ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ

41

You can't help but
turn them heads
Knockin' them dead...

__

The smell of anticeptic and drugs.

That was what filled TJ's nostrils as he sat on the grey worn-out leather chair at the sick-bay's waiting room.

The choking smell brought back unpleasant memories. He looked around him, the rectangular room was filled with mostly, sick junior students who were either lying or half sitting on the worn-out chair. A nurse sat behind a round white desk, a fake smile in place as she assured them to exercise patience while the head nurse saw to their needs.

He didn't like it one bit, didn't like that he was at the sick bay, with the least person he wanted to be with at the moment.

He cussed inwardly, chastising himself for being careless. If he had been careful, he wouldn't be with Abike -- who was by the way, nursing her dislocated foot. The distant joyful noise coming from the hall had him sighing regretfully, as he thought of Chimdi.

If he wasn't in such a hurry, the silly accident wouldn't have taken place at first. Then there was the deathtrap the fatter girl was mounted on. The more than six inches strap heel Abike had on was to be blamed, he thought. If she had on a moderate sized heel, she wouldn't have sprained an ankle and he wouldn't have rushed her to the sick bay, had she not been writhing in pain.

He didn't even get the chance to explain things to Chimdi. Sighing out in regret again, the clinical card which belonged to Abike, weighing like a rock in his hand, a silent reminder that he wasn't getting out of the situation any time soon, he decided to give Chimdi a ring, thinking that she must be worried sick, or more greatly pissed off.

His hand searched for his cellphone but couldn't find it, he let out series of colourful curses. He must have left it at the hall.

The nurse aimed a glare his way, and he smiled apologetically in return. Abike giggled and he tried his best not to glare at her instead.

She'd been finding all his frustrating acts funny. Laughing or giggling much to his annoyance. If he hadn't bumped into her, making her to lose her balance - thus the sprained ankle, he wouldn't be sweating his ass off, searching for her clinical card in order for her to be attended to.

He checked the time piece on his wrist, cursing again, this time, internally at the time being displayed. A good sixty minutes had passed.

"What says the time?" Abike asked, hand, absent-mindedly massaging her swollen ankle.

Like Chimdi, she had on a red clothing. But he couldn't help himself from noticing their differing shades and styles. The red playsuit was moderately clinging to her body.

As she raised her head to look at him, the gold loops on her ears made clanging sounds.

He sighed, "Nine-thirty."

"I can't believe we are missing out on all the fun." She groaned, letting her head fall back on the plush chair.

Yeah right? If only you weren't mounted on that deathtrap!

He wanted to throw at her, but held back. His mama never taught him to raise his voice at a woman.

"Yeah," he replied instead, looking around the room. "Here sucks by the way."

She had no choice but to agree. "It smells like Izal, Dettol and drugs." She murmured, leaning forward to rest her head on his shoulder.

He felt himself stiffen for a good five seconds, his senses were on alert even as she let out an exaggerated sigh of relief.

Carefully, he raised her head up. "What are you doing Aby?" He whispered, looking around the narrow room.