Delia

"Oh my god!"

"What's wrong with her?"

"What the heck just happened?"

A loud thud was followed by several shrill cries, which echoed through the now-silent cafeteria. I looked up from A Tale of Two Cities. Everyone was crowded into one big circle in the middle of the room. A bunch of kids were still sitting and chatting like nothing had happened, — the snobby cheerleaders and their football henchmen, more specifically — but I knew something was wrong. I got out of my chair and crept over to where the big crowd was. Looking around curiously, I tried to find the source of all the commotion. I don't see —

Holy ssshhh...ish kabobs.

In the center of the ruckus, flat out unconscious, laid a beautiful girl. Her long, blonde hair was strewn wildly over her face, and various books were scattered all around her. She must have passed out, I thought. My protective instincts kicked in, and I pushed through the mob, making my way to the poor girl.

"Excuse me, coming through."

I shook her shoulders. Her head bounced up and down limply. I shook her shoulders a second time. Nothing. I sighed and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I would have to try another technique — just... one I don't particularly like using. I took a deep breath. "WAKE UPPP!"

Her electric blue eyes shot open. She sat up immediately, looking around in a panic like a deer caught in headlights. Her chest went up and down in quick, sharp breaths.

"Are you okay? What happened?!" I gripped her shoulders. She swallowed. Her eyes darted back and forth.

"I... um..." she stammered, blinking spastically under the harsh florescent lights in the cafeteria. I sighed and let go of her.

"We need to get you an ice pack, right now. Does anyone have an extra?" I asked, shoving past a couple of football players that had joined into the crowd as soon as they saw me get up. Ugh. You jerks sicken me. I looked around. No one was sitting at the tables now, except for the cheerleaders — and there was no way I'd ask them for an ice pack.

I turned back and asked some other students if they had any. They shook their heads.

"I don't have one," a girl from my biology class said, shaking her head, "but there's a first aid right there. They always have ice packs." She pointed at a little box on the wall right next to the lunch line. I nodded in thanks and rushed over to the first aid, nearly ripping it open.

Nope. I fished through the sea of antiseptic ointments and band-aids in search for one of those shake-to-activate ice packs, but there was no luck. They were out of ice packs. Hooray.

I knew I couldn't go to the school nurse- the girl could have a really nasty, inflated bump on her head by then. Besides, inconveniently enough, the nurse was out on a maternity leave, and her replacement was out in the Bahamas. (Thanks for repeating that twelve times on the intercom, Vice Principal Hicks.)

Reluctantly, I realized what I had to do. Oh, I had promised myself that I wouldn't do that again, but I needed to learn. I would've gladly postponed it for later, but I knew I didn't really have many options.

I took a ziplock bag from the first aid kit and took a deep breath, readying myself for the pain. I closed my eyes and clenched my fist tightly, picturing the oh-so-familiar scene in my mind. A light, falling snow. The branches of oak and pine trees heavy with the burden of snow. The sky a bleak grey, with streaks of white running across like stripes on a zebra. My hands felt numb. I could feel sweat running down my back, even though there was a sharp breeze blowing against me. For a moment, everything felt peaceful. Then a sharp, indescribable agony pierced my fist.

The beautiful haven disappeared, fading into a darkness that dissipated back into the cafeteria. I looked down at my hand. A scar, long and pink with freshness, ran up and down the side of my wrist. Another one. It intertwined with another much-older scar, forming a ugly, squiggly line. Oh, god, she's going to think I'm cutting, I thought with a gulp. I could've told her about what I was, I could've told her about everything… but I couldn't. The secret was too important to give away. Besides, she could disown me. I didn't want to be thrown out again like I had some kind of rare, infectious disease.

I brushed off the slowly-retreating pain and unclenched my fist. Within it laid a small pack of fresh snow. As I clenched my other fist, it slowly crackled and crystalized, coming together and forming ice. Perfect, I thought, slipping the ice into the ziplock. I only hoped that no one had seen me.

However, when I returned to the public area, the blonde had disappeared as if by magic. "Humph!" I dropped the bag of ice onto a table and slumped down into the chair closest to me. "I walked through the whole campus," I muttered to myself, pouting. "Where is that girl? All that work for nothing." I sighed and dropped my head onto the table. I groaned.

"Ummmm..."

I looked up.

Shoot.

Memories flowed back, memories of running through sprinklers and trying not to catch cooties. Before I knew what had happened, I realized that a very tall, very grown-up Benny Weir was sitting across from me(Oh, so that's who that weird brunette from earlier was!), looking very puzzled with half of a ham sandwich hanging out of his mouth. He was sitting right next to...Rory.

The blond's mouth gaped. "Uhhhh..." He looked down at his Star Trek lunchbox and pushed it aside. It fell under the table with a really loud bang, and he winced.

