"Err- rr". I stuttered and looked away.
"Oh, dear. Your dad called this morning, ``how is your leg". Mrs. Clinton asked, walking closer to me. She stopped in front of me.
Does our Grammy need a babysitter? she just can't keep her hands off her crutches". Thompson mocked as usual.
I turned to him and glared at him as Mrs. Clinton now walked over to him. She stood dead in front of him, her face emotionless. "Mr. Thompson since you've suggested crutches. Could you do me a favor of being Ms. Lara's crutches till she's fully recovered.".
"What?! ". We both yelled and she carried her books leaving us to ourselves. just like that. " Maybe this will help you to mend your attitude towards one another.". she said from the doorway.
