Chapter 9: Nurse’s Office Allies

Nine

There weren’t many people in the nurse’s office, just one student sitting on a bed—Caleb.

The nurse’s office smelled like antiseptic and peppermint from the candy jar on the counter. The school nurse, Ms. Evans in a soft gray cardigan, stacked saltine packets near a tray of juice boxes. Caleb lounged on the cot, tossing a basketball in the air. He grinned when he saw me.

Seeing me, his eyes lit up and he smiled.

He sat up straighter, patting the empty spot beside him. "Well, if it isn’t Miss Pink herself," he joked.

"Hi, Natalie!"

He gave me a quick wave, his voice bright. It was a relief to see a friendly face.

"What a coincidence, you’re in the nurse’s office too?"

He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth quirking up. "You dodging gym too, or just here for the company?"

I nodded indifferently.

I managed a weak smile, settling on the edge of the cot. Ms. Evans slid me a juice box and crackers without fuss. My head was still spinning a bit, but his presence was calming.

Then I noticed Caleb was actually injured—his knee was wrapped in thick gauze, blood seeping through and turning the white gauze red.

The sight made my stomach twist. I winced, unable to look away from the spreading stain.

Noticing my gaze, he looked down and scratched his head sheepishly.

He laughed, a little embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess I went a little too hard at practice."

"Ah, this... Sigh, there was a patch of ground peeled up on the playground. I didn’t see it and fell while playing basketball."

He shrugged, like it was no big deal. "Coach says I’m clumsy. I say the court’s out to get me. Also, I’m squeamish about needles—don’t judge."

"It’s nothing, just a flesh wound. What about you, are you okay?"

He glanced at my pale face, concern flickering in his eyes. I waved him off, not wanting to make a big deal out of it.

I’d heard Caleb was captain of the school basketball team, pretty well known.

He had a reputation for being cool under pressure—on the court and off. It was weird seeing him laid up, but he made it look almost fun.

That bloody gauze made my teeth ache. I couldn’t help but be a bit gentler toward him.

I offered him a water bottle from my bag, and he took it with a grateful nod. His easy smile made the nurse's office feel less sterile.

"I’m fine, just low blood sugar. You rest up."

I gave him a small smile. He flashed me a thumbs up, his eyes warm and kind.

Caleb nodded, his smile bright, not at all like someone badly hurt.

He swung his legs off the cot, wincing but grinning. "Guess we’re both tough, huh?"

For the next few days, because of my low blood sugar and my period, and Caleb’s knee injury, we met in the nurse’s office every morning during break.

It became our unofficial hangout—a little island of peace in a stormy school week. We swapped snacks, compared playlists, and traded stories about annoying teachers.

As time passed, we got much more familiar.

Inside jokes popped up, and soon we were finishing each other’s sentences. The nurse teased us, calling us her "favorite regulars."

Caleb was quick to warm up to people, but his personality was cheerful and gentle, very good at caring for others’ feelings, making it easy to relax around him.

He always noticed when I was quiet, always knew when to crack a joke or offer a piece of candy. It was easy, being around him—like breathing in fresh air after a thunderstorm.

One day, Caleb sat on the bed, looking a bit embarrassed.

He fiddled with the edge of his bandage, face pink. "Natalie, I think our friendship could go further, what do you think?"

I was startled and quickly waved my hand to refuse.

I laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Let’s just stick to being friends for now, okay?"

But he didn’t give up. After a week, when we no longer needed the nurse, he came to find me during break every day, sometimes bringing candy, sometimes the milk I liked.

His persistence was endearing—never pushy, always kind. He’d pop up at my locker with my favorite Skittles or a carton of strawberry milk, grinning like a kid.

Whenever he came, he’d hang around my seat, chattering endlessly.

He’d regale the girls with stories about basketball practice, his family’s crazy Thanksgiving traditions, or his failed attempts at baking. My friends started to look forward to his visits as much as I did.

The girls around me were always enthusiastic, giving up their seats for him.

He was a novelty—an upperclassman who actually wanted to hang out with us. It made me feel special, like maybe I mattered after all.

Gradually, rumors spread about senior Caleb dating a junior, and everyone thought we were together.

The whispers started during lunch, spread to the hallways, and by Friday everyone in the school seemed to know my business. I tried not to let it bother me.

