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‘Knee or ankle or both?’ Miss Hanlon asks.
‘I… I… I dunno. All of it.’
The hall gets noisier. Someone’s bouncing the basketball. I can feel the vibration in the floor under me. I wish they’d stop.
‘Okay, Kayla,’ Miss Hanlon says. ‘Tell me to stop if this hurts. I’m going to take off your shoe and sock to see if your ankle is swollen.’
I nod again. ‘Ouch, ouch, ouch,’ I say as Miss Hanlon unties my laces and slips off my runner.
There’s some laughing and pointing and I remember the huge hole in my sock that I noticed this morning. I wasn’t bothered about changing it because I never thought my whole class would be staring at my foot before we even had eleven o’clock break.
‘Ew, what’s that smell? It’s like cheese,’ one of the idiots in my class says. ‘Ugh. It’s gross. I think I’m going to be sick.’
Of course, laughter erupts as if the stupid comment is even funny. And I wish I could be anywhere else. Or at least be wearing any other pair of socks that I own. Like all the millions of pairs without stupid holes.Could today possibly get any worse?
The sharp, high-pitched screech of Miss Hanlon’s whistle brings all the messing and laughing to a sudden stop.
‘Right. That’s enough,’ Miss Hanlon says lowering her whistle from her lips. ‘Everyone into the changing room and get changed for your next class. And with no messing. I’m in no mood, guys. No mood at all.’ She points a warning finger and wags it. ‘Go. Go on. Now.’
Everyone shuffles out the doors of the hall and into the corridor, the noise and mumbling and, no doubt, slagging me off about my holey socks fades with them.
‘You too, Aiden,’ Miss Hanlon says. ‘Go on now. You’ll be late for your next class.’
‘But Kayla,’ Aiden says, looking at me with pitiful eyes that I know are more about his desperation to get out of our next class than sympathy for me.
I know where he’s coming from. It’s almost worth mangling my leg to miss Irish verbs and poems.
‘Kayla will be just fine with me,’ Miss Hanlon smiles. ‘Won’t you, Kayla?’
I pull a face. Irish class is bad. But Irish class without your best friend to keep you sane for an hour is torture.
‘Miss please, can Aiden stay?’ I ask.
‘Ha, nice try,’ Miss Hanlon says. ‘But this is not an excuse to get out of class and you two know better, don’t you?’
‘Yeah. Okay,’ Aiden sighs. ‘It was worth a try though, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes. I s’pose it was,’ Miss Hanlon says. ‘Now, c’mon. Hurry. You’re already running late and I don’t want you getting into trouble with your next teacher.’
Aiden stands up and drags his feet so slowly towards the door anyone would think he’s the one with a sore leg.
‘I’ll be sure to get the homework for you, Kayla,’ Aiden teases, turning back as he reaches the hall doors. ‘Check your Snapchat later.’
‘Oh great! Thanks,’ I groan.
Aiden pokes his tongue out at me while pulling a funny face, then hurries off to class.
‘Will he really text you the homework later?’ Miss Hanlon asks.
‘Nah,’ I smile. ‘He’s just having a laugh.’
‘It’s good to have a friend like that,’ Miss Hanlon says in a soft almost-whisper voice.
I wait for her to ask me if we’re going out – most of the other teachers think we are. It’s fair enough, we spend lots of time together, but I’ve known Aiden since playschool. It would be super weird.
‘You’d talk to Aiden if you had a problem, wouldn’t you?’ Miss Hanlon says.
‘Yeah.’ I scrunch my nose, so confused about where this conversation is going and really wishing we weren’t having it while I sit on the ground with one runner on, one off and a giant hole in my sock.
