Chapter 6

I could see blood seeping out from my shirt. I felt its contrasting warmth as it trickled over my skin. D reacted instantly, lifting my shirt just enough, his eyes widening in horror.

Although I knew he was trying to figure out what was wrong. I felt embarrassed. When I looked down, I had been clueless about my condition; I had a severe cut across the right side of my stomach!

"Holy shit, you're bleeding like crazy! What happened to you?" D shouted far too loudly.

I tried to answer, but the pain twisted in my stomach, stealing my breath. My knees buckled. I could barely stand.

Becky quickly jumped in, her voice urgent. "She got into a dogfight last night trying to save Baby, her dog."

D looked around at the growing crowd forming around us. Without hesitation, he swiftly but gently scooped me up in his arms and raced toward the nurse’s office, moving faster than I thought possible. I was too weak to protest. 

"Kaysi, stay awake! You're losing too much blood," he urged, his voice tight with worry. "I need you to put pressure on your stomach!"

By the time we reached the nurse’s office, my strength was fading fast, nearly gone. The nurse peeled my hands away and gasped at the amount of blood. Before I could react, D pressed his hands over the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"You shouldn’t have come to school like this," he muttered, frustration and fear lacing his words.

The nurse shook her head. "This needs stitches immediately—but I don't have the required training to do it. She informed us, then grabbed the phone and dialed 911. Until the ambulance arrives." She glanced at D. "Keep applying pressure. Don’t let up!"

This was the second time I had ever seen D’s expression shift so drastically. He looked like a ghost, his face etched with worry.  His face had drained of color, his jaw clenched tight.

"You'll be alright," he whispered to me, locking eyes with me.

I felt like that was a lie to make me feel better. 

I looked up at him from the bed and, with what little strength I had left, smiled weakly. "I’m sorry."

I wasn’t even sure what I was apologizing for, maybe for scaring him. Perhaps it's because I put myself in this situation. Maybe just because I didn’t know what else

My intrusive thoughts made me want to look at myself right now.  However, I dared not act recklessly and was too weak.

The paramedics arrived moments later, their voices distant as the world blurred at the edges. As they lifted me onto the stretcher, I barely registered what I was saying.

"Who's this?" one of them asked, referring to D, who refused to let go of my hand.

I accidentally said "my boyfriend" instead of a guy that's my friend—I mumbled, the words slipping out before I could stop them. 

When I woke up, the beeping of hospital machines filled the room. I blinked groggily, my body aching, my stomach burning.

D was sitting in the chair beside me. His head was down, arms crossed, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

I shifted slightly, and it drew his attention.

"What… are you doing here?" My voice was hoarse. "How did they let you in?"

He gave a half-hearted smile. "They didn’t want me to let go of you. You lost a lot of blood, Kaysi. I had to keep the pressure on even in the ambulance."

I swallowed hard. "Was it really that bad?"

He hesitated, then sighed. "Some of your intestine was showing."

I nearly choked. "Wait—WHAT?! My stomach was hanging out?!"

"You must’ve reopened your wound when you twisted during dodgeball. The doctors think the original injury came from an animal attack—something big. Maybe a cougar or a bear. But you told Becky it was just a dogfight.

He gave me a look, one that said he didn’t buy my story.

"What—I don’t get is why you just bandaged yourself up. Why didn't you go to the hospital in the first place?"

"It was dark, and I had an adrenaline high. I wasn’t thinking straight," I answered, though even I knew it was a flimsy excuse."

I could tell he didn’t buy into this story either. However, he didn’t ask any more questions. I must be off the hook, I thought to myself.

I stayed in the hospital for four days. D visited me every single day. Once, his grandmother even stopped by. She looked oddly familiar—like someone from my past, but I couldn’t quite place her.

When I finally returned to school, I became the subject of much discussion. People I didn’t even know were suddenly interested in what had happened. 

They had watched D race through the school with me bleeding everywhere. Of course, the ambulance contributed to the drama and attracted their attention.

Well—at least that day, I became more known, I thought to myself.

When I finally returned to school, I became the talk of the halls. People I didn’t even know were suddenly interested in what had happened. Rumors spread like wildfire about the incident—some said I was attacked with a knife, and others claimed I had a virus that made me cough up blood.

But strangely, nobody included D in their stories— even though he was the one who saved me.

Kids will do anything to get cheap entertainment.  

Two days after I returned, D found me after school, grinning. "So, I heard you called me your boyfriend before passing out."

I groaned, covering my face. "I was delirious. Don’t read too much into it."

"Well, maybe I should make it official," he teased. Then, more seriously, "Want to go on a real date with me?"