I denied it, but everyone just looked at me knowingly, like, "If you don’t want to admit it, fine, but we all know."

My friends would nudge me, winking and giggling. It was embarrassing, but a little exciting too.

The girl behind me gossiped,

She leaned over, stage-whispering like we were in a bad teen sitcom.

"Hey, Nat, let me ask you, does Caleb really have eight-pack abs?"

I nearly choked on my apple juice. I glanced back, cheeks burning.

I was confused. How would I know? But I answered honestly,

I stammered, waving my hands. "No idea, we’re not like that!"

"I don’t know."

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, but my voice was a little too high.

"Oh! Don’t keep secrets from your sisters at a time like this! We just want to know, he never lifts his shirt to wipe sweat during games—no girl has seen his body! He’s like a Netflix lead—Outer Banks vibes!"

The other girls giggled, crowding around me for details I didn’t have.

My deskmate poked me too.

She nudged my shoulder, her eyes twinkling. "Come on, spill!"

"I heard from his teammates that he has eight-pack abs. You’re his only girlfriend, you must have seen, right? Spill! What’s it like? How does it feel?"

They waited, leaning in, eager for gossip.

I thought back. He never lifts his shirt? That can’t be. I remember in the nurse’s office he always complained it was hot, grumbling about the lack of AC, and would lift his shirt to wipe sweat.

I blushed, the memory popping up unbidden. He always complained the nurse’s office was "like a sauna," fanning himself dramatically. I’d catch glimpses of his abs, but never really looked—at least, that’s what I told myself.

Thinking carefully, I realized I probably had seen. I fell into thought and subconsciously said,

"I think so... but he’s pretty skinny, and I never touched..."

"Ahhh! Girl, you’re living the dream!"

The girls squealed, laughing and bumping shoulders. I covered my face, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me.

Before I finished, the girl behind me shouted excitedly.

She thumped the desk, giggling. "Just admit it, Nat! You’ve got the best boyfriend in school!"

"Hey! Shut up, I just glanced a few times, nothing happened, it has nothing to do with me!"

I tried to hush her, but it was no use. The whole class was listening now.

I quickly covered her mouth.

She wriggled away, giggling into her palm. I buried my face in my arms, praying for the bell to ring.

At that moment, a sharp "clang" sounded in the classroom.

A loud crash cut through the laughter. Everyone turned to look.

We looked over. Derek had dropped his metal water bottle; the lid popped off and the jagged rim sliced his finger. His face was pale, as if it took him ages to react, slowly bending down to pick up the pieces.

He stared at the mess, hand shaking. I watched, frozen, unsure what to feel.

As he picked them up, Lauren cried out.

She rushed over, kneeling beside him, her voice high and worried.

"D! Your hand!"

She grabbed his wrist, trying to stop the bleeding. Red drops dotted the linoleum, bright and shocking.

I then noticed Derek’s finger was cut, blood dripping down his hand.

He looked at the wound, eyes distant. It was like he was somewhere else entirely.

He stared at his hand, lost in thought.

He didn’t move, didn’t even flinch when Lauren pressed tissues to the cut. The whole room watched, silent.

"D, I have tissues, come here, I’ll wrap it for you."

Lauren fussed over him, her voice shaky. He ignored her, eyes searching the room.

Lauren tried to help, but Derek shook her off.

He stood, blood still dripping, and walked away from her. Lauren’s face crumpled, but she didn’t follow.

In front of everyone, he actually walked toward me.

His steps were slow, deliberate. The class parted like the Red Sea, all eyes on us.

The cut was deep, but he seemed not to feel pain, blood dripping on the floor as he walked up to me.

He stopped in front of my desk, holding out his hand. My heart skipped a beat.

He looked at me and said softly,

His voice was small, almost childlike. "I’m... hurt, Nat. Can I have a band-aid?"

I looked at him quietly.

My hands tightened in my lap. I thought about all the times I’d patched him up, all the times I’d wanted to.

I always carried band-aids, and Derek knew that.

Hello Kitty, sparkly ones, even superhero ones for when he wanted to act tough. It was a habit I couldn’t break.

It was for him.

Every time I restocked my bag, it was with him in mind. Now, it just felt sad.