“I want you to join my team.”
It took me a good minute to process what she had just said before my face almost instantly started burning. She noticed me… and she knows my name! I thought, internally squealing with excitement as my eyes visibly sparkled. Maybe… maybe I wasn’t so invisible after all.
Before I let my daydreams get to my head, I quickly ran over to Beatrice, returning the smile she gave me with much more joy and enthusiasm. Yet, honestly, at the moment, I couldn’t even think straight and wasn’t able to stop screaming inside. Then, it came to me.
She was probably just being her usual kind-hearted self; nothing special about that. My jaw tensed, and I clenched my fists at the thought. Was that all it was? I pondered. Beatrice only picked me to seem nice? I attempted to convince myself otherwise, but it all made sense. Beatrice was considered perfect in pretty much everyone's eyes. Given that, it wouldn’t be surprising that she would treat me with fake kindness in front of the class, especially since she has a reputation to keep up. How could I be such an idiot? To think someone like Beatrice would ever actually look my way is just foolish. I can’t believe I let my thoughts run ahead of myself. What is wrong with me?
By the time both Kyle and Beatrice were done putting together their groups for the game, and both teams began to try and eliminate the other team’s players, I was sure my thoughts had already done enough damage and likely triggered another depressive episode. Great, just what I needed on a regular, boring Tuesday. I haven’t even gotten halfway through the week, and I’ve already had three separate episodes. I guess I better start taking those antidepressants my doctor prescribed, if I can even remember where I last placed them. I suppressed a groan as I considered the places where I could’ve left them. The medication could honestly be anywhere at home since I typically have a difficult time remembering where I put things. Plus, it doesn’t help that usually when I bring something home, I’ll put it down in some random spot and then let myself collapse on the soft, pillowy couch. However, despite my uncertainty, I was able to come up with two possible rooms that the antidepressants are most likely in. Either a) my bedroom (probably on my nightstand or some place on my shelving unit), or b) my bathroom (in a cabinet or next to my hair products, which I pretty much never really feel like using). I suppose I’ll have to check later, once school’s done for the day, unless the nurse keeps some in her office. Surely Mrs. Martinez would have the correct antidepressants I need, right? I mean, aren’t school nurses supposed to have students’ prescribed medication? Look, maybe I might not have included that part of my medical papers when I gave them to her, but she has to have some type of antidepressants in there, cause if she doesn’t, then I’m screwed for the rest of the school day. Well, for my art club after school today anyway, since gym is my last period of the actual school day.
Celestial Academy’s art club was the only extracurricular I participated in due to the fact that I’ve never really enjoyed doing anything else besides art. Sure, experimenting with other hobbies is fun once in a while, but drawing and doodling have been the one activity that stuck with me for most of my life. Probably because art, even though it can be grand or meaningful, doesn’t always have to be. Plus, art pieces can be constantly admired and viewed, giving people the time and chance to fully understand what goes into different kinds of artistic works. Now that I actually think about it, Beatrice is sort of like a piece of art: she’s beautiful and is often admired. Yet, she never seems to let anyone be close friends with her. Well, while Beatrice does have plenty of regular friends and fans, I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen her have a full-on conversation with anybody besides Brooke, but that’s different. After all, the majority of their conversations are basically just about student council meetings and schoolwork. The kind of conversations I’m talking about involve discussing interests or making inside jokes with a friend or someone you like. Sure, maybe being loved by over half of the academy is delightful, but sometimes I wonder if Beatrice gets lonely because of that.
Then, suddenly, someone yelled, “WATCH OUT!” causing me to put my concerns aside for a moment as I looked directly forward, realizing that a ball was racing toward me, aimed directly at my face.
I kept telling my body to move, but it wouldn’t budge. Of course, the one time I have to duck, I freeze up. However, just as I was sure I was about to get hit, I saw a blur of navy blue, peach-brown, and green speed towards me before it crashed into me, causing me to hit the gym floor. Thankfully, though, whatever student rammed into me placed one of their hands behind my head before I met the ground, preventing any serious brain injuries.
I quickly looked up, trying to see who had stopped a fastball from ambushing me. Turns out, the person who was currently on top of me with a concerned expression on their face, absent of their usual smile, was none other than Beatrice Swan. Once she noticed my blushy face – which she likely thought meant that I was uncomfortable even though I really wasn’t – she immediately got off of me and profusely apologized.
“I’m so sorry! I had no intention of knocking you over; I was just trying to make sure you didn’t get hit by the ball! Please forgive me, Bernadette.”
