A quick sketch story by Julie Prescesky
Okay, yes, that wasn’t the best move. Leena dusted off her pant legs and tried to will away the hotness in her cheeks. It’s not like anybody was looking, nobody ever did. Her finger caught in a large hole at her knee. Great.
Lena was 15 and still with the hand-eye coordination of a 3 year old. She rolled her eyes. It was her signature move – the clumsiness, yes, but more the rolling of the eyeballs.
“You okay?” A voice came from above her. Not, like, from the heavens, but from about 6 foot 2.
Leena froze her gaze on the sidewalk then jerked her head up to see Roman Numerals standing next to her peering at her scraped knee. Okay, Roman Agnellutti, but really the football team started calling him Roman Numerals after his first game when he scored three touchdowns, and followed up in the next game with another three, writing his name like Roman III.
“Uhuh.” Leena straightened and brushed the hair from her face with the fullness of her palm. She opened her lips to say more, because normal human conversation dictated that she should have more to say, but she couldn’t think of anything so she stood there with her mouth hanging open.
Roman looked uncomfortable. Oh god. Leena was the worst person to try and help. She was a walking catastrophe and so awkward at looking people in the eye, and heaven help her, expressing gratitude was like coaxing a baby calf to walk for the first time.
She stared, wide-eyed and lips pressed together, straight ahead, which happened to be right at Roman’s chest.
“Okay, well …” He shifted in place. “I’m sure the nurse has something to fix that up.”
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“The hole in my pants?” Leena blurted out, confused.
“Uh, no.” Roman seemed confused too. “I’m assuming there’s a hole in your knee, too. On account of all of the blood.”
Leena looked down. “Oh!” Her face paled. “Right.” Her stupidity dawned on her and she went from pale back to crimson.
“You sure you don’t need any help?” Roman’s voiced strained.
Leena forced herself to look up at him. He actually looked concerned. “Erm, just a scraped knee.” She said. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got this.”
He gave a quick nod, pivoted on his feet and ran to catch up with his friends who were already on the field tossing the ball.
Leena watched him jog away. Roman Numerals. He noticed her. Maybe her clumsiness was a covert superpower that towering football stars couldn’t resist. But why all of a sudden? She’s always been clumsy, and, until now, she’d been very much left to her own devices. She looked down at her chest. Her breasts were developing at an alarmingly slow rate, in fact, she wondered if they got confused about the difference between convex and concave. Surely they didn’t have anything to do with this.
She stood, hands on hips, and looked in the direction Roman ran. She was too deep in her own head to notice that he was staring back at her and when she came into focus on him, he looked away.