Villains to Heroes: A Death By Hail

The sky looked cloudy, but this was Oregon, what else was new? I could wait for him here.

He would probably show up any minute now. I looked back at campus one more time, but still no sign of him. Watch this be the one day he didn’t show up, when I finally got up the courage to talk to him.

No, he had to come today. It had to be today. I couldn’t get up the courage another day. I looked back at the door again.

There he was. Tall, lean and muscular. That look that jocks always have in movies. I didn’t think people actually looked like that in real life. Not until the first time I saw him. He started climbing the stairs and I shivered, even though I was wearing a thick coat. I couldn’t see him, couldn’t think about him without It coming to mind.

He stopped at the same picnic table he always ate at, the one with a pole but no umbrella. Any shade this area may have had probably was torn up the same year the school was built. Or maybe administration had decided we didn’t need to block out the sun. It never showed up anyway.

The sky rumbled and thick drops starting falling here and there, creating dark splotches on the cement steps. I hadn’t pictured having this conversation in the rain. 

I shivered again as I drew near to him. I opened my mouth but it was dry. Still, he turned, probably sensing eyes on him, though it can’t have been a new experience for someone who looked like him. He raised one eyebrow at me in a smirk.

“What?” he said.

“I . . .”

My throat was sticking. I felt cold and queasy and like I wanted to run away. The rain was getting thicker, and people were holding binders over their heads as they ran back down the steps and into the school.

Tell him. My inner braver, self urged. He should be held responsible.

He looked up at the sky and grimaced. A pellet of ice hit his face and he winced. He didn’t look as pretty when he was in pain.

He rolled his eyes and pulled up his hood.

“Whatever,” he shrugged and started towards the steps.

It was too late, I hadn’t said anything. Really what could I have said? Would it have made a difference? Would it change what he had done to me?

“Wait!” I shouted, and I ran after him. The hail was falling thickly now, bouncing on the football field and sliding across the cement. He heard me anyways, and turned, soon enough to see my foot slide over a stair coated in hail and fall backwards.

He reached for me, involuntarily. I guess even guys like him have hero reflexes sometime, but it didn’t matter. My head hit the cement with a crack. I stared up at the hail. It pelted my motionless face, and then his face was there, beautiful but growing fuzzier.

The last thing I see will be my attacker’s eyes, I thought. But this time he’s pretending to save me.

And then the world went dark.