CHAPTER THIRTEEN-Of Injuries and Earthworms

With Lo back in my corner, I approached school Tuesday morning with an air of confidence. After all, if one has their best friend by their side to keep them from acting like a complete stubborn bitch, what is there to hold them back?

Nothing, that’s what.

The frigid winds of late October tried to steal my scarf before blowing me through the doors of Blue Springs South. I snuggled closer into my jacket, pulling it tight enough to make it feel like a straightjacket, and headed towards my locker. I hadn’t made it two feet before I bumped into a solid object, yet again…I looked up to see if it was the person I hoped it was.

“Hi, David,” I said, almost shyly. He had to know something was up-I was never shy around him, and he knew that perfectly well. A long pause followed my words, and I gazed into those blue-green eyes, trying to guess what he was feeling. I exhaled a shaky laugh. “You know, David, the most commonly accepted reply to the word ‘hi’ is ‘hello’ or ‘good morning’. I mean, you could say ‘hi’, too, or hell, say ‘guten tag’ for all I care.”

He shook his head and pushed past me, not bothering to speak at all. I felt my stomach drop to my feet as I watched him walk away. A second later, I felt Lo at my shoulder.

“You saw all of that, didn’t you?” I asked quietly, continuing to stare in the direction that David had gone.

“Yeah, I did,” she replied, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Are you going to be okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, sure,” I replied, wiping a hand across my eyes. “Perfect.”

“Liar,” she said, putting her arm around my waist.

“I’m not giving up,” I said. “I don’t want him to be angry with me anymore, Lo. I’ve never wanted someone’s approval the way I want his right now, and it makes me feel so fucking stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” she said as she guided me in the direction of homeroom. “You like him, and I know that he still likes you. Just keep trying.”

I nodded. “All right, I’ll keep trying. Even if it fucking kills me, I will get his friendship back.”

==========

So I kept trying. Tuesday in biology I made a concerted effort to be as nice as possible, letting him answer questions and keeping my snarky comments to a minimum. Still, he ignored me. And so the days continued-Wednesday slipped into Thursday, and Thursday fell into Friday; another weekend passed, and before I knew it, it was Monday once again.

I didn’t care to admit how much it stung to have him purposely avoid looking at me in class; I unexpectedly missed the days when he used to follow me out of class and try to get a conversation out me. We never joked, never laughed anymore; every moment was filled with more and more impenetrable silence. I knew it was nothing less than what I deserved, and so I waited.

And waited, and waited.

I didn’t want to believe that he had already given up on me-it had only been a week and a half since his unexpected confession, and I was stupidly hoping that he was just trying to hurt me the way I’d hurt him, because that would mean that he still cared enough to make the effort to hurt me.

Sick and twisted? Yes.

But it was better than believing that he was just ignoring me because he no longer believed me worthy of his attention.

And so, with these rather morbid thoughts racing across my brain like a jackrabbit on speed, I approached class Monday with caution. Yes, I’d pulled down the top two rows of my wall, but I was still only peeking over. I didn’t want to collapse it just yet, because I knew what would await me on the other side…

Pain, misery, and, ultimately, more pain. I couldn’t bear the thought of caring for his opinion so much when all I was going to receive was another slap of silence.

I had barely reached my seat when I saw him shuffle into the classroom, his Converse squeaking against the floor as he approached his chair. I looked up at him as he approached, his eyes stormy and his smirk nowhere in sight.

I missed that smirk.

“Morning, David,” I said quietly, taking my feet off of the top of the table and sitting up straight. I tried a smile, but it didn’t seem to want to emerge at his stony expression. I turned away and looked toward the front of the classroom, biting my lip to keep the tears from falling.

Was he really never going to speak to me again?

After a few moments of silence, Mr. Willow came into the classroom, beaming. “Good morning, good morning!” he called cheerfully, his round cheeks a bright cherry red. Clearly he’d just emerged from the great outdoors-only the harsh Missouri wind could produce a red like that. “This morning, we’re going to be doing our very first dissection of the semester! Aren’t you guys excited?”

I nodded, but my heart wasn’t really in it. Let’s face it-dissections aren’t nearly as fun if you can’t make your inchworm do intestine dances to entertain your lab partner, and David definitely wasn’t acting as if he was in the mood for such silliness from me.

Mr. Willow pointed to a small bucket on the countertop at the back of the classroom. “The worms are located in the bucket. Pick up a tray, a scalpel, and a few pins to secure the skin of your worm. Identify the organs with your partner and then do a little exploring…I want to see what oddities you come out with.”

I nodded again. Maybe this would make David talk to me…

“Do you want to get the worm or should I?” I asked, looking for the return of my helpful lab partner. He didn’t bother to look at me before getting up and heading to the back of the classroom.

Well, that shot that theory to hell.

At least he was listening to me.

Oh, God. I have gotten so damn pathetic, it’s starting to be not funny. I’m celebrating that he heard me? I let out a loud sigh and leaned down to get my book out of my messenger bag. By the time I re-emerged, David was back with the silver tray, the worm laid out like a stiff at a morgue on the rubbery black bed of the tray.

“Well, he’s not very lively,” I joked, trying to get a reaction.

Nothing. Damn it.

I took the scalpel out of the tray and reached over with gusto, gently sliding the edge over the delicate skin of the earthworm. It split down the middle, sort of like the alien’s head in that Independence Day movie with Bill Pullman…sort of creepy, but completely cool. I moved with caution, avoiding slicing the delicate dorsal vessel that ran down the middle of the creature, until the entire worm was sliced lengthwise. I took the pins and started pulling the skin back to expose the organs, getting a twisted delight at the way the fluid oozed onto the tray. After a moment of struggling, I grabbed the scalpel to create small slices in the skin so I could pull it back easier. I went to make the first cut…

“Shit!” I looked down at my middle finger on my left hand. Blood was streaming out of a deep cut

on the pad of my finger-apparently I’d put more force than necessary into the cut, and had accidentally gotten my finger instead of the worm…

“Are you okay?”

I turned, trying to make sure I was hearing right. Did David just talk to me?

I must have looked like a complete idiot, holding my finger in front of me, blood dripping onto the floor and my mouth hanging open like my jaw had come unhinged.

“Vannie, are you all right? That looks pretty deep,” he repeated, looking down at my finger.

“Y-yeah,” I stammered, still working my way out of stunned silence. After a moment, the pain flooded to my brain, and I winced. “Fuck, that hurts.”

He took my bleeding hand in his, examining the cut. “Mr. Willow?” he called out, not letting me go. If I knew that all it would take to get him to speak to me was mutilate my finger, I’d have done it days ago.

Mr. Willow came over to our desk, hearing the worry in David’s voice. He took one look at my finger and winced. “Van, I think you cut down the muscle. You’re going to need stitches as soon as possible,” he said to me. I barely heard him-I was focusing on the look of worry in David’s beautiful eyes. He had to care if he looked worried!

Oh, shit. I really am pathetic.

It took me a second to realize that Mr. Willow was grabbing onto my arm to take me to the nurse’s office. I nodded and took my hand out of David’s so that I could walk to the nurse’s and doubtlessly make the subsequent trip to the hospital for a nice set of stitches.

Progress.

I was making progress, and, at that moment, that was all that really mattered.