Romance Fan Fiction ❯ Tutoring Love ❯ The Arts Of Falling ( Chapter 3 )

/Lizzy's POV/

 

So how embarrassing is it when you wake up on the hard pavement with a headache, and when you see a guy hovering over you, you blurt out “I've got pepper spray!”?

 

Bag over the head embarrassing.

 

I tried to sit up, but lost my energy halfway, and fell back down, almost giving up consciousness.

 

Damn. My head was pretty heavy.

 

It took me a minute to realize that I was still being watched by a smiling boy. I thought of what to say, anything, to explain the `pepper spray' comment.

 

Unfortunately, when I hit my head, I must have knocked out a lot of IQ points, because what did I say?

 

“Ow!”

 

The stranger burst out laughing. I'm guessing he was trying to hold it in, because at first, his face was red, but I guess he doesn't have much self-control.

 

Wait…that laugh…I've heard it before…tons of times in the hallway…

 

“Dillon Locksworth!” I half screamed, half growled.

 

“So you know me. What's your name?”

 

He didn't even seem one bit surprised that I knew him!

 

“Self conceited jerk.” I muttered.

 

Damn it, did I say that out loud?

 

He looked shocked for a moment, and then regained himself.

 

“So, hi self conceited jerk, you okay from the fall? What happened?”

 

“I'm fine. God!” I tried to get up on the last word, which succeeded until I got on my feet, and then I fell right on my ass.

 

I swear, if any brain cells were there, they would have been lost.

 

Once again, it took me a while before I said the word. The cursed word that took me a long time to pronounce a single syllable.

 

“Ow!”

 

Again, his laughter proved that I amused him.

 

Dillon held out his hand to help me get up.

 

As if I would touch that disgusting thing.

 

He sighed and went behind me.

 

I actually thought he left before I felt his arm around my waist. His other arm lifted mine over his head so that I could use his broad shoulder for support.

 

I was going to protest, but decided against it when I almost fell over again.

 

Passing out wasn't really my thing, but I'm pretty sure that it shouldn't make you so weak that you can't even stand up.

 

Fuck me for being so weak.

 

“Lizzy.” I told him suddenly. “Lizzy Laming.”

 

His left eyebrow arched up in curiosity of my sudden outburst.

 

Damn it. How does he do that? I've been trying to nail that eyebrow trick for 2 weeks! This guy was freaky.

 

I twisted my face up, fluttering my eyelids as I tried to get some progress with any one of my bushy eyebrows.

 

Dillon's laughter exploded, and I wished I had a mirror to see if I was really that humiliating.

 

He lifted his free hand, and used his index finger to push my eyebrow up.

 

“There,” he told me, “now you did it.”

 

When his hand left my skin, a weird feeling lingered.

 

No, it's not because we're destined to be together, get married, and go make babies in a far away island.

 

His filthy hand left a smudge of dirt on my face.

 

“Oh, uh, sorry.” He mumbled.

 

Dillon hastily tried to wipe it off with the hand that caused the smudge, but instead left an even bigger trail.

 

I used my hand that was on his shoulder to wipe the dirt off. I was kind of glad not to be in that stiff position anymore. The dude was what, 6”4, 6”5? A whole foot taller than me.

 

Yes, I'm a puny 5”4.

 

Wait a minute, I'm standing! Not falling over! Not embarrassing myself! Not losing brain cells!

 

Just now, Dillon tripped over his own feet, and I was glad that he was no longer holding on to me or else I would have fell over with him in a tangled mess.

 

Ha! He's just like me! He absorbed my blonde brain cells!

 

Wait, brain cells can contain secrets can't they?

 

Well, of course they can.

 

Oh-m-gee, that voice sounds weird for my conscience.

 

What if this is Dillon's conscience?!?!

 

Then that means my conscience is in his head!!!!

 

“Don't listen to my conscience!!” I blurted out.

 

Even though he was on the ground, I had no trouble hearing the snicker that escaped out of his firmly closed mouth.

 

Although the words already came out of my stupid mouth, my brain sent little information waves to my hand to slap over my mouth so no more embarrassing words leak out. And that's exactly what I did.

 

Only, with a little more force than needed.

