Page 80 of We Shouldn't Be Together
Jamie gets up and pulls on my arm. “Come on. Let’s check that I didn’t damage anything.”
“Stop yanking on me,” I say, forcing myself up. “You wanna pull another stitch?”
“Don’t say that,” Jamie whispers harshly. “You can’t damage a stitch. We need your car.”
We leave Tyler at the table and I tell Jamie, “I told you. You’re not driving my car before you get your license.”
“I’m a good driver,” she whines. “There’s just no way I’m gonna afford my own car.”
“Whatever. It’s gonna be a moot point if you’ve given my parents an excuse to take my car away.”
“First step in the plan is checking your stitches.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m walking to the nurse’s office, aren’t I?” I pull my hand away from the inflamed area and quickly put it back when the pain intensifies. “Geez, if you weren’t so touchy, I wouldn’t need to skip lunch.”
“You were mocking my scholarship.”
“Get over it. You don’t want to be a rich snob. You’re just here for soccer and to hang with yours truly.”
She smirks. “If I had to go to public school, I’d probably go out of my mind. So far, my aunt hasn’t caught on to the lack of effort in my assignments.”
The nurse’s office is up ahead, and I can’t help snickering. “I can’t believe I rock climbed on the weekend and didn’t bust a stitch, yet I spend lunch with you and have to see a nurse.”
Her knuckles crack in a fist. “Wanna see round two?”
“Relax,“ I hiss. “It was a freaking observation.”
Jamie knocks on the open door, and luckily no other students are inside. Mrs. Whiteborne, the nurse, makes a fuss at the sight of blood. Luckily, once my shirt is off and she checks out the stitches, she declares no damage has been done.
She cleans up the area and sticks a new bandage over the top to be safe. Our school is way too strict about blazers being on, so Mrs. Whiteborne types up a note, excusing me from wearing it.
I walk out of the nurse’s office with my blazer draped over my arm. In all honesty. I’d be better off putting it back on so no one questions the blood on my sleeve. But I’m irked by the constricting feeling.
A gasp sounds from the right. I turn to find Tabitha staring at me in the hallway. Her chin drops and her pouty lips form an o. On instinct, I cup the space over my stitches. I don’t want her to see the blood, but I know I’m already too late.
“Are you…” she cuts herself off when Jamie steps out of the nurse’s office beside me.
“Here’s your note,” Jamie says, handing me the slip of paper.
“Thanks.” I don’t mean to, but I glance at Tabitha, and Jamie notices.
Jamie gasps and steps back like she’s expecting an attack. But Tabitha has already turned and is pacing in the direction she came from.
“Phew.“ Jamie sighs, pressing a hand into her stomach. “I did not want to deal with Miss Perfect right now.”
“Perfect?” I question.
“All three of them,” Jamie says with a mocking flick of her ponytail. “They’re all so,perfect.”
I smirk. “Pfft. I think you need to look up ‘perfect’ in the dictionary.”
We continue down the hall as the bell for the next period rings overhead.
“You’ve seen them,” Jamie continues. “The hair, the makeup, the way they look in the uniform. Perfect, perfect, perfect.”
“Why are you complimenting them?”
“I’m not! I think they’re ridiculous!”