"Heeeeeey...?" he squeaked, scratching the back of his head. I smiled and pulled out the remainder of my lunch: half a piece of cold pizza, and a jug of orange powerade. I took a small bite, still looking at the boys. They just sat there, wide-eyed, shocked that I had willingly sat with them.

"What, cat got your tongue?" I mused, sipping my yummy Powerade. No response. I sighed and put down the drink. "Well, 'kay then. Guess you guys don't want to talk with the girl that you've known since you were in preschool."

Silence. I looked down at my pizza and took another bite. I guess they really don't want to talk to me... I thought with a frown.

I looked up again. Benny had cocked his head, apparently trying to find out who the heck I was. I could practically see the little hamster turning the wheel that powered his brain.

Then he spit out his Coca-Cola, lathering the whole table with the bubbly brown beverage.

"Holy..." His eyes widened with understanding. "Delia?" I raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

He looked over at Rory in shock.

"It's really...?"

Rory nodded, a smirk forming on his lips at the fact that he had known before Benny. "Yep." He turned his big blue eyes at me, smiling a little bit. "It's really her. I know; I couldn't believe it, either, when Ethan told me."

Benny chugged down the remainder of his coke and tossed the can towards the trash can, missing a lot but not really caring. "You're hot," he commented with a deciding sigh, holding his arms behind his head. "I never thought I'd say that, but you're actually hot."

Rory glared at him. "Oh, okay, so it's fine for you to say someone's hot to their face, but when I do it, you hit me upside the head," he complained, pouting. Benny hit him upside the head — ironic, no? — and rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't the one who went up to a guy dressed up as Han Solo and called him hot," he reminded Rory, tsk-ing disapprovingly. He leaned back. "And besides, with Delia it's actually true. It's like she took a sexy pill or somethi—"

"Um, hello?" I gestured at myself widely. "Delia's still in the room." Benny shrunk back, a faint blush dusting his cheeks a rosy pink.

"Well sorr-ee," he muttered, glancing down longingly at his empty sandwich wrapper. It took me a couple minutes to realize that someone was missing.

"Where's Ethan?" I asked, searching for the shy brunet. He was nowhere to be seen.

Rory shrugged.

"I don't know. Last time I saw him, he was heading out that hallway—" he pointed dramatically towards the south wing — "with a blonde girl." He furrowed his eyebrows. "And I'm pretty sure she had a nasty bump on her head."

I wanted to punch myself for not asking sooner. All that work... all that work for nothing? Now I had one more ugly scar I would have to explain to my mom, a really nasty headache, and I didn't even get to help the girl who needed the ice. Great.

"Why, did you need to tell him something?" Benny asked, sounding slightly genuine for the first time. Then I saw that devilish twinkle in his eye, and I knew he was going to say something irritating. "Because I could pass the word along to him, for the small fee of a kiss."

"No, Benny," I muttered. "And I would never, ever kiss those lips of yours. Not even if I was about to die."

He gave me a lopsided grin.

"That's my girl," he teased, holding out a hand for a high-five. I just shook my head and looked back at the hallway Rory had gestured at.

"So they went that way, huh?" I asked him, pointing down the hall. He nodded.

"That's where I saw them g—" His eyes filled with interest. "What happened to your arm? It's all swollen and red. Did you cut yourself or something?" I looked down at my arm. My pink sweater sleeve had rolled up, exposing the fresh, baby-pink scar that had intertwined with the old one. I made a little squeak of terror and rolled the sleeve back down.

"Uhhh…" I let out a deep sigh and ran a hand through my hair, trying not to seem anxious. "C-c-curling iron. I — ahhh, I burned myself with a curling iron." Rory still didn't seem to back down.

"But…" he started. He grabbed my arm and, before I could stop him, he pulled the sleeve back up. He began to inspect my arm, and I almost wanted to punch him in the face — but I couldn't. He was just trying to help. "It doesn't seem like a burn — it's too squiggly. It seems more like you…" His eyes got darker, and it took him a couple seconds for him to practically purr, "cut yourself."

I yanked my arm away from him and gave him a weird look. "Um… okay," I said, covering up the scars again. "But I swear, it was the curling iron." Rory didn't answer, he just sat there with those unusually dark eyes trained right on my arm. It was really, really weird.

"Anyway, I have to go," I said, looking at my watch. I stood up and took my backpack — plus my empty Powerade bottle. "It was nice seeing you guys again," I admitted with a smile. Rory's eyes got back to normal. It looked like he had been in a trance.

"Oh." Then he was his normal self again, dorky and sweet. He smiled, saying, "Oh, okay. See you later, then, Delia!" I couldn't help but smile back.

I made my way past their table, ignoring the weird looks from the cheerleaders that I had sat with earlier.

"Oh! And Delia?" Benny called, making me whirl around.

"Yeah?"

He smiled cheekily. "You single?"