 

“FU-uh-um-uh-uge!-fudge!”

 

“Fudge.” He questioned. Well, more like stated. As if he was adding `you're crazy' onto the statement as well.

 

“Um…yeah…fudge.” I mumbled.

 

“Fudge.” He stated again.

 

“Fudge.” I copied.

 

“Fudge.”

 

“Damn it, will you stop!?” I screamed.

 

For once, he contained his laugh, and I walked away from the idiot.

 

“Hey!” Dillon called. “Wait!”

 

He got up clumsily and stumbled after me.

 

I picked up my own pace, but my short legs couldn't carry me past Dillon for even a short period of time.

 

That sucks.

 

“I don't want to be the last person to school.” He explained to my unasked question.

 

“Oh my god. I'm going to be late for school!” I hyperventilated. “I'm never late! NEVER! NEVER!”

 

“Never? Not even once? By two minutes?”

 

“No!-I'm-always-on-time.” I said as I ran towards the school.

 

The one puny block that I had parked in for safety measures now seemed like it was a mile away.

 

I finally halted when I saw the huge high school towering over me.

 

My breath was already uneven, showing that if this little run was giving me a hard tie, then I definitely needed to exercise more.

 

“You obviously need to run more,” Dillon mocked my thoughts

 

We walked into Massey High School, and into the office.

 

“So why are you two late?” Mrs. Copple, our school secretary asked in her usual stern voice.

 

I was still panting at that pint, so I was unable to answer. Dillon however, cut in for me.

 

“I'm sorry Mrs. Copple,” he said in a sweet venomous way, “but Lizzy here had a little, um, health problem, so of course I had to help her out.”

Dillon gestured towards me, and I guess my huffing and puffy were enough to convince Mrs. Copple.

 

Not only was I inhaling and exhaling the air at a rapid pace, but I was also stuttering, saying how it was Dillon's fault for me being late.

 

Then I remembered that motorcycle, and started to burst into tears instead of shouting and yelling.

 

Is it that time of month sweetie?” Mrs. Copple asked.

 

Pfft! As if she was concerned! She just wanted to embarrass me.

 

Well, mission accomplished! Next thing I knew, my face was burning up and Dillon was back to his snickering self.

 

I grabbed the note Mrs. Copple had just finished writing, mumbled the most polite thank you I could manage, and stomped out of the office with a now quiet Dillon trailing after me.

 

My hands automatically spun the lock on my locker and it swung open, revealing my simple and neat space.

 

There were no hearts, posters or mirrors. Just my books and a backpack.

 

What I hadn't noticed though, was that the floor was wet.

 

Right after I grabbed the books I needed for English, and slammed my locker shut, I slipped and fell on my butt.

 

“You just love the ground, don't you?”

 

I looked up and saw Dillon, whose locker just so happens to be near mine, towering over me, and offering a hand.

 

Again, I ignored it, and picked myself up, not caring if I was impolite.

 

I bent down to pick up the things I dropped, hoping that my shorts weren't showing major butt crack alert.

 

I hesitated, waiting for a laugh to confirm my guess.

 

(snicker)(cough)(snicker)(cough)(cough)

 

My face turned beet red.

 

I shot back up, wanting to punch Dillon in the guts, but resisted the temptation.

 

“Umm…(cough)…you've got…uh(cough, cough) an um…”

 

He gestured towards the back of my shorts and I spun around in circles, as if I was a dog trying to chase its own tail.

 

My shorts were wet. There was a water stain on my butt, making it look like I had just peed my pants. Seriously though, shouldn't the janitors wait until school was over to clean the floor? With all the dirt we drag in from outside, it's making mud, and they just have more work to do. Maybe I could quickly go to the restroom and blow dry my butt…

 

“Come on, we have to get to Ms. Uptomor's English class,” urged Dillon, suddenly finding his voice again.

 

We? Damn it. I forgot I had English with this guy. Oh great, and I have to put up with him for history after that, and pre-calculus…FUCK! He's in all of my classes except for French! This day can not possibly get any worse.

 

I spoke too soon.

