Page 40 of This I Know
Avery
If it had happened any faster, I wouldn’t have known what hit me. But this time, unlike last time, in the dark with my attacker, I knew exactly what was going on.
I knew because I realized my mistake as soon as it happened. It happened with full, painful realization. It was my fault. My own stupid, angry leg.
And it wasn’t as easy as I expected.
Brendan met up with me again, almost running himself into me as soon as I stepped out of class. I know this guy – I should have expected that.
“Hey, Avery!” he said, announcing his presence without a hint of shame.
“Hi, Brendan.”
“Say, I thought about it–” Brendan begins, and tries to hold the paper out to me again.
“Brendan, I’m sorry, but I can’t to this right now. Okay?” I start to walk away while maintaining some kind of eye contact, trying to give a sympathetic look through those thick-rimmed glasses. I don’t want the kid to think I’m blowing him off. “Okay?”
He drops the paper to his side and slumps his shoulders.
I’m so caught up in him while I’m walking away, my head lagging behind my swiftly moving feet, that I fall.
In the middle of the crowded hallway. In front of everyone.
But I don’t just trip, or stumble, as embarrassing as each of those things would have been. No … I fall, and I fall hard. And the sudden squeak of my shoe scuffing against the slick linoleum causes them to turn their heads.
In an instant, my cheek hits the hard school flooring. I freeze there on the ground, and flashes run through my head. Flashes of a moment like this, minus the embarrassment and publicity of it all, but similar in all the sensations of shock. A moment that had once been so similar to this in its helplessness.
I feel the fear.
My palms, still pressed, begin to sweat.
I half expect to see an empty, soundless suburban street when I lift my head.
And then the snickering brings me back to life.
It’s just school. I dare to raise my head. And instead of the threat of a potential killer, it’s just a crowd of mocking students that I’m surrounded by. Horrible, laughing students.
I try to move my leg, that damn, bum leg – I wince at the pain.
I lower my forehead back down. It’s more than just the memory of my attack that I’m reliving. I’m reliving everything. Every sensation – the feel of shock of something so unexpected, so surprising as to knock not only you off your feet, but your entire world off kilter, even if only for a moment. I just experienced everything again, from the feeling of something cold and flat and hard against my face to the irregular pounding and fluttering of my heart inside my chest, the muscle high off adrenaline and shock. And I’m not sure I can take it.
I should have expected this to happen. What I didn’t expect was the sound of snickering coming from the small crowd of people held up around me, rising and falling like my attempts at life.
I also didn’t expect a large shadow to suddenly loom over me, a shadow that was obviously male, based on the stature of it, but one that couldn’t be skinny little Brendan. And I didn’t expect that shadow to remain there, instantly protecting me from all the sounds of laughter and even, in some way, the feelings inside of me.
I don’t want to look up again. I don’t want to face the crowd.
But I don’t have to. A hand touches mine, prying it away from where it’s pressed against the floor and folding it in its own and slowly lifting me entirely up.
With this help, I manage to stand. My leg still hurts, but his time it stays under me.
I’m dazed. My world is spinning.
“I’m okay,” I say. Stupidly, as if I’d actually been asked.
This person is still holding me. His arm falls in place behind me, clutching my side in support.
Wait. Who is this, exactly, touching me? I pull my hand away and take one half step to the side, just enough to escape him. Finally I look up to see who it is standing so close to me, so protectively.
