NOTE: Got the quarantine blues?! Tune into this weeks hilariously entertaining audiobook recording by kaelking12!

https://youtu.be/jvmeVB3c_bE

CHAPTER 27

Elias

So, basically—I killed my lab partner. 

Okay, wait, maybe that's extreme, but I knocked her out cold which—pretty much feels like the same thing. There's less than five minutes left till the bell rings, and I'm stuck here staring at the clock slowly going out of my mind while Lacey's hurt.

After Kissinger sent me sprinting down the hall to get the school nurse, he refused to let me go see her until after the lesson. I wonder if he would've kept me here if he knew that I haven't paid attention to a single thing he's been saying for the last half hour. 

Instead, I've been counting the seconds until class ends and biting the skin off my nails like a lunatic because that's what this morning's turned me into. At this rate, it'll be a miracle if I make it to the end of the day.

I glance around the classroom and everybody else is taking notes or texting each other under their tables where Mr. K can't see. It's no secret who and what they're talking about, but the sight of it still makes me sick.

I didn't hurt Lacey on purpose. I never would. But, if Trish tried to turn me into that kind of monster just to start rumors, I wonder what these people will do?

The bell sounds off, and I'm out of my chair in seconds. I don't wait around for the whispers. I don't stick around for the stares. I set my sights on the classroom door and bolt for it before anyone can—

"Elias, can I see you for a second? I promise it won't take long."

Mr. K claps a cloud of yellow chalk dust off his hands and then motions for me to go over to his desk. I just wanna leave. I wanna break outta this room and bolt over to the health ward without anything or anyone else getting in my way, but I can't move. My legs lock in place, and, before I know it, I'm turning around to talk to Kissinger even though it's the last thing I wanna do.

"Sure, Mr. K. What's up?"

I force myself to walk over and do my best to come off casual, but given the look on Mr. Kissinger's face, he probably already knows I'm bluffing. Tanner's the only one out of the two of us who inherited Dad's pokerface. If he doesn't want you to read him, you won't. The only reason I knew he was worried about me this morning was because he wanted me to see that he was.

Most days, everything seems fine. Even after I screwed up his arm, he just kept on going on like he wasn't pissed or resentful or worried. Tanner's very good at being the laid back guy everybody knows him to be. Caleigh's the only person who's really got him figured out. She's the only one who knows his secrets, while I wear mine for everybody to see.

Right now, I might as well have angry, worried, and terrified written across my forehead in red ink. But I'm gonna change that. I have to. 'Cause everybody who's passing me on the way out of class is reading me like a headline when the way I'm feeling should stay hidden in the fine print.

"Relax, kiddo. You're not in trouble, I just wanted to thank you for what you did this morning."

Mr. K lifts up his E=MC-squared-coffee cup and chugs down the rest of the cold black sludge sitting on the bottom. If I wasn't completely confused by his statement, I'd be confused by the fact that he drinks slightly moist coffee grounds everyday and savors it like it's fine wine.

"W-What do you mean? I dropped a girl in the middle of your class and probably landed her in the hospital, so that's not really a reason to thank me."

He smiles at me, and I try to pretend that I don't see the collection of little black flecks stuck between his teeth.

"Easy there, Mr. King. Nobody went to the hospital. The nurse emailed me earlier saying that Lacey was fine—"

I'll believe it when I see it for myself.

"—but the reason I wanted to thank you is for trusting me."

I grip the back of my neck when the pressure from trying to figure Mr. K out feels like it's going to make my brain explode.

"I'm sorry, I'm not really following."

"When I told you to stay in class instead of leaving with your partner and the nurse, you could've blown a gasket. I saw that you were thinking about it. From the looks of that shiner and your clothes, this clearly hasn't been your day—"

"Tell me about it."

"—but you're still here. Letting stress and frustration get the best of you would've been the easy thing to do, but you handled the situation exceptionally. So, thanks for sticking it out. I'm not trying to take over your dad's role here, but if I were him, I could imagine being very proud of my son for doing what you did today."

It takes a couple seconds for Mr. K's words to settle in, but once they do, something inside my chest warms and expands to the point where I don't know what to do with the feeling. I was so pissed at him earlier for stopping me and for making me sit here and take notes when he knows how distracted I get when I'm worried about someone.

I've spared him the ugly details, but he knows that my dad's the reason I'm like this. That my home's the reason I worry a lot more than other people do. I've walked into class half-asleep enough times for him to know how often I stay up nights listening to my dad scream through the walls.