 

Dillon opened the door for me to room 502 like a real gentleman, and I rolled my eyes in response. My feet carried me into the cool air conditioned room, packed with only half the kids, seeing that the other half, the popular snobby people, were probably still intoxicated with alcohol and staying at home with a hangover from yesterday's party.(Wait, why is Dillon here?) My nose picked up the scent of Oreo cookies, and judging by the crumbs on Ms. Uptmor's frowning lips, that's why all the escaped biology pet rats were found in this room.

 

My own lips curled upwards at the edges when I remembered that the person who let the furry little animals out was me. I floated back to reality from my daydream scenario when Dillon's hand brushed up lightly against my own to grab the excuse slip that Ms. Uptmor had been asking for, for the past 10 seconds of my zone-out mode.

 

When the piece of yellow paper passed into my field of vision, 3 letters stood out to me.

 

P-M-S.

 

If my life was a cartoon, I'd have steam coming out of my blown up head.

 

I was NOT PMSING!

 

After Mrs. Uptmor's eyes thoroughly scanned the slip of paper, they traveled up my legs and stopped at the sight of my damp shorts.(Hopefully not for perverted reasons.)

 

“Miss Laming, I understand that you have a health issue right now, but that should not prevent you from being on time to school. Most of us handle it pretty well. And uh…” she added in, trying to be quieter that time, but failed miserably, “I'll always have some if you need it.”

 

I was relieved that she didn't say anything embarrassing, but soon, relief turned into embarrassment when I saw Ms. Uptmor's hand snake down into her desk drawing, pulling out a tampon, and offering it to me. My face burned up instantly when she did this in front of an audience. I shook my head sideways quickly as a refusal, and walked hurriedly to my seat in the front row, a seat that's in full view of anyone who wanted to stare.

 

While Ms. Uptmor droned on about similes and metaphors, something that we had all learned about in 5th grade, I zoned out, daydreaming about bunnies and rainbows.

 

Okay, scratch the last part, but I was zoned out, zoned out enough not to hear the bell ring, and had to have my evil teacher drag me out of her classroom. My body followed my feet, not exactly knowing where I was going, just following the daily routine that I had everyday for the past couple of weeks or so. My hands automatically spun the digits to my locker once again, not even bothering to at it, and yet I opened it on the first try. I grabbed the textbook that I needed next from my bare locker, and stomped away into the crowed echoing hallway.

 

“Sorry,” I mumbled like a zombie when I bumped into someone hard, crushing my too big boobs to death.

 

“Whoa, what's with you Bethy?” As soon as I heard my so called nickname, Bethy, I new that the person who almost deflated my breasts was my best friend Sarah Davis.

 

“Oh. Didn't see you there Say.” I replied by using my nickname for her. I sounded so distant, even to myself, that I wondered if maybe my conscience took my voice and my attention span with it to go partying in Dillon's head.

 

I frowned just by thinking of hem. Evil bastard, acting oh so innocent, then sweeps a girl off of her feet, steals her heart, and then crushing it like fragile crystal glass.(He's known for that reputation) I mean, hasn't anyone ever heard of karma? If the karma god was here, he'd push Dillon off of those slippery stairs and down the steps of death.

 

I smiled as I imagined the violent scene in my head. As he fell down, he would break his arm, and throw in a leg as well. And just for good measures, on the final steps of the stairs, he'd break his spine.

 

Yes, I know that I have issues and I hate people really easily. And since karma isn't on my side today, I'd just have to mentally abuse Dillon every time I see him.

 

I turned my attention back to Sarah, only to find her not there.

 

Actually, nobody was standing by me. They had all rushed away from the bottoms of the stairs as if I was a contagious disease. I ignored the yelling I heard to take a whiff at my armpits. Did I forget to put deodorant on today or something?

 

BAM!

 

I fell instantly and the cold muddy floor caught my fragile body. My lungs stopped working and I couldn't breathe.

 

Well, that's probably because there's somebody on top of you. DUH!

 

Hey! Welcome back conscience!

 

Yeah, it's good to be back.

 

I have a pretty good idea of who's killing me right now…

 

Yeah? So do I! Oh, and did I mention something?

 

What?

 

Say hello to conscience and goodbye conscious.

 

My already closed eyelids drooped down even more as I passed out.