The Nobody Chronicles: Chapter One (part four)

         Now, the nurse’s office at my school is one of those places that you do everything in your power to avoid, except that it’s like the only hideout when you totally haven’t prepared for a test or left your homework at home or something like that and you just can’t go to class unprepared again so you wind up going there anyway and then immediately regret it. I mean, I guess it didn’t use to be so bad, but now that the nurse is aware of the sanctuary her office could provide to terrified and drowning adolescent high school students she seems to go out of her way to make a trip to her office an utterly painful experience

       Unfortunately, when you have an actual illness, or in my case a cut forehead, and you have to go to the nurse legitimately, she still feels the need to treat you like some sort of junkie trying to manipulate her into giving you some free narcotics (which of course she doesn’t even have so who knows what the hell she is so worried about.)

       But whatever, there I was walking to the dreaded third floor room and praying silently that for once I could get in and out of there without the twenty minute lecture on how I’m such an irresponsible teenager and how in the real world you don’t just get to skip out on responsibilities because your tummy hurts a little and blah blah blah old people ramblings. Now, if you haven’t already gathered this, I am not by my nature a lucky person. In fact, I have never, in the history of the world, won any sort of raffle or whatever, not even like one of those stupid ones they do at school to try and make people feel good about themselves. So, knowing this about I myself, I probably should have been more wary when I found myself in the empty nurses’ office, but of course, being me, I instead did a mini victory dance in my brain and checked the win column for the day.

       Smiling to myself, I walked to the back of the small office where there stood a box of band-aids and some Neosporin. As I covered the small gash that was still bleeding lightly in the upper right corner of my head, just high enough to be partially covered by my bangs but low enough to still be visible, I couldn’t help feeling a bit like some sort of warrior with a battle scar. I mean, sure, I didn’t do anything brave or honorable or whatever, but in some ways just making it through a day of high school is like braving the jungle or desert or wherever it is people are fighting these days.        
      Anyway, there I was trying to find a way to hide the band-aid completely (it totally didn’t go with my outfit) when I heard a voice behind me. Reflected in the mirror, I saw the messy, black hair of Warren Joslin, who, in his standard swagger, half-smiled at me before taking a seat in one of the chairs that sat against the wall.

       Now, as I’ve said before, I’ve gone to school with the same kids for like practically my entire life, and when that happens, people inevitably get labels. I mean, look at me, I’m the nobody, the inconsequential member of our student body, who could have transferred without little gossip surrounding my disappearance.

       Well, anyway, ever since I can remember, Warren Joslin was the infamous playboy of the school. I mean, you know the kinda guy, the guy that treats every girl like she’s special, the guy with a perfect playbook on how to get girls to fall for him. Not to say that he was a bad guy, I mean, he was nice enough I suppose, it was just that he knew what he wanted and he knew how to get it and he didn’t apologize for it.

       Like every other girl in the world, I of course had fallen for his tricks on multiple occasions, not that we were particularly close or anything. That was Warren’s gift, he could make any girl feel like she was important to him, even if just for a brief moment in time, but that moment left an impression that lasted a lifetime.

       Like, Warren and I had once done a school project together, and I could still remember the way I had thought I noticed his hand linger when it grazed mine while we read through books and painted our poster. Of course, I’m sure I was imagining it, I mean, even Warren Joslin wouldn’t waste his talents on me, but still, I couldn’t help but feel an excited nervousness at the thought of him, especially being alone in a room together.

       Of course, my over-active imagination was interrupted by the arrival of the nurse, who, from the way she stormed into the room, was obviously in an even worse mood than usual.