, her voice trailing off.

I search my pockets—I swear I had a band-aid in here somewhere. A balm or something would be more useful, though.

There it is. "H-Here." I hold up a band-aid. "I know this isn't that useful—and I don't have disinfectant, but at least it'll..." What do band-aids do again? Why isn't my brain working? "At least it'll... cover it," I finish lamely.

The Girl looks at me, a hint of a smile on her lips—I can't tell if it's amused or nervous. Probably both. Her eyes are an interesting color, too. Cornflower blue, shot with molten gold if you look closer—an illusion of delicate electricity.

I shake my head and pass the band-aid to her, and she easily opens it, as if she's had tons of practice doing so. But then she fumbles to place it on her cut, and it's... really... awkward.

"Ah—here." I reach over, gently pressing the band-aid onto her cut and holding her hand still with my other hand. I don't look at her, and I can tell she's holding her breath.

"Sorry," she mumbles. "I'm left-handed, and I'm not used to putting band-aids on myself. Sorry for all this trouble."

"No, it's okay—don't apologize! It's nothing." I finish up and draw back, and the Girl kind of relaxes. "There. Hopefully I did it okay? I'm not used to actually using band-aids."

"No, you're good." She turns her hand, studies it, then lets it drop to her side. "Thank you." She hesitantly smiles, and I smile back.

"Hey, why are you at Foxfire anyway? Today's Sunday, right?" I say.

"I'm going here starting tomorrow, and Magnate Leto let me look around and stuff." She pauses, fidgeting with the band-aid. The blood that'd dripped onto the floor is smudged. "You looked like you knew where you were going earlier, so you're not new, right?" The Girl thinks for a moment. "And you passed all the classrooms. The only places in this direction"—she gestures behind her—"is the cafeteria, office, and the Healing Center."