There's nothing worse than that feeling. Waiting. Not knowing what you'll find after a storm. Wondering if you'll walk into a room and find your own mother more broken than she was the day before.

It didn't feel any different with Lacey earlier. The school nurse came in, carried Lacey out of the room, and then just like that, the two of them were gone, and I was trapped in here waiting. My mind went all kinds of places in that half hour that I don't wanna go back to.

I thought Mr. K was keeping me from finding out how bad things were or that he was making me wait around till class ended, so he could punish me for hurting another student. But he was watching out for me, like he always does, and I can't even find the right words to thank him.

"I really appreciate that, Mr. K. And, for the record, it won't happen again. The whole—dropping thing, I mean."

Mr. Kissinger leans back in his creaky chair and lets out a breath of a laugh.

"Well, I should hope not. Using your lab partner to test out gravity wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I paired the two of you together, but I like that you guys keep me guessing."

I slip into a genuine smile for the first time since Lacey left the room.

"Yeah, well next time she falls, I'll make sure to hold onto her," I say.

Mr. K waggles his eyebrows at me which he has never done before.

"You're gonna think I'm a dinosaur for saying this, but for a second there, the two of you looked a lot like Ginger Rodgers and Fred Astaire."

"Who?"

"They were a famous dancing couple. Fred used to catch her like that when they'd dance, and it was very romantic. One of my students in 9-B takes pictures for yearbook. Shame, she's not in this class or else she might've been around to capture that moment. It would've been a highlight."

I couldn't be more thrilled that there weren't any cameras around to capture anything. Mr. K's "old" school, so all he thinks about are physical photographs not digital ones. Not rumors or Gawker articles. Must be nice. He can look at this situation and see the silver lining when all I see is a social media storm in the making.

"What's that yearbook girl's name? I'll find her after class, and tell her my schedule so she can be there the next time I drop someone," I say.

Mr. K waves me and all my A-level sarcasm toward the door.

"Alright, that's enough outta you. Go see your lab partner and get outta my hair—"

I loop my arm through the loose strap of my backpack and start heading out.

"—oh and by the way, her name's Cassie."

That name.

"What?"

"The school photographer—"

Why do I—

"—she's got dark hair, blue eyes, always carries around a camera. Watch out for her today, she might snap a photo and peg you as 'worst dressed' if you're not careful".

"Don't worry. I'll keep my distance. See you next class."

I walk out into the hall, disappear into the crowd, and let every other thought outside of Lacey disappear into the noise. There's a million eyes on my back as I pass people huddled around their lockers. But for the first time, I'm not interested in their attention 'cause I'm focused on something more important than the morning buzz. I'm focused on trying to make things right with Lacey and that starts with finding the right way to say 'I'm sorry.'

###

Nurse Shirley's office is way too clean. 

The floors are always sparkling, the jars of cotton balls and q-tips always full, and the bed's always made. If the San Diego police department tried to investigate this place for traces of human life, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't find any even though she has people in here 24/7.

Shirley's quick to spot me from behind her desk but is too caught up in a phone call to tell me to leave like she wants to. I throw her an overly friendly wave to try to dull the daggers in her eyes, but she doesn't ease up in the slightest.

At this point, I'm pretty sure this woman cannot and will not smile—at anyone, ever. She wears her faded red/brown hair in a bun so tight her beady blue eyes look like they're on a one-way pleasure cruise to the back of her head.

Not only that, but somewhere along the way, Shirley's eyebrows stopped being eyebrows and turned into angry little pencil marks. Anytime anyone comes into this office, it's extremely difficult not to stare, but I'm trying my best to pretend I don't see them.

I take my eyes off Shirley and scan the row of metal beds until I find Lacey's near the back of the room. She's lying totally still with a bag of ice bandaged to her head and two cool packs placed over her eyes. My legs go numb and before I drop to my knees, I B-line for the plastic chair sitting at the end of Lacey's bed.

I collapse into it a little harder than I should, and Shirley's phone call comes to a halt. I hear her get up from behind me, but I'm too freaked out right now to move.

What if the fall was worse than I thought? What if she comes out all swollen or bruised because of me? What if she doesn't wake up? What if she wakes up and can't remember anything and has to go back to preschool to start her life over? What if she—

"Mr. King, is there a reason you're not in class right now? The young lady's fine. She just needs to rest, and you being here will keep her from doing that."