I offered her a smile to reassure her that it really wasn’t a big deal. “Aw, of course! And trust me, it wasn’t that bad. You were just trying to be helpful, that’s all. I… I actually appreciate it a lot. So don’t apologize so much, okay?”
Beatrice stared at me for several seconds before swiftly nodding her head. “But… would you let me please take you to the nurse’s office? Just for you to get checked up. It’ll only take a minute, I swear.”
“What about your dodgeball team? They’re counting on you, you know.”
She glances at the floor before looking into my eyes. “Maybe that’s true, but my top priority right now is to make sure you’re okay. After all, it’s my fault that you got hurt, meaning that I have to be the one to clean up this mess.” Then she broke out into a light jog whilst running past me, but not before grabbing one of my wrists and practically dragging me across the hall. “So… let’s go!”
By the time the two of us reached the nurse’s office, unlike Beatrice, I was completely out of breath. Not being active athletically really is the worst when you’re surrounded by so many classmates who are a part of sports teams.
While we waited – and I caught my breath –  in the waiting room for Mrs. Martinez, I took a good look at the room’s environment. Differently from the rest of the school, the nurse’s office had light-blue colored walls rather than the typical ebony or light-gray that I was used to. The vinyl floor was also unusual compared to the rest of the academy, with its chevron floor pattern and soft greige (a mix of beige and gray) color. I guess the room’s uniqueness still surprises me because I typically don’t go to the nurse’s office. Given that, I began to consider reasons why this room is so different from the rest of the academy. I tried to recall anything I had learned that would have to do with how colors and/or patterns were relevant in medical places, which is when I remembered that my health teacher – Ms. Randolf – one time showed the class a study on healthcare design that pretty much explained how certain colors calm people down, or something like that. Yeah, let’s just say I may or may not have sort of slept through most of that class… but so did a lot of other people too! Therefore, I can’t be the only one to blame. I started to quietly pout to myself at the thought, coincidentally right before Mrs. Martinez entered the waiting room.
She gave Beatrice and me a polite smile before saying, “I appreciate your patience. May you both please follow me?”
The two of us nodded our heads before standing up and following Mrs. Martinez’s lead. She ended up bringing us to a specific area within her office that had a sink with a silver colored bucket next to it that contained what I assumed was ice. The nurse then grabbed the roll of paper towels sitting next to the faucet, placed a few ice cubes in it, and then closed it up, making a small-sized ice pack. A part of me was both impressed and jealous of how she organized everything so well, allowing her to grab whatever she needed with ease.
After fully finishing what I like to call the DIY ice pack, Mrs. Martinez handed it to Beatrice, who quickly thanked her for her time.
“Alright girls, if you need anything more, let me know.”
Beatrice smiled, saying a soft “Will do!” in response as the nurse walked away, probably heading back to the waiting room to see if any other injured students showed up.
“Okay,” Beatrice started. “Do you know where you got hurt, or at least, do you have a general idea of where?”
“Yup! I’d say in my calf area. Maybe more around the side of it?” I reply, shifting my left leg – the injured one – so that Beatrice has better access to it.
She then kneels beside my calf and begins to press the ice pack against the currently forming bruise on my leg. I attempt to read her expression, but it’s completely blank, like she’s thinking about something deeply.
I debated asking about it, but she opened her mouth and started talking before I could. “Alright. So, um, I was wondering if you could do me a favor, Bernadette. If you wouldn’t mind, of course.”
I tilt my head slightly, the expression on my face curious and somewhat puzzled, basically signaling Beatrice to continue speaking since she’s got my full attention now.
“W-well…” Beatrice mutters, which I think is the first time I’ve heard her stutter before. I guess I never thought girls who were as perfect as her ever could. “As you know, prom is quite soon, meaning that the number of confessions I’ve been getting has definitely increased. Given that, I was hoping you’d be willing to be my fake prom date. It’s just a temporary thing, of course, and you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But it would really mean a lot to me if you could help me out here…”
My eyes lit up at her request. I just couldn’t believe it. Beatrice Swan was asking me to be her date to prom! Sure, it’ll only be pretend to ward off any persistent admirers (like Kyle) from continuously professing their love for Beatrice, but this is an opportunity I could never reject, even if it is fake. Besides, maybe I’ll be able to grow closer with her!
“Of course,” I exclaim excitedly. “I’d love to help you!” she smiled back, and then we both ended up bursting out laughing because of how cringey my response to her question was.
Maybe Beatrice Swan – Celestial Academy’s “Little Miss Perfect” – isn’t so unobtainable after all.

 

 

See the full issue: https://www.flipsnack.com/FB89CC87C6F/city-kidz-world-magazine-volume-16-issue-50