"Alex, are you okay?" Brittany asks, looking totally concerned. Should I tell her I was spacing out while thinking about us having sex? Mrs. P. walks up the aisle with a stern look on her face. "This is a library, you two. Keep it down." But then she notices the small line of blood snaking down my arm and staining my sleeve. "Brittany, help him to the nurse. Alex, next time come to school with that thing bandaged." "Don't I get sympathy, Mrs. P.? I'm bleedin' to death." "Do something to help mankind or the planet, Alex. Then you'll get my sympathy. People who get into knife fights don't earn anything from me except disgust. Now go get cleaned up." Brittany lifts my books off my lap and says in a shaky voice, "Come on." "I can hold the books," I tell her as I follow her out of the library. I'm pressing my sleeve against the wound, hoping to stop more blood from leaking out. She's walking ahead of me. If I tell her I need help walking because I feel faint, will she believe me and come to my rescue? Maybe I should stumble...although knowing her she wouldn't care. Right before we reach the nurse's office, she turns around. Her hands are shaking. "I'm so sorry, Alex. I di--didn't m--mean--" She's freaking out. If she cries, I won't know what to do. I'm not used to crying chicks. I don't think Carmen cried once during our entire relationship. In fact, I'm not sure Carmen has tear ducts." --