Suddenly he whips around, his hands clenched tightly in fists. “Remember this, Abigail. You did it.” He walks back to me quickly, bending down and grabbing the back of my neck to turn my face to him. Before I can respond he leans forward and kisses me, his mouth hot and hard on mine.
When he lets me go, I fall to the ground.
What does he mean that nobody will come?
Why wouldn’t Madeline come?
Even from flat on the ground I can watch him walk away. I want to call out to him but he’s not going to turn back.
Even someone as naïve as I am could figure that out.
***
I have no idea how long I lay on the ground, feeling the dirt and rocks dig into my skin, before I finally push myself up with my left hand. I kneel for a few minutes then, trying to get my bearings, before I finally stand up.
My head swims and I almost swoon again, but gritting my teeth helps me focus. The pain in my right wrist is still excruciating, but it’s more of a dull throb now than a shooting pain. Clutching my hand up to my chest, I start on the path on the way back to Trinity Prep.
I only know that I’m going the right way because of the tracks that Quinn and I left when he tackled me. It takes me much longer than I think it should to get to the edge of the woods, and by the time the school is in sight, the sun has set. Lights glowing in the windows look incredibly inviting and I stumble across the quad, headed not for my dorm, but for the main building.
I don’t want to run into the headmaster, but I have to get to a nurse. The pain in my wrist isn’t going to stop until it’s in a brace. Only then am I going to let myself think about the implications of breaking my dominant hand.
I have no idea how I’m going to paint.
The thought rises, unbidden, and I choke out a sob right as I reach the door to the building. Leaning against it for a moment, I take a shuddering breath, then I pull on the door, taking a deep breath as the smell of dinner hits me.
My stomach rumbles, and I realize that I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch. Turning down the hall, I walk away from the cafeteria and head for the nurse. I’ve never met her, but there has to be a nurse, right?
No school would be complete without a nurse.
Finally, I find the right room and I lean against the door, rapping on it with my good hand. When a voice calls to me, I gather all of my strength and push though the door, blinking in the bright light.
“My dear, are you hurt?” A heavyset woman I’ve never seen before rises from behind a desk and sweeps over to me. She has on a long skirt and her hair is piled up on the back of her head in a bun. Using my left hand as support, I hold out my hand for her to see.
“It’s broken,” I manage, trying to keep from crying. I’d managed to hold it together pretty well, but the look of compassion on her face is enough to make anyone break down. “Can you help me?”
She tsks and lightly touches my wrist, which makes me jerk back in pain. “Looks like a clean break, so that’s good, but I’m still going to do an x-ray and then we’ll get you in a splint. The swelling is severe, though. How long ago did you fall?”
How did she know that I fell? The thought sweeps through my mind, but I ignore it. It has to be obvious that I fell. I’m covered with dirt and have a broken wrist, so there aren’t too many other things that could have happened to me.
“It’s been, uh, a few hours,” I tell her, starting to feel guilty. “I came as quickly as I could, though.”
“I see.” Without another word, she grabs me by my good hand and pulls me along behind her to a back room. There she takes a fast x-ray and is looking at it by the time I meet her in the front.
“Is it going to be okay?” I can’t hide the worry in my voice and she catches it, looking up sharply at me before answering.
“It’s painful, but clean. I think that you’ll be just fine with a splint on, but you won’t have use of that hand for a while, so you need to prepare for that. What are you here studying?” She starts digging through a drawer while talking to me, and turns around holding a splint.
“Painting. This is my dominant hand,” I explain. “Do you think that I’m going to be able to continue to paint?”
She clucks her tongue and fits me with the splint, ignoring my gasps of pain. Once I’m strapped in and the splint is tight on my wrist, she steps back to look at me. “I think that you’re in a for a world of hurt, Abigail.”
Did I tell her my name? I must have, but I just don’t remember.
“What do you mean by that? How long will it take for my wrist to heal?” I need to heal as quickly as possible if I’m going to be able to finish a great painting that will really set me apart from the competition and put me in the running for the internship.
“It’ll heal, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” Her fingers, which before were gentle and barely resting on my skin, now dig
