On the floor, with a pose similar to various depictions of mermaids, was Shakira. Standing beside her was Laras, her tablemate. The former showed a pained expression, meaning that she had fallen.
I and Indah hurriedly went over to their position, and Laras' speech to Shakira was caught in my ears. "Whoa, Shakira! That was an accident! Are you Okay!?"
What she just said, along with how her face formed, showed a sign of concern. However, I believed that for a quick moment, Laras showed an amused expression.
"Hey! You pushed her down, didn't you?" Indah seemingly also noticed the hidden emotion and went straight to accuse her.
Not accepting the treatment she received, Laras shot a glare at Indah. "Huuuh? What the heck are you saying?"
"Stop it, you two." I said as I deliberately walked in between them and crouched at Shakira. "Are you hurt anywhere?" I said to her while giving her a gesture to help her stand.
"Uh, thank- ouch..." Shakira, assisted by me, slowly got up. Her right leg was hanging a bit higher from the ground, indicating that there was something wrong around that area.
"Indah, help me take her to the infirmary." I said. Shakira's stature made it difficult for me to walk-assist her alone.
Indah knew of the urgency and put Shakira's other arm on her shoulder.
"Excuse me, B*tch! Why are you accusing-"
"Laras, stop. Not now." I stopped her rage midway in hope that the dispute wouldn't escalate further.
Laras switched her glaring target from Indah to me, but I ignored her and kept assisting Shakira to walk to the Infirmary with Indah. And then, a pain suddenly sparked in my shin and transmitted to my brain; a result caused by Laras kick. After she had injured me, she went in the opposite direction from us.
"What was that for!?" Indah shouted a reaction instead of me, who was silently holding the pain.
"It's okay, let's move on." I said in an attempt to shift her focus.
We carefully took small steps so that Shakira didn't have to feel uncomfortable. "Sorry for troubling you guys." Her eyes were ready to burst into tears as she said that.
The door of the infirmary was closed, and when I opened it, two students were sitting on cushioned chairs. I assumed them as on-duty students from the school's Red Cross Youth.
One of them stood up and asked us, "What happened?"
"Ah... I slipped because of the rain." Shakira said, and then we took her to the single bed inside the infirmary.
The two RCY students carefully examined her leg condition. I and Indah were looking at them in the distance, and I noticed a small bruise on her ankle.
"How awful..." Indah commented beside me and quickly turned her body towards the door. I was worried she was going to get into trouble, so I put my hand on her arm to stop her.
Indah stared at my hand. Much like how a difficult question keeps us occupied, she, too, was annoyed by my obstruction. "What are you doing?"
"That's my line. What are you going to do?"
A short circuit has generated a spark of electricity in between our stares. We stood still for a few seconds in a staring contest. Convinced that it was impossible to make me surrender through eye contact, she then tried to struggle her way out of my restraint.
"Indah." An alto voice was heard coming from the patient lying on the infirmary bed. She went on trying to convince Indah that what happened was her own shortcoming. "It's true. The floor was slippery and I lost my balance."
"Really? You're not bullied or anything?" Indah asked to double-check Shakira's statement.
"N-no, no. Not at all! Why would you think so?"
I looked at Indah, and she looked at me. Our assumptions were on the same page; however, if the person concerned said otherwise, who are we to force what we thought was the right thing to do?
Indah sighed and looked at Shakira once again with a smile. "Alright, I believe you. But if anything happens, just tell me, okay? I'll try my best to help you."
"Count me in." I said, butting in.
Shakira rubbed her head, bewildered. "Thanks, you two."
While we were too immersed in our talk, the RCY student was carefully applying bandages on Shakira's right ankle, and before long, his first aid was complete. "It was just a light sprain, but don't move it too much."
It was a piece of good news, and the three of us let out a sigh of relief. I took a look outside and noticed that the rain had stopped. Still concerned about Shakira, I asked, "How are you going to return home now?"
"I asked my papa to pick me up. My home isn't that far, so he will show up in a few minutes."
"I see. That's good, then."
The three of us shut our mouths tight, not letting out another sentence. I crossed my arms to stay comfortable, then looked at Indah's face and found a gloomy and tired expression. Well, it was obvious.
Shakira and Indah seemed busy talking with their inner thoughts. I, too, was pondering. Bullying was such a delicate topic for us kids; it was something that no one wanted to experience or see. Now that I and Indah had discovered it, we felt obliged to make things right. However, at the same time, kids like us hadn't the slightest idea what to do.
And that fact, perhaps, could be used as an excuse to seek help from adults. But that in itself presented another problem. Some adults might dismiss the repeated act of violence as mere friendly disputes. This matter needs a certain level of confidentiality, so we had to be careful with whom we should discuss this problem.
The silence we went through for a few moments was disrupted when a 'honk' was heard from outside.
"Maybe that's your father. I'll check it out." Indah said as she got out of the infirmary.
Shakira, me, and the two RCY members stayed inside the infirmary and waited for news from Indah. Now that I think about it, those two students didn't bother our silence, did they? How sensible of them.
"Excuse me." A bass voice entered the infirmary, taking away our attention. Outside was a skinny old man with many wrinkles on his face. The brown leather jacket he wore was oversized, but it helped him to resist the cold temperature caused by the rain. Right beside him was Indah.
"What in the world happened to you?" The old man said, with a glimmer of compassion shown in his eyes.
"I slipped, pa. Hehe." Shakira said using a funny voice I never heard from her.
I and Indah exchanged glances. We knew that wasn't the case, and my feelings told me to tell Shakira's dad the truth. But I held it in, and instead, helped Shakira to walk out of the infirmary with Indah.
"I can't thank you both enough for helping me." Shakira said as we helped her get on her father's motorcycle.
"It's no big deal. I hope you recover soon." Indah said.
The motorcycle, with a design that matched the old age of its driver, let out similarly old and repeated coughs from its muffler. I and Indah waved at Shakira, and in an instant, she could no longer be seen.
Now that our sole reason to stay longer at school had gone, we decided to return home. We bowed to the RCY students to thank them and walked out of the school.
Throughout our way towards the busway station, the air between us was as still as the puddles on the road.
~~~~
IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT
Dear readers, Hello!
I'm Homeless Traveler, a newcomer in creative writing!
It has been 1 month since the first chapter. writing this felt like an eternity, but it's actually only a mere one month, huh?
So, how do you guys find my story? Is it interesting enough, or is it boring? Whichever it is, I'm grateful that you have read this novel thus far.
On this occasion, I want to tell you guys something important. As you guys already know, I usually upload twice a week on Thursday and Sunday. due to various reasons, I decided to change it to once a week, until I got a contract from webnovel.
It sounds like a counter-productive move, but well... anyway, you get the gist of it.
Thank you so much for taking your time to read this.
Sincerely,
Homeless Traveler.