"Yeah, sure."  I giggled. 

Since I was already staying after school for tutoring, it gave us more time to be together.    It was needed from too many missed days of school while being in the hospital and at appointments.  

This gave us more opportunity to hang out.

Towards the end of the school year, he became the best boyfriend I’d ever had—not that I had much to compare to, having only dated one other guy before. But unlike the last, D actually respected me.

The following semester, we had a class that overlapped. It came in handy whenever I was sick and would bring my papers to me. 

As winter rolled in, he asked me to attend the Snowball Dance with him. 

He was a grade higher than I was and was soon to graduate.

We had been dating for two weeks. 

I felt scared that we were moving too quickly at the time. He looked at me as I hesitated to respond.

"So, do you not know how to dance or something?" 

"Yes, I told him very shyly. But I could learn before then." Could I get my mom to take me? I wondered. Or would she even allow me to go?

I could tell he felt relieved.  "Nor do I, but isn't it fun to try?" he joked, slipping into a country accent.

I laughed. Yes, D, it would be. Two dorks on a dance floor," I said, messing with him.

I was basking in the sun's warmth as I leaned against the brick wall of the building. For a February day, it was pretty warm, with a cool and calming breeze coming through the trees. The sun is beaming down. The birds sang as if it was springtime. It was incredibly peaceful, and I relaxed, melting into the stone beside me.

I spoke up as D was observing me.  Trying to figure out what world I was in. 

"I enjoy soaking up the good days like this when everything goes right and perfect for once."

 He smiled at that comment.  I took a deep breath of the fresh air and closed my eyes. Sweet moments like this burned into my mind and touched my soul.

"What could be any better than this?"  I whispered.  "I love days like this. When things just… feel right."

He smiled at that. I closed my eyes and daydreamed, letting the breeze wash over me. Then, out of nowhere, I felt his lips gently brush —they were warm.

The warm breeze felt unbelievable, and this was my first kiss. I was thinking about this moment, going over every detail in depth. 

Whoa, his lips were perfectly warm and moist.  It felt unusual; I could feel my face feeling hot—blushing red as my heart skipped beats as it raced. In my mind, we stood there for what seemed like a long time, but only seconds passed.

When I opened my eyes, his face held a hint of worry. "Was that bad?"

Were my thoughts too loud? However, it wasn't a major concern. I blinked, trying to process it. "No… just different. You caught me off guard."

I thought to myself, since this was my first experience, how could I be sure anyway? How does one imagine a kiss to feel?

D seemed perplexed, and I was at a loss for words. "I apologize; did I act impulsively and go too far?" 

"I giggled lightly; no, it's just different. You caught me off guard, that's all."

"So I wasn’t that good compared to what you had before," he said, confused.

"No.…" "Jeez, for crying out loud." I felt like dorks, I admitted.  I scoffed. "How would I know? It’s my first time."

His eyes widened. Then, to my horror, he started laughing—full-on, deep-belly laughter.

"Nerd, is this your first kiss?" He grinned.

I was unsure of my feelings after my first kiss, which was hard to admit.

Was it good? D acted way too casually and forward about such an embarrassing subject.

"Well, it was hot and sweet." Is this how a kiss feels like?" I asked.

D started laughing.

I had never seen him laugh so hard or smile so broadly.

He teased, "Nerd, is this your first time?" 

"Indeed, but you don't have to laugh," I pouted. I took my bag off and hit him with a whack.

Looking at us, you wouldn’t even know we were a couple. We never hung out outside of school. I didn’t have his number. My mom barely let me have friends over, let alone a boyfriend. She would freak out completely.

I thought it was just a casual middle school romance, and I never thought anything like this would happen, like us kissing.

When I asked my mom if I could go to the dance, she refused. She wouldn’t buy me a dress or even let me attend.

I felt like Cinderella—only without the fairy godmother. Half the time, anyway, but this was rich. She disapproved of me dating when she learned about it.

Her excuse was mainly that she had never met him. But my mom never gave me any opportunity for friends to come over, much less a guy.

I thought I would tell her sooner, but I don’t think it would have made a difference. We fought. She grounded me. That night, I made up my mind—I would get emancipated. At fifteen, I could prove to the courts I was stable enough to live on my own.

I would have moved out, but I had at least 2 1/2 more years until I turned 18. I figured that D and I could maybe move in together.

I had missed the ball, but I didn't let that stop me. The following day, I went up to D, ready to apologize and share my plan for our new life.

He didn’t look happy. "Hey, D," I was about to speak when he interrupted me.

"Kaysi," he interrupted. "Before you start with whatever you are about to say," I need to say something first." 

I am breaking up with you.