Ms. Shirley comes waddling over to Lacey's patient table and makes a swatting motion in my direction like I'm a cloud of flies.

I distance myself from Lacey's bed and force myself to smile at Shirley even though she scares me.

"Ms. Shirley, as much as I'd love to be in history right now, I can't just leave her alone when she's unconscious like this. What if she wakes up and has anemia or whatever?"

Shirley rolls her eyes at me and goes back to puttering around the room organizing things that don't need to be organized.

"It's amnesia. And second, Ms. Sanders is not unconscious, I told her to lay down, keep her eyes closed, and relax after she woke up a half hour ago. She has a splitting headache, and your chatting isn't help—"

"Wait, what do you mean she woke up?"

"She woke up about thirty seconds after I brought her out of your classroom. A black out is not fatal, Mr. King. Your friend walked most of the way here on her own. She's fine—"

"How is this fine? She looks like she barely survived a bar fight! If she's in such good shape, why is her face iced up like that?!"

I stand up out of my chair a little too fast which visibly irritates Shirley, but I'm way past the point of caring.

"You need to calm down, young man."

"And you need to wake up. If she's in such good shape why do you have forty bags of ice on her head? Is she Hans Solo? Are you planning on freezing her in time and sending her to the future where they can figure out how to fix what I did to her?!"

Shirley grabs the white curtain hanging from the ceiling and draws it around Lacey's bed to keep me from seeing her. Once Lacey's out of sight, Shirley goes back to straightening out the next bed over like I'm not even in the room.

"If you don't want me to send you to the office for disrupting my work and disturbing my patients, I suggest that you leave."

I take a second to breathe to keep the hurricane swirling around in my chest from spiraling out of control.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I can't leave until you explain this situation in a way I can understand. If Lacey's con-c--"

"Conscious."

I was totally gonna say that.

"Yeah—if she's conscious, then why isn't she moving?"

"If you were dropped on a metal stool, would you want to be moving around?"

"No."

"Good, then you have your answer. Goodbye, Mr. King."

Shirley clicks her tongue at me and shakes her head like I just pissed on her floor. She can click all she wants, I'm not going anywhere until I know Lacey's okay.

"Look, can I at least stay with her for a few more minutes? I promise I won't bother you again," I say.

Shirley nods and then rushes off to the front of the room to answer the phone.

I pull back the curtain and approach the edge of Lacey's bed as quietly as possible. Even though I know Shirley's probably right about everything, it doesn't make seeing her hurt like this any easier. 

I should apologize. I have to. But I want to do it right. Even if I have to spend the rest of the semester convincing her that I mean it, I want her to know that I'm not above apologizing. That I'm not anything like my father.

I glance down at the edge of Lacey's hospital blanket and spot her feet peeking just out of the edge. Ten little toes hidden under two little pink socks that are too small and cute to ignore.

Ever since we were little, my mom never let me or Tanner go to bed without completely burying us under the blankets. She didn't believe in letting anyone go to bed cold—least of all with cold feet. I've got fifteen years of handmade thick socks to prove it.

I didn't understand Mama for being so crazy about the whole cold thing back then, but I do now. I reach down, take the edge of Lacey's blanket between my fingers, and pull it over her feet.

"Que Dios te toque con Su mano sanadora." (May God touch you with his healing hand).

I say the same words my mom's always said to comfort me and my brother over the years, but instead of getting silence in return, Lacey finally speaks. And every last one of her words floor me.

"Muchas gracias, Elias. Aprecio que hayas venido a verme. No te preocupes por mí. Estaré bien." (Thank you, Elias. I appreciate you coming to see me. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine).

My language dances off her lips, floats into the air, and wraps itself around me till I get lost in the familiar warmth of the sound. Nobody outside my home has spoken Spanish to me since elementary school. 

By the time sixth grade rolled around, me and the other native speaking kids buried our mother tongue in exchange for better grades, better social lives, and better chances at not being stereotyped and bullied.

Hiding our words didn't always work. We wear our culture on our skin, and there are always people like Brad who lived to make us ashamed of that. But Lacey doesn't speak like it's a secret. At least not with me. And that means everything, even though I'm trying to act like it's nothing. For the first time since setting foot in this school, I feel a little more at home.

It takes me a minute to get a hold of the slap-happy smile spreading across my face, but once I do, I finally find it in myself to look at her.

We make eye contact across the space of her bed, and all my muscles freeze. Lacey's doing her best to sit up straight and confident, but her eyes are so tired and helpless looking that I cave a little at the sight of her.

