Newest Novel Idea: Part 5

Eventually I had to make my way back to the campus for my institute class.  I was taking Doctrine and Covenants this semester.  I was seriously thinking of skipping, when an overwhelming sense of duty overcame.

            I walked up the sidewalk towards the LDS Institute of Religion building, stepping over the obvious ice-patches.  I made it all the way up to the front doors before I found some black ice.  It is a well-known fact that I am one of the clumsier people, so naturally, I lost my balance and slid forward.  My forehead banged against door handle and I landed hard on my butt.  Rewards for doing the right thing, I suppose.

            A group of students that had been talking in the game room heard my fail and came to see if  was okay.

            “I’m fine,” I said, “Promise.” I got to my knees and looked up.  I found myself eyelevel with my own blood smeared across the door.

            “Kymber!?” I heard someone call out as if from under water as I faded from consciousness.

            I was out less than a minute and immediately tried convincing those around me that I was perfectly fine.

            “I just didn’t know blood made me queasy, I guess, now I do.  Everything’s good.  I’m just going to clean up now.”

            I walked down the hall to the ladies room where I soaked a wad of paper towels in the sink.  Then I pressed the dripping glob to my forehead with my left hand without looking in the mirror.  I was about to leave when I remembered the blood on the front door.  I grabbed another handful of paper towels with my right hand and then back to the foyer.

            Someone had beat me to cleaning up.  Standing only an arm’s length away was one of the cutest boys I had ever seen.  He had thick, dark, curly hair; he also wore glasses.  He was about 6 inches taller than me and average size, perhaps slightly chubby.  I froze.

            “Um . . . I was going to clean that up . . .”

            He turned and I saw his charming smile turn into a face of concern.  “Is this yours?” He asked referring to the blood. I nodded. “Are you okay?” Again I nodded.

            He put the rag he was holding in a bucket next to his feet.  I wondered where he had found cleaning supplies so fast, but then remember that the custodial closets were always left opened since the members were in charge of keeping the building clean.  The handsome stranger held out his hand to me.  I shook his hand, absent mindedly transferring the wad of paper towels from my hand to his.

            “Greg,” He introduced himself.

            “Kymber.”

            “Nice to meet you,” he hesitated before asking, “Can I see it?”

            “What?” Then I remembered where I was and what was going on. “Oh, this!” I said stupidly as I removed the dripping glob of paper from my face.  It had turned slightly orange.

            “We’re going to put a band-aid on that immediately, I’m afraid,” he said mock-seriously.  Then he took off the backpack he was wearing and started shuffling though it.  He pulled out what looked like a home-made draw-string bag, complete with a glitter red-cross.  He lost a few manly-points for that.  He must have seen me eyeing the glitter because he said, “I’m such a klutz, so my sister-in-law made me this portable first aid kit, my 4 year-old niece helped.  She picked out the band-aids too, so I’m not sure what you’ll get.”

            “That’s fine,” I said, giggly stupidly.

            He used the dry paper towels I had given him to dry my wound.  Then he put Neosporin on a q-tip and gently tickled my sore forehead.  Then it was time for applying the bandage.  He pulled one out at random and opened it slowly. “And the winner is . . .” he teased as he pulled the wrapper off, revealing a blue monkey band-aid, “Dora the Explorer!  You’re going to have a Boots print on your head.” I laughed at his lame pun; it didn’t matter what he said as long as he just kept talking.

Go Back