Chex Mix

“Son of a—“

Pause.

Now, if you happened to be in General PE second hour, you would know what happened and why there was some Asian kid strung across a water fountain and a third-person-speaking freshman by the name of Raj. But since I’m assuming you weren’t there, I’ll walk you through it.

I hadn’t seen him coming. If I had, I would’ve done something, believe me. But douche bag McGee hadn’t used his usual introductory, ‘Watch it, Twinkle Toes.’ Instead, he just tripped me right in hallway outside of the boy’s locker room so I slammed into the biggest beefhead in the school who said something along the lines of ‘Want some, ballerina?’ and then I was shoved up into the air only to land partially on a freshman and partially on the water fountain.

Resume.

“—bitch!”

“Get off of Raj!” the freshman below me screams, his matchstick arms scrabbling at my head.

“Jesus Christ!” I yelp as the kid drops out from under me and rolls away, my chin bouncing off of the floor now.

“Do not mess with the Raj!” he hollers and then takes off running while everyone left either gawks or laughs at me.

I shake my head and pull myself forward with my elbows so that I can get my feet off the water fountain. Problem is, one of them is stuck on the part that shoots water out at a weird angle.

“Here ya go, Twinkle Toes,” says one of the jocks who has made me his target for the year and yanks my foot up and drops it to the ground, a pain shooting up my leg. Snickering, the dude walks away.

I grimace and roll over onto my back, then sit up. “…Damn it.” Using the wall, I stumble to my feet and hobble over to Mr. Fuentes, who’s standing just outside the hallway. And yet he missed the incident. Awesome. Just awesome. “Mr. Fuentes?”

“Yeah,” he grunts.

“I did something to my ankle. Should I go to the office or…?”

“Yeah,” he huffs again and then takes a pass slip out of nowhere and scribbles a few things on it. He passes it to me. “Pass.”

I nod and stagger to the office right across from the gym.

Inside, the nurse asks me my name and grade and tells me she’ll go get an icepack soon and that I should sit down. So I do sit in one of the chairs and clutch my ankle.

I’m sure it’s nothing, Paulie. Nothing at all. You’ll be back to what you do soon enough and you’ll have nothing to worry about. That tryout for the dance troop isn’t for a few weeks. You have nothing to worry about. It doesn’t hurt that bad.

Yes it does. You might have broken it. You’re not going to get in and you’re just going to waste away and never dance again.

Shut up. I didn’t break it. I probably twisted it or something.

“Here you go, Paul,” says the nurse, handing me the ice pack.

“Thanks,” I say and hold it to my swelling ankle, finally taking a look around the room. I hadn’t noticed before but there are a few people here already. There’s a girl on a cot who’s not looking at anyone and is shaking a little and there’s another girl inside the bathroom with the door open, her face in the toilet. Somehow she looks the slightest bit familiar… “Ananda?” I call.

The girl lifts up her head from the toilet and peers at me through hair, which sadly has bits of barf in it. She smiles wearily. “Hey, Paulie.”

“What’re you blowing chunks for?” Well, that was sensitive.

Her smile turns slightly sour. “I hate Arby’s. What happened to you?”

“Well—“

“Oh crap!” And then she shoves her face back into the toilet bowl with a sick coughing sound.

Poor kid.

Ananda and I were in a lot of the same classes freshman year, so I guess we’re kinda friends now.

I look back to my ankle, shifting the icepack a little.

And then I hear some commotion coming from the doorway.

Two guys are carrying in an assumedly unconscious girl with long blonde hair and fair skin. Her mouth is slightly parted and red. They set her down on the remaining cot and then go to tell the nurse what happened.

I’ve never seen so many kids in here. I wonder why.

Is it Friday the Thirteenth?