I had spent the afternoon in the nurse's office. After being forced to the floor a few minutes after lunch, I knew I had to get my knee looked at. Of course I hobbled all the way, but it was worth it. The nurse checked over my knee, sometimes pushing down on it, causing me to screech in pain. She asked me if I wanted to leave school early and rest at home, but after telling her I received a detention from Mr Way, she stayed silent. I had thought about asking her about what she knew about him, but I too, kept quiet.
My knee was already bruised, and very sensitive. I didn't realize I had hit it as hard as I thought. It would take a while for me to walk on this foot properly. The nurse had wrapped my knee in plenty of gauze to support it, and to comfort it. I must admit that it did help, but I had nothing to hide it with. My knee high socks weren't exactly knee high. I wasn't wearing pants, just a long shirt which pulled off as a dress. Mr Way was going to see it, and I was sure whatever detention he had planned for me, would change instantaneously.
Finally, the bell rang, signalling the end of the day. I sighed, knowing that I would have to leave the comforting, and inviting room of the nurse's office, and awkwardly walk to the fearful Art room.
When the bell had stopped ringing, the nurse looked at me apologetically and told me that I could now leave. I didn't feel any hate towards her for telling me to go. It wasn't her fault, it was mine, and mine alone.
I climbed down from the hospital like bed and hopped out of the room, holding onto chairs, tables and doors to help me. It was uncomfortable, as I knew it would be, it just took some getting used to.
The nurse's office was exactly a floor beneath my Art room, so you can imagine the annoyance and anger that bubbled up inside me, knowing I would now have to climb a set of stairs. There was no elevator, or any other way for an injured or disabled person to get around the school.
As I climbed the stairs, I knew Mr Way would keep me longer for getting to him late. Maybe another detention to follow this one. Right now, I didn't care. I just wanted this one done.
As I approached his room, I heard a voice talking. A female voice. I didn't recognize it, so I didn't know who it was. I assumed she was talking to Mr Way about something. Remembering what Delilah was talking about at lunch, she may be talking to him about a problem, and I wanted to hear it.
I stood by the entrance to the room, and I saw Mr Way and a young, blonde haired girl talking to him. To be honest, I had never seen anybody looking as bored as what Mr Way did right now. I listened, and watched.
"...He seemed really sweet and caring, and I really liked him. I thought he liked me too." Her voice was hesitant, as if she wasn't quite sure if she should really be telling him anything.
"Go on." Mr Way encouraged. It shocked me to hear that his voice was calm. It sounded like he wanted to help.
The girl sighed, "I knew I didn't really know much about him...but there was such a strong connection between us, I couldn't ignore it for much longer...we...slept together." Her voice was breaking, trying to keep back tears. Mr Way did nothing to comfort her. I wasn't surprised.
"The next morning...he told me he didn't want anything to do with me...and that he had a girlfriend back in Seattle. He said I was nothing but a whore. He just got dressed and left, leaving me completely heartbroken... and now...I think I might be pregnant." Tears escaped her eyes, and her mascara ran down her face.
Mr Way waited until she had stopped crying and spoke gently to her, "Okay, you need a break. Don't get so depressed about the whole thing. Forget about him. Get your mom to let you and a few friends go away for the weekend, take your mind off things. If you haven't told your mom about this, then you need too. She'll understand and support you. Now, I want you to go home, take a long bath, and talk to your mom. It'll be fine." He sounded like he was making a promise. That things will be fine. I hoped, for the sake of the girl, that it will be. I hoped he wasn't saying things that she wanted to hear.
But of course, the real Mr Way did have to throw in some sort of his horrible, harsh words in his speech somewhere. And just as the girl was walking away with a small smile on her face, he said them, "Oh and Suzanne? The next time you meet a boy you like, don't be a stupid careless teenage girl, and get to know the guy before you spread your legs for him." His words were so cold, and harsh, as always, yet I still couldn't get over how harsh he could be.
With a small 'yes sir', the girl named Suzanne almost ran from the room, in fear of more tears escaping her. She ran past me, just brushing my shoulder, sending a pain down my arm.
I would have to remember to talk to her tomorrow, wanting to know why she went to Mr Way about her might-be-pregnant situation, but right now, I had a detention to attend to.
I stepped further and entered the classroom. It seemed strangely quiet, Mr Way had somehow disappeared. I looked around the room, turning to look behind me as well. When I looked back in front of me, my heart leaped into my throat, and I screamed shortly.
Mr Way was standing just inches from me, with his normal dark expression. He didn't seem affected by my scream at all.
"You're late." He said in monotone.
I was silent for a few seconds before saying, "I know."
He furrowed his eyebrows in almost a confused way and looked closer at me, "What is wrong with you?" He asked in a dark voice.
It was then my turn to knit my eyebrows together at his question, "I'm sorry?"
"Are you completely incapable of turning up to my class on time? This is the third time in two days."
The familiar feeling of anger bubbled inside me, but I refused to let it show, "I've been in the nurse's office all afternoon." Mr Way's attention went directly to my knee, all wrapped up in a thick layer of gauze.
It took a moment, and then realization hit him. This caught me by surprise. Mr Way didn't know he had knocked my over earlier today, "What happened?" He asked curiously.
I blinked. I hadn't expected this. He knew what had happened, so why was he asking me? It finally came to me that he didn't want the truth. He wanted something different, "I tripped on the way to homeroom. I'm a clumsy person. Happens all the time."
The corner of his mouth lifted lifted slightly, but then went back down, "You better stick to that story if you know what's good for you. Now, follow me, you have a detention to do." He walked passed me out of the room and down the hall, the way I had came.
I turned around slowly, and tried to keep up with him, wherever we were going.