Chapter 13 - The Fall
1168 Words
Third-Person Limited – Kendra, then Dominic, then Kendra
By the time Friday rolled around, Kendra had almost convinced herself things were… fine.
Not perfect. Not great. But survivable.
A whole week with no slime, no new posts calling her a whale, no cafeteria showdowns. Teachers had started treating her less like a walking incident report and more like an actual student. Her friends were doing okay. She knew where all her classes were without checking the map.
Even Dominic had been… different.
Not nice. Let’s not get crazy.
Just… quieter. Less sharp around the edges. Fewer comments. More watching.
Which was still annoying, but at least watching didn’t leave bruises.
Now school is almost over for the day. The last class was done, and the courtyard between buildings buzzed with that Friday-afternoon energy—kids laughing, shouting, planning weekend trips and parties.
Kendra walked with her friends toward the main steps that led down to the lower courtyard and then the parking lot.
“So, Sofia said she might take us to that big supermarket this weekend,” Erica said. “The one with the aisle for Caribbean stuff.”
“Mi ready,” Kendra said. “If I see one bag of the curry I like, I might cry.”
“I want cheese things,” Alrreah said. “The real ones. Not these bland, fake things they sell here.”
“You guys and your snacks,” Jennie said fondly.
Kendra smiled, just a little.
The steps ahead were clogged with people—some sitting on the wide stone edges, some standing in clusters, some moving slowly down. The late sun warmed her face. A breeze tugged at her hair.
For a moment, it almost felt like a normal school.
“Let’s cut down the left side,” Jeah said, pointing. “It’s less crowded.”
They shifted in that direction.
Kendra dug in her bag with one hand, fishing for her phone. She wanted to text Sofia and ask what time she’d be at the gate.
“Hey. Kendra!”
She heard his voice before she saw him.
Her shoulders tensed. She didn’t turn.
“Keep walking,” she muttered under her breath.
“Kendra, wait a second!” Dominic called again, closer now.
“Nope,” she said, mostly to herself.
She stepped down onto the first wide stone step, still rummaging in her bag without really looking.
Her friends glanced back.
“Just ignore him,” Erica said. “We’re almost out.”
“Kendra,” he said again, right behind her now. “We need to talk.”
“We don’t need to do anything,” she snapped, finally glancing over her shoulder. “We’ve already talked enough.”
Her eyes met his for a second.
He looked… serious. Not smirking. Not mocking. Just intense. It made something in her chest fidget.
“Can it wait till never?” she added.
She turned away again, stepping down to the next level, weaving around a group of kids sitting on the edge.
He followed.
“Kendra, will you just stop for a second?” he said, frustration creeping into his voice.
The crowd shifted at the same time—a couple pushing past on her right, someone backing up on her left. The space felt narrower, louder, more crowded.
Her fingers finally brushed her phone. She curled them around it.
“I’m done talking to you,” she threw over her shoulder. “You don’t get to play ‘concerned citizen’ after everything you said—”
“Kendra, I’m trying to—”
She picked up her pace, trying to get off the stairs and onto flat ground. The surrounding noise swelled: laughter, calls, a shouted “Pass the ball!” from somewhere lower down.
Behind her, his patience snapped.
“Will you just—”
His hand closed around her right hand, fingers wrapping over hers where they’d just snagged her phone.
He wasn’t trying to hurt her.
He was just trying to stop her.
But momentum had other plans.
She yanked instinctively, half-turning toward him. The motion spun her more than she expected. Her foot landed on the edge of the steps instead of the center—half on stone, half in the air.
The world tipped.
Her stomach dropped.
For a heartbeat, she hung there—off-balance, arms flailing, eyes wide.
Then gravity grabbed her.
She dropped.
Her body twisted as she fell, instincts kicking in faster than thought. She threw both hands out in front of her, palms down, to catch herself on the stone.
Bad idea.
The impact was brutal.
There was a sharp, sickening c***k—maybe two, maybe four. Pain exploded up both arms, white and blinding, ripping a sound from her throat she didn’t recognize.
For a second, there was no courtyard.
No stairs.
No noise.
Just pain.
Searing, crushing, burning up her forearms and into her shoulders. Her wrists screamed, bent under her in angles that felt wrong, wrong, wrong.
Her phone skittered across the stone. Her knees hit hard a moment later, but she barely felt it.
Someone gasped.
Someone else shouted, “Holy s**t, did you see that?!”
Everything blurred around the edges.
She tried to push herself up.
Her hands didn’t move.
Neither did her wrists.
The attempt sent another spike of agony through her that stole her breath.
Tears stung her eyes, unbidden.
No, no, no, nononono—
“Kendra!”
His voice again, right next to her now.
Hands hovered—close to her shoulders, her back—then pulled back like he was afraid to touch her.
She sucked in a ragged breath, blinking hard.
The stone in front of her eyes sharpened again. Her fingers lay twisted on it, useless. Her wrists…
She couldn’t even look.
“Don’t move,” Dominic said, voice tight, shaken. “Just—don’t move.”
She forced her head up enough to glare at him.
“You—” Her throat scratched over the word. “You i***t. Let go of me means… let. Go!”
Her voice broke on the last word.
He flinched as she’d hit him.
People were crowding around now, forming a loose circle. Some stared. Some backed away. A few looked pale.
“Someone get a teacher!” a girl shouted. “Go get the nurse!”
“I think her arms—”
“Oh my God, is that bone—”
Kendra squeezed her eyes shut.
The pain crashed over her in waves, making her feel sick and weightless at the same time. Her fingers tingled, then went numb, then throbbed so hard she thought she might throw up.
She felt more than she saw someone kneel on her other side.
She recognized Sofia’s voice, thin with panic. “Move, move—give her space, please!”
Kendra tried to laugh. It came out as a choked hiss.
“I’m… fine,” she gasped automatically.
No one believed her.
Not even herself.
- Writer