Sometime between passing out in the classroom and getting here, the messy ponytail she was wearing disappeared completely. Her hair's everywhere. Brushed away from her eyes, spilling off her shoulders, and caught in the corner of her pouty lips. 

I didn't think it was possible to be this distracted by a girl with an icepack bandaged to her head, but seeing is believing. And I'm enjoying the view.

"I'm sorry, did you understand me? My Spanish is a little rusty—" she says.

"No, it was beautiful—"

Get it together, Elias.

"—I mean—it was really good. Lo entiendo. Hablas español muy bien. Where'd you learn?"

"My parents. They thought it was important not to—"

"Forget where you came from," Lacey and I finish the sentence the same way at the same time, and my chest nearly implodes on itself. She laughs to herself a little which finally starts to convince me this day might not turn out as badly as I thought.

"Looks like we make a pretty good lab team after all," Lacey says. I shove my hands deep into my pockets and play off the compliment like it's no big deal.

"Totally. I'm really sorry by the way. I just kinda freaked out in the classroom earlier, and—wait, is your ice pack supposed to be leaking like that?"

I point to Lacey's shoulder hoping that she'll spot the slow trickle of melted ice making its way down her hair towards her t-shirt.

"No, definitely not, but I can ask Shirley to—"

"I got it."

I fly over to Lacey's bedside about as fast as I can blink. She shudders a little which makes me instantly regret spazzing out on her in the first place, but she's quick to hide any of her nervousness behind a smile.

"Elias, it's really okay. A little water isn't a problem for me."

"It's cold. Your clothes could get wet or you could get sick or whatever. I promise I'll be quick, just let me help you with this, okay?"

She nods, and I slowly reach for the white gauze bandage holding the ice pack in place. I try my best to keep my eyes focused on anything else but her face, but the closer I have to lean in to untangle the bandages, the harder it gets.

I unwind the gauze three times and then make the mistake of looking down to see just how close Lacey is. She doesn't look up at me. Her eyes are lightly closed and from where I'm standing, I can feel the unsteadiness of her breaths brushing against my neck. 

I shouldn't be staring, but I can't help it. My gaze wanders over the rounded curve of her nose all the way down to her lips and linger there long enough for me to start thinking all kinds of stupid thoughts.

Thoughts that make me curious about what it'd be like to—

"Wow. And here I was thinking you were having a really bad day. I'm impressed, Eli. I'm all for exploring new horizons, but trying to put the moves on a concussed girl in the middle of a nurse's office is definitely a first!"

I've been around a lot girls and gotten caught in a fair share of awkward situations, but this might be the worst thing that's ever happened to me. Before I even finish taking the gauze off Lacey, I pull away from her as fast as humanly possible only to find myself face to face with the absolute last person I wanna see.

"Tanner, I promise—this is not what you think."

Tanner cocks an eyebrow and scoffs at me the exact same way he did when he walked in on me right before homecoming.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

"I'm sure it's not. The hallways don't lie, Elias. I came running over here when I heard you put a girl in the sick ward after you—wait—"

Tanner's eyes grow three sizes bigger and dart back forth between Lacey and me enough times to count as a mini-marathon. My mom told me stories about how God blinded people in the Bible. I'm seriously thinking about dropping to my knees and praying for a favor right now.

"—are you—Lacey? As in, the Lacey my brother's been totally—"

"Yes! She is. This is Lacey, my lab partner. The one Mr. K emailed me about last night. Remember the email, bro?"

Tanner smirks to himself, totally ignores my lie, and saunters over to Lacey and shakes her hand like he's just met the president.

"Sorry to intrude, but it is truly an honor to meet you. I'm Tanner, Elias's big brother, and I wanted to be the first to officially welcome you to the King family."

Lacey smiles and blushes at him while I'm contemplating throwing a chair across the room.

"Nice to meet you, Tanner. But I'm not really sure what you mean."

"Don't worry, you'll figure it out soon enough. Isn't that right, Eli?"

###

Thank you guys so much for reading! Kristen and I had a blast putting this chapter together for you and we really hope you enjoyed the read & listen! Next update should be next weekend unless otherwise stated!

#RealTalkQuestionoftheWeek

1. Do you think Tanner will turn out to be a one of a kind match maker or a one of a kind nuisance when it comes to Elias and Lacey?!

2. Have you ever had a friend/sibling/parent embarrass you in front of a crush/significant other?