Meet Me After Class

Chapter 22: About Jay

The clock read 11 PM, and I collapsed onto my bed, tossing the covers over me to shut out the world. Despite my efforts to lull myself to sleep with the calming embrace of my pre-calculus textbook, I remained wide awake.

After a tiring day, all I craved was a peaceful, undisturbed sleep—no nagging thoughts about my half-done to-do list, Adam and whatever's going on with him,, and definitely no pondering on how to shake off the awkwardness around Mr. Scott.

Mr. Benjamin Scott.

He was a nice guy from the start. However, being excessively nice and good-looking gave him an air that sparked romantic excitement in women, except for me. Sure, I was a bit nervous and awkward around him, but it was far from romantic.

Right? Right?!

I tossed and turned, finally staring up at the ceiling. Why was Mr. Scott occupying so much of my thoughts suddenly? I snapped out of my silly thoughts and deliberately directed my mind elsewhere. Maybe towards someone else.

Maybe someone else.

Adam. My best friend. What was happening with him lately? His newfound interest in acting, the surprising talent he displayed, and the strange shift between us. The unusual spark, the shockwaves felt when our eyes met—though comfort and familiarity still lingered, something had changed.

Or perhaps we had both just grown over the years.

Maybe.

I shook my head again, attempting to redirect my thoughts, when my phone on the bedside table vibrated.

I opened the message. It was a message from Adam.

I'm outside. Porch. Need help.

I quickly left my bed, rushed downstairs, and quietly made my way to the front door. Everyone should be asleep, but my dad, being a light sleeper, could wake up easily at any disturbance in the house.

Why on earth had Adam come in the dead of night? What would he need my help for?

"Wendy, we need your help," Adam whispered loud enough for me to hear from the other side of the door.

We?

Slowly and quietly, I opened the main door. "Adam?"

Although the darkness had swallowed most of his features, I still recognized the outline of the same messy hair, the same grey sweater, and jeans he wore that day. And he wasn't alone.

"Hi, Wendy." Though weak, Jay's voice was too familiar not to recognize. He leaned against Adam as if trying to hold himself up.

I turned on the porch light, and I froze. My heart throbbed at the sight of Jay's beaten-down face—cuts on his upper lip and eyebrow, spots on his blue shirt that I could only guess were blood.

"What in Chuck Norris' name happened to him?" I gasped.

"I'll explain later," Adam answered.

"Why don't you take him to the hospital instead? I'm a high school student, not a nurse. Remember how I was poorly graded on that First Aid summer program we did during middle school? Remember how that dummy almost lost its leg because of me?"

Adam sighed. "He doesn't want me to take him to the hospital."

"It's quite complicated," Jay added. "But we will explain everything to you inside."

I stepped aside, feeling sorry as I watched Jay clutch onto Adam's side like his life depended on it.

"Go straight to my room," I told them. "I can't believe you actually brought him here, Adam." I shook my head in disbelief.