On a good day, I can play Felix's wacky version of miniature capture the flag relatively well. The setup is similar to the real game with the same objective, to climb one of the two ropes attached to the gym ceiling and capture the enemy team's flag. Throw in paintball archers, kiddie pools, and a clown and you'll get a pretty good idea about what kind of person my instructor was. He was bone of contention at every PTA meeting our school had ever held, but so far no one could stop him.

I love it but for the first time in a while I'm with the team running through the barrage of bruising paint balls and creepy clowns rather than the archers taking aim at them.

Felix must have an interesting sense of humour if he thinks our all white outfits will emerge from this unscathed.

Some men, I think, just want to watch the world burn.

Group A is a class of juniors and seniors he's spread them out across our two teams. Making it roughly thirty people on each team, divided among the stations. As luck and what I believe is a rigged coin toss would have it, I end up on the same team as Darnell while Anika is on the other side of the room with our opponents.

Felix stands at the end of the gym by the dangling ropes holding a horn and calls out to us:

"You know the rules. You get hit, you die. You slip," He gestures to the kiddie pool, "you die. You fall..."

B group repeats the last line in unison, I with even more emphasis than usual. "You die!"

"Okay," Felix says with a finger twirl. "Five minutes to strategize then we go."

The elation of playing hits me despite my anxiety and I bounce from my left foot to my right. Our group captain, Julie divides us sending people to man the paintball guns and a few to distract the clown and protect our flag. Because Julie knows I used to run track I'm put with the runners and that includes Darnell.

Darnell, Julie and I will have to run across the littered gym and head back with the flag. He's taller than both of us and Julie assigns him to climbing.  I barely participate, biting my nails and securing my ponytail. I wonder if he feels as awkward about this as I did. Or maybe he didn't care. Yesterday I thought I didn't care but—

"—rush behind the tire, okay."

For the second time in nearly two years, Darnell has spoken to me and I didn't catch half of it. Before I can ask, Felix's horn goes off a minute early and we are running, across the shiny floor and to the pool of dyed water. This is what I love about mini capture the flag. The insanity. On my left I am dodging multi-coloured paintball-fire and up ahead of me is the clown throwing water balloons, with our instructor gesticulating and shouting.

The group A class has played capture the flag like this.

Darnell and Julie head to a tire and I realize what I missed in the strategy. The strategy.

For a moment, I am lost in throng of my classmates all shoving forward and I glance at our flag. I spot Anika tossing balloons at the clown and snickering. Which may or may not be against the rules. At this point it no longer matters. My train of thought is interrupted as Julie who must have moved away from her hiding spot behind me, drags me forward.

"Keep it moving Hazel,"

Her act of kindness blows up quite spectacularly in her face as an archer guts her in the back, purple and green paint spatter onto both her shoes and mine. Our eyes meet for a minute and then we both laugh. The unspoken rule of mini capture the flag is that there are no hard feelings. It is always just a game.

From where he is standing, Felix screams "out".

"At least it didn't get into your hair," I say as if chaos does not reign all around us.

She shakes her head, "Just get behind the tire," and walks away to join the archers.

I jog towards Darnell who is already leaving the shelter of the tire. Its ten minutes in and the purpose of the game is lost. The clown is in a dance off with one of the juniors and paintball is being flung everywhere. He is the only one whose sole focus is to capture the flag.

I am still giggling as I run through the colourful hell. We might as well win.

Darnell sweeps through the kiddie pool and moves past the growing dance circle. The hype for that clown is insane. I follow him until we both reach the rope. On our sides the archers are engaged in a fierce battle with each other.

We stare at the coarse material for a moment. If anything its tense.

"Do you want to..." I say but my voice trails off.

He is quiet, considering, before he talks again, "You climb up, I'll lift."

Now, how could I say no to that. In hindsight I really, really should have said no.

"Okay, okay."

He makes a cup shape with his hands and places it onto his knee. Darnell looks back up at me and I can tell the awkwardness in this situation is very mutual. I expect that this is not how either of us wanted our Monday to go.

I don't know whether or not to take off my shoes so I don't think about it too much and soon my hand is on his shoulder and my foot in his hands. I have very mixed feelings about this.

He lifts and only lets go when I have clambered and have made significant headway towards the flag.

I use a methodical approach, one I dub the pull and scoot. After pulling and scooting far enough it is within my reach I make my fatal mistake. I look down.  The dizzying heights have reached are disconcerting enough but Darnell. J. Washington tying his laces beneath me is too much.

My T-shirt feels too tight and the rope is too itchy. My upper body strength has never been something to write home about and all this comes home to roost as my hands, without my explicit consent as though they are suddenly operating on their own give up and let go of the rope.

This would have been a tragic, yet respectable way to die. Except I don't. I find myself landing on a boy.

So yes, my ungraceful descent does in fact knock Darnell unconscious and leaving me wide-awake and coherent enough to deal with the consequences.

*****

In my entire high school career I can only recall one time where I needed to visit the school nurse. And that was purely for registration reasons. Now here I am in Nurse Gregory's office with an ice pack on the blossoming bruise on my forehead. My second self-inflicted injury withing the past twenty-four hours.

Darnell didn't quite make for a soft landing.

To recap not only have I embarrassed myself in front of my group but the other upperclassmen as well. I have a strong feeling that my already shaky social standing has taken another tumble. That's not even my biggest problem, This is the second member of our basketball team that I've caused significant harm to. And we're supposed to play the freaking Ravens this week.

He's in the examination room with a possible concussion and all the other side effects of having a 110-pound girl land on you at terminal velocity. Which reminds me as I turn to the wall clock on my left, that there's a physics class I'm missing right about now.

I lean into my bench. Say what you want to but seating in this office is the unbelievably soft. There is a chart in front of me of with letters arranged randomly in varying sizes. I can see all the way to the top and back down. It's good that glasses aren't in my future anytime soon plus I doubt our healthcare would even cover it.

With my hand I crunch the icepack against my forehead rolling it back and forth to make the most of the chill.

Nurse Gregory walks back into the room with a folder and almost steps past me. Almost.

"Hazel..." she says narrowing her eyes and snapping the folder closed. "Didn't I discharge you?"

"Uhhh." I know she did but I'm not going to give up that easily. She raises an eyebrow.

"Well, you did but I could have a concussion too." I say at last as I swing my legs over the edge of the bench, still wearing my trainers, which after today will need dry cleaning.

"I examined you quite thoroughly and you showed no signs of a concussion." 

"Yes, but then I started feeling dizzy and—" I start to speak much faster, as if that helps my case.

"Are you questioning my diagnosis? If you are then I'd like to see the decades of medical experience that offers you the luxury to do so."

This woman. She's got me there and with her impatient tapping on the floor, she knows it too. She's checked everything she's medically required to check. I even got her to look at my hand, which is bruising but not fatal.

"I'd like a second opinion." I say pulling my best sheep face.

Nurse Gregory laughs a wide toothy laugh, "Go to class Hazel."

"And Darnell?" I ask even though I'm sure I'm not supposed to.

"Darnell will be just fine. We get this type of thing from Mr. Markham's class all the time," she says the last part a bit ruefully. "You won't get into any trouble."

Markham. Hearing Felix's last name throws me off but not for long.

"Fine. Then will you tell him," I stop and think over my next words, "Will you tell him I'm sorry, for everything."

She nods and I leave.

I don't go to physics. In my paint-covered state I'd hardly be let in and I'm already late so I head to the locker rooms for a much needed clean up.