Meant to Be (The Saving Angels 1)

“I feel like I have nothing in common with any of them,” Sam said.

I looked up surprised. Sam was studying the group with the Frisbee much the same way I had just done a few minutes ago. I laughed in relief.

“I can relate. I always feel that way in school, more like an observer, than a participant…”

I was interrupted when I noticed that Sam and I had become the topic of conversation for a group of guys walking by.

“Who’s that sitting next to fridge,” I heard one of them ask.

“I don’t know, some new chick I guess, why, do you think you can score with her?” his friend asked.

Neither seemed to care that Sam and I could hear them. They stood there eyeing me like I was a steak or something.

I could feel a familiar wave of embarrassment approaching and tried to fight it back, but quickly realized it was too late. I knew that I needed to get out of there before Sam saw me get sick. The last thing I wanted was to puke in front of my new friend like a freak.

I scrambled to my feet. “I’ve got to go.”

Dusting the grass abruptly off the seat of my skirt, I spared one last glance at Sam before darting off. I felt a twinge of guilt by the hurt look on her face.

The first bell rang as I rushed frantically through the halls searching for a restroom. Students jostled me on every side as they rushed off to their classes. It took me a few minutes to realize I had no idea where the nearest bathroom was.

What an idiot, I had neglected to look for bathrooms when studying the school map. Stepping out of the flow of traffic, I leaned against the wall trying to get my bearings back. I was hoping to avoid an episode like this on my first day at my new school. The sweat was beading quickly on my forehead, and I felt a burning sensation rising up into my throat. I tried to calm down quickly before I made a spectacle of myself.

I clamped my eyes shut, knowing from past experience this would help speed the process along. It was best to let the waves run their course and hopefully I wouldn’t throw up. As soon as I could move again, I would find a drinking fountain and sneak some Advil. I didn’t know what the school’s policy was about taking over the counter medication. At my old school, you had to have a doctor’s note on file in the school clinic in order to take Advil. I opted out of bringing one in for the new school figuring I would only be here for a few months. I figured if I had an attack, I could sneak some. Of course, I neglected to put any in my backpack that I had checked and rechecked the day before. I was a dope.

The waves finally slowed their attack on me and I felt like I was regaining control.

My thoughts were interrupted when I felt a water bottle being pressed into my left hand, and two pills being pushed into my right.

“Close your hand around the pills, they don’t like you to take medicine without a note,” Sam murmured in my ear.

I palmed the pills while I took a shaky drink of water. As the water flowed down my throat, some of the sickness from the emotional wave began to leave me. After a second drink, I was ready to swallow the pills. I knew real relief was about an hour away, but felt I might be able to make it to a bathroom. Making it to homeroom on time no longer seemed feasible, but looking like I might puke was not the first impression I wanted to make in my new school, anyway.

Sam took the water bottle from me as she grabbed onto my elbow and began to steer me down the hallway. When the fogginess in my head finally began to clear, I opened my eyes, but could only make out the shapes of the people we passed. My eyesight would return to normal in a few moments once the Advil began its work on my damaged nerves.

I was more than a little confused that Sam had known how desperately I needed the water and Advil. It was if she knew exactly what I was going through, which was ridiculous.

“Can I help you girls?” asked a kind elderly voice.

My eyes were finally fully focused and I saw that Sam had led me to the school clinic.

“Yeah, this is her first day, and I think nerves are making her sick,” Sam replied.

“Oh! You poor dear. Follow me. I know how tough it is in a new school. Come lay down on a cot in the back.”

“Can I come with her?” Sam asked. “I thought I could walk her to class when she’s feeling better.”

“That sounds fine dear. Just let me know if you need anything,” she said as she patted me on the back on her way out.

I sat on the edge of the cot in the room which resembled a daybed more than a cot. In my old school, the cots were made of canvas and metal and smelled like the outdoors, and not in a good way.

Glancing around the room, I could see more benefits of going to a private school. Instead of the industrial steel gray color walls that made up the clinic of my old school, the walls in this room were painted a warm honey yellow. The color had an instant soothing feeling that started to ease my frazzled nerves. The yellow walls were broken up by white chair rails that ran the length of the walls. Above the chair rails were a series of appealing paintings. Each painting had the same exotic looking tree. At first glance they all looked the same, but when you studied them more closely, you could pick out subtle differences to distinguish between each one.

Sam sat in the easy chair next to the daybed where I was perched.

No folding chairs for private school, I thought as I studied the rich hardwood planks that made up the floors throughout the room. I shook my head slightly, thinking that even the flooring in this school was a far cry from the cracked linoleum floors that covered every square foot of flooring in my old high school.

“I’m sorry I walked away from you,” I finally blurted, feeling slightly embarrassed.