Page 106 of This is Me

“Can we not talk about?” I asked quietly, keeping my eyes on Leroy’s hands.

I did not feel like talking about my feelings for him. Especially when my mind was still coming to terms with everything that had been said. The anger I had been feeling still lingered, though it was mixed with too many other emotions to count. Not to mention the pain. Oh, fucking God, I was in so much of it.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Leroy said quietly, and as he gripped his hand a little tighter, he flinched.

“Is your hand okay?” I asked, reaching over to touch it, but stopping myself and letting my hand fall on my knee.

“My knuckles are killing me,” Leroy mumbled before trying to move his wrist and sharply inhaling. “And I think I sprained my wrist.”

“Maybe you should go to the school,” I mumbled, not realising I hadn’t finished the sentence.

The conversation that I had been having with Leroy was a great distraction from the pain I was feeling and the unbelievable headache I had. Sadly, that conversation was over, and I was being thrust back into my aching reality. It was seemingly affecting my brain’s capability to function.

“I think you need to go home,” Leroy said, flinching again as he propped himself up and moved directly beside me against the toilet stall.

“I’m ‘kay,” I whispered, feeling myself lean my head toward Leroy, and doing my best to keep it upright.

“It looks really bad, Pete,” Leroy whispered back, stretching around me to grab some toilet paper from the stall.

“I’ve never been in the face before,” I muttered as Leroy gently began to wipe my face.

“I think you missed a word there, bud.” Leroy chuckled, and God, I missed this.

Not the excruciating agony—but him.

I looked up at Leroy as saw the concern on his face. His soft eyes laced with worry as he did his best to gently wipe the blood from my face, grimacing from the pain in his hand.

“Which one?” I asked, closing my eyes and leaning into Leroy’s hand, causing him to stop cleaning my face.

It wasn’t intentional, but my brain was in too much pain to do anything to stop me. I never knew getting punched in the face could make it so painful to think.

“Cooper!” Leroy suddenly called out, and I really wished he hadn’t.

How did he even know his name? Did I say it? Have they met? Are my school clothes going to have urine on them? I mean, this floor is filthy.

All of these thoughts ran through my head, consecutively. I didn’t have an answer for any of them.

“What’s wrong?” Cooper called as the bathroom door opened.

His voice echoed off the titles, and I clenched my eyes shut at my head pounded at the sound. Why did people have to be so loud?

“He needs to go see a nurse,” Cooper said, and I heard him move closer to me.

“This school doesn’t have a nurse,” Leroy pointed out, and I opened my eyes to see him shaking his head.

Slowly, he moved around me, grabbing my arm and wrapping it around his shoulder, gesturing Cooper to come and help with his other hand. That was still all bloody and sore, probably. I don’t know, I’m no doctor.

I’m losing my mind.

“I thought we had a whole room for sick kids?” Cooper moved forward and gently sat my other arm around his shoulders.

“Yeah, the sick-bay. But it’s more of a single chair in a room behind the office where they give you a Panadol.”

“Stop moving, please,” I muttered as the room began to spin, and I felt Leroy’s grip around me tighten.

“Pete, we haven’t started moving yet,” Leroy muttered, and I chuckled.

“Whoops, that’s just my brain breaking.”