THE EIGHTH MISFORTUNE: AFTERMATH

After the treatment, Isabela, the school nurse, gave Janed a gentle but firm instruction to rest on one of the beds in the medical room before he left for his classes. The room was modest but well-equipped, with a row of neatly arranged beds, shelves lined with medical supplies, and posters on the walls illustrating human anatomy and first aid procedures. The soft hum of the air conditioner provided a calming background noise as Isabela prepared to leave.

Rosch was told he needed to return to class. He nodded in agreement, understanding the importance of not missing his lessons. He turned to Janed with a reassuring smile. “I’ll come back after this class, okay? Just rest. Don’t do anything funny,” Rosch said, his voice filled with a blend of concern and camaraderie.

Janed, already reclining on the bed with his legs stretched out and his arms resting at his sides, chuckled softly. “Oh, come on. You treat me like I create loads of trouble.”

“Nah, dude. You have this habit of wanting to be the nice guy all the time and making sure everything is perfect. Don’t do that. Just focus on resting,” Rosch replied, shaking his head with a wry smile.

“Yeah, yeah. You make me sound like I’m an attention seeker,” Janed retorted with a smirk.

“You’re not, but you’re definitely too nice,” Rosch said, his tone light but sincere.

At that moment, Isabela, engrossed in her paperwork, interrupted. “Back to class, Mister Cruz,” she said with a tone of finality. Her voice was calm but authoritative, and she didn’t lift her gaze from her desk, her focus entirely on the task at hand.

Rosch stood up, casting one last glance at Janed before heading towards the door. “Yes, Miss,” he replied, his tone respectful as he exited the medical room.

Rosch walked briskly through the school corridors, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. He reached his classroom and knocked on the door. The voice of his history teacher, Señora Rodriguez, came from inside, clear and commanding. “Come in,” she called out.

As Rosch entered, he found Señora Rodriguez standing at the front of the class. She was a striking figure, known for her strictness and grace. Her elegant black heels clicked against the floor as she moved, and her white shirt was adorned with a cravat that added a touch of sophistication to her attire. Her pencil skirt, which reached below her knees, accentuated her poised demeanor. Her sharp gaze, framed by her glasses, settled on Rosch as he walked in.

“Mister Cruz. Why are you late to my class?” Señora Rodriguez demanded, her voice cutting through the air with an air of authority.

“I was in the medical room—” Rosch began, trying to explain.

“You look fine to me,” she interjected, placing her hand on the podium and leaning slightly, her right leg crossing behind her left in a pose that conveyed both authority and elegance.

Rosch swallowed nervously. “It wasn’t for me. It was for one of my classmates—”

“That’s no excuse for being late to my class,” she said sharply.

“I’m sorry, Miss—” Rosch started to apologize, but she cut him off.

“When did Mexico earn its independence?” she asked, her tone brooking no argument.

“September 27—” Rosch began.

“Year only, Mister Cruz,” she snapped.

“1821,” Rosch answered quickly, feeling the pressure of her scrutiny.

“Who initiated the War of Independence?”

“Miguel Hidalgo,” Rosch replied.

“Very well. You may sit. Do not be late to my class next time,” Señora Rodriguez said, her voice softening slightly but still maintaining its firmness.

Rosch sighed with relief and quickly made his way to his seat. As he sat down, Jui, who was seated behind him, leaned forward to whisper, “We told her you went with Janed because he was hurt, but you know how she is. She doesn’t trust anyone’s word, definitely not ours,” Jui chuckled softly.

Rosch scoffed quietly, hidden from the teacher’s view, and then turned back to face the front. The class continued with the usual rigors, and time seemed to drag on for Stella, who struggled to keep her eyes open. Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. Señora Rodriguez gathered her papers and left the room, her heels clicking sharply as she walked out.

Rosch stood up and stretched. “I’m going to get Janed,” he said, glancing at Jui, who nodded in understanding.

“Shall we come too?” Stella asked, her eyes bright with concern.

“At least one of you needs to stay,” Rosch said, casting a glance at the remaining friends.

“I’ll stay,” Jui volunteered, propping her chin up on her hands and resting her elbows on her desk. “It’s Miss Montoya’s class anyway. She’s really sweet and won’t question you,” Jui said with a playful grin.

Rosch nodded and left with Stella and Lara towards the nurse’s office. The hallway was bustling with students, their chatter and laughter creating a lively atmosphere. As they made their way, a football, kicked recklessly from the field, soared through the air and crashed through a window just a few steps ahead of them. The loud shattering of glass startled them, and they froze in place, narrowly avoiding the shards that rained down. The other students had stopped running around walked away from the scene.

Rosch immediately approached the broken window, his heart racing. He peered outside and saw a group of junior students standing below, their faces a mixture of guilt and fear. The first floor provided a clear view of their expressions as they looked up anxiously.

“Hey! Don’t play like that! Someone could have gotten seriously hurt!” Rosch shouted, his voice filled with frustration and concern. The juniors mumbled apologies, their voices trembling.

The gym teacher, having heard the commotion, appeared at the scene. He scolded the juniors for their carelessness and then looked up at Rosch. “Listen, son,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind, “stay away from the shards and inform the other students. We’ll clean it up as soon as we can.”

“Okay, sir,” Rosch replied, his voice polite. He turned back to Stella and Lara, who were watching him with concern. As he turned, he accidentally brushed his finger against a shard of glass still lodged in the window frame. He winced in pain as a cut appeared between his thumb and index finger.

“Hey, are you okay?” Stella and Lara asked in unison, rushing to his side with worried expressions.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just a small cut,” Rosch said, trying to downplay the injury.

“But that needs to be treated. You can’t leave it like that,” Lara insisted, her concern evident as she examined the blood on his hand.

Rosch nodded, understanding the urgency. They quickened their pace to the nurse’s office, their footsteps echoing in the corridor. Upon reaching the office, they found Isabela, as if waiting for them.

Lara immediately explained the situation to Isabela. “Rosch got cut by some glass shards.” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Isabela with a calm demeanor and a reassuring presence, immediately set to work. She carefully cleaned the cut with antiseptic wipes, her touch gentle yet precise. She then applied a fresh bandage, her movements practiced and efficient. “It’s a minor cut, but it’s important to keep it clean,” she said, her voice soothing.

As Isabela finished, Janed sat up from his bed, still moving with some difficulty but managing to get off the bed. “Rosch, how did that happen?” he asked, his concern evident.

“Some juniors broke the window. I went to check it out and ended up grazing against the shards,” Rosch explained.

“You need to be more careful,” Janed said, his tone both gentle and serious.

“Well, you should be careful too,” Rosch replied, glancing at Janed’s sprained ankle. Janed shrugged with a rueful smile. “Guess the day’s just not going well, haha.”

Isabela smiled at their exchange, her expression warm as she waved her ballpoint pen at them. “Off to your classes you go,” she said, her voice filled with encouragement.

The group thanked Isabela and left the medical room together. They walked down the hallway, their spirits lifted by the support they had received. The day had certainly been challenging, but they faced it with resilience and camaraderie.