Mina

Not My Problem

I stepped out in the hallway, saying goodbye to a girl in my class that everyone called Birdie. I wouldn't say we were friends, but she wasn't obnoxious like the rest of the kids in class and she must have thought the same of me because we always chose to sit by one another and partnering when the occasion arose. She was nice and smart but we had nothing in common. It had been clear when she asked me if I had heard about some basketball celebrity breaking his ankle in a game. Apparently it had been gruesome and everyone was talking about it. Everyone but me.

I shifted my books in my hand as I heard my name being shouted through the hallway. The only person that ever shouted my name was Max. And low and behold he emerged through the mass a moment later, breathless and urgent.

"What's wrong?" I asked, not at all concerned with his dramatic behavior.

"I was trying to get to you fast." He blurted as he gulped air.

I rolled my eyes. "Job well done. What can I do for you?"

"I think Owen needs help."

I snorted through my nose. "I could have told you that. But you know Max, you can't fix self centered...."

"No, like I think he's having problems. Like pain." He was still trying to steady his breathing as we walked beside each other. "He kept blurting cuss words all through class and then he asked Cho if he could leave and he looked like really fucking miserable Mina."

I didn't care.

If it was anyone else, maybe.

But not Owen Savas.

"He's probably fine." I said, though I could hear that voice in the back of my mind telling me I should be a decent person and check on him.

I hated that voice sometimes.

"Come on Mina. You're supposed to help him. That's your job." He pushed.

I looked over at Max, with his big brown eyes and his eyebrows raised and the pout on his face. It made me want to slap him.

I shook my head, grumbling. "Fine."

"Thank you!" Max's wet lips landed on my cheek a moment later. "You're awesome. But seriously he needs you."

I still didn't understand why Max was so desperate to make Owen like him. It wasn't like being in Owen's good graces was the key to life. Popularity as a whole was bullshit. Once we left this stupid building it wouldn't matter anymore.

But there I was, stepping around someone as I came up behind Owen and said "Scale of one to ten."

He didn't even think about it, responding with "Try 11."

"That bad?" I asked, falling into step beside him just as he shouted the word "Fuck" into the hallway.

If he was having that much pain he shouldn't be here. He should be somewhere he didn't have to be confined to his chair, stuck in the same position for hours upon hours.

"Why didn't you stay home?" I scolded him, a very small part of me felt bad. "Want me to push?"

A very, very small part. Like minuscule.

"Please. And my dad's an asshole."

I headed for the nurse's office. Even on the off chance Mrs. Halloway was in there, she wouldn't care. She was one of the few people at school, her and Mrs. Peterson, who had an idea of my life. She was always quick to let me sleep my lunch away if I hadn't gotten much at night.

I pushed Owen through the crowd headed for lunch, a handful of people staring at the two of us. I'm sure they probably wondered who I was and why I was with the king of the school. What made me worthy?