"Opinions aren't facts. Stop worrying about what other people think about you."
Kylie Francis.
I stand there, the ear-piercing buzz vibrating across the school, the rushed voices excited about missing lesson, the shift of chairs and slams of doors. The alarm glows a bright red, flashing its light in the dark corner I am currently in.
Luckily, none of the boys notices as panic rapidly occurs, the severity of their predicament dawning on them. Wind whips at my hair whilst I cover my ears and witness as the two boys, who held the guy in the red hoodie, scurry to their feet. The leader (a.k.a. Mr High-top) addresses the blonde boy once more, shouting:
"I will come back for my money! You little piece of-"
"Kevin lets go!" One of the other boys screams over the alarm and I swear, I even see a vein slightly popping out of his head.
Reluctantly, 'Kevin' obliges, leaving the boy panting on the floor. His two friends trail at his heel, hastily leaving the scene of the crime. Once I make sure that they have truly left, I run towards the boy who lies panting on the ground.
Groaning and holding his side, the guy in the red hoodie often slips in and out of consciousness, muttering curses under his breath. Peering at him, I see that his blonde hair, is styled into a quiff with defined fade outs on the side. His skin is awfully pale and his body isn't exactly muscular. More lean and fit than muscular. He has a strong jawline and small, round nose. His lips are full and pink.
"Get moving!" I think.
How am I going to this?
And that's when I realise.
The nurse always keeps the back door to her office open.
"Be quick Val," I say through gritted teeth.
Managing to get the guy on his feet, I drag him to the nurse's office which thankfully, isn't far from here. Kids file out of there classroom as we turn the corner and as I predicted, the door is open, letting me right through. Hauling myself and the injured victim into the room before we are spotted, I realise that I'm extremely out of breath. Furthermore, I know nothing about nursing an actual person.
"It's not that hard. Just do what the nurse normally advices: put a wet tissue on it and drink some water."
Coming to the conclusion that the idea seems reasonable, I leave the boy on the black sofa in the corner and prop an old, vintage pillow under his head.
The nurse's room is bleak, decorated with a blinding white colour and makeshift grey curtains. The smell is pungent, causing me to become light-headed an almost a little sick. It's quite big and even has a table where a vase sits upon it, containing the most withered flowers I've ever seen.
"Ugh, hurts so much," are the guys first words.
Shaking my head whilst deciding to focus on the task at hand, I quickly pick out a cup from one of the cupboards, rinse it and then proceed to pour a jug of water from the fridge.
I plop myself down on the floor next to the sofa and lift his head up, making him sip the cool water. After I'm finished, he hums in satisfaction and I take that as my thank you.
Slowly, he opens his eyes to reveal the most fascinating ocean-blue. His lips part, colour returning to his cheeks. Running a hand through his hair, his daze wanders around the room before it finally lands on me. The blaring alarm consumes the silence until the expression on his face goes from stoic to absolutely terrified.
"V-Valentina Blue-Rose?!" He asks, disbelieving that it's really me.
"Hey, please calm down," I whisper, even though there's no need.
I make an attempt to mollify him by taking his hand. Of course, this backfires and he slaps my hand away.
"Get away from me, you freak!"
"Told you it wasn't worth it," my mind reminds me.
"Listen..."
"No!" He interrupts.
"Stop this, unless you want to get caught," I warn.
Sighing, he bites his tongue and looks away from me.
"I thought I was getting beaten up," he mumbles. "How did I end up here? And why is the fire alarm going off?"
Rubbing my hand on the back of my neck, I tell him it's complicated.
"Please tell me," he protests.
"I'm not sure," I stammer.
"Come on, at least explain to me why you're here," he says.
So, I begin to give him an account on what happened. Stating what I saw, how I felt, what I heard and how we ended up in this room, with him on this sofa and me, trying to nurse his injuries.
When I'm done with the story, he then responds with something I've never heard before.
"Thank you, Valentina."
Staring at him quite perplexed, I politely ask him to reiterate what he said.
"Thank you, Valentina. You... you actually saved me. You... you did what most people are scared to do nowadays."
"Which is?"
"Stand up for what is right. Make a change. Protect someone who need protection," he retorts.
Blushing, I reply with:
"No problem."
Smiling, the boy in the hoodie chuckles and again, utters his appreciation. Feeling his face, he then grimaces when coming across a bruise on the side of his cheek.
"How bad are my injuries?" He groans his question.
"Well your face, aside from being thrashed to the ground, I'd say is relatively okay. However, it's your ribs I'm worried about," I report.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
"Well should I...I don't know... put a wet tissue on it?"
Stifling my laughter, I subtly agree with him, recommending that maybe after this crisis, he might wanna go to reception and inform them on what happened.
"I can't," he mutters.
"Why?" I pry.
"Kevin's gonna call me a snitch and I don't want a 6ix9ine reputation," he says.
"Really? Is that it?" I ask.
"No, it's also my fault. I do owe him money."
"How much?"
"Umm, numbers we haven't learnt at school yet," he babbles.
"What?!"
"I wrecked his car," he explains.
"Oh."
"Yeah and it was expensive. I have to pay for the paint job and everything," he sighs.
"I bet it's not too much," I say.
"I mean I could be exaggerating but details are only small things, right?"
Rolling my eyes, I also mentally face palm myself for believing his every word.
"Have you payed him back yet?"
"I'm only twenty bucks short," he states. "That's what I was trying to tell him before he got unreasonable."
"Wow."
"I know right!"
Rubbing my temples, I then bring out my small, brown purse, which I keep in my back pocket, drawing out twenty bucks.
"What's your name?"
"Reddman, but you can call me Red for short."
"Well listen, Red," I chuckle. "You can have this and forget that this ever happened."
"Are you for real?"
"Yes," I answer. "Red, pay back the money you owe Kevin and after getting some wet tissue, ask to be excused from class to actually get checked by a nurse.
"What happens if she asks how I hurt myself?"
"Just tell her you feel down the stairs?"
"Cool," Red agrees.
"Let me get your tissues," I wink.
"Thanks."
Moments after I completed my task, Red says his thanks for the money and help, telling me he will pay me back.
"Don't. Keep it."
Giving me a small salute, he leaves the room.
"See ya, Blue."
Red and Blue.
I like it.