Chapter 3

Upon hearing this, Mr. Poole gently tried to persuade Dad.

"Mr. Bradshaw, blood donation should be voluntary. If your son really doesn't want to do it, just let him be."

With that, he turned and left.

Dad glanced down at my body, the rage burning in his chest flaring even hotter.

"Still won't get up, huh? Fine, you can just lie there on the floor while the blood is drawn. Ms. Ritter, go ahead and draw his blood. When it's done, ignore him. If he wants to lie there, let him. Don't let him hold up the other students waiting in line."

After saying this, Dad refused to spare me another glance and walked away without looking back.

Ms. Ritter picked up the needle and the blood bag. Then, she jammed it ruthlessly into my vein and didn't stop until a full 400 milliliters had been drawn.

When it was over, she kicked me and said, "Get up. There's no point in pretending after all the blood's been drawn. Besides, Mr. Bradshaw isn't even here anymore, so there's no audience left for your little act."

Seeing that I still didn't move, Ms. Ritter let out a scoff and shouted toward the blood donation line behind her.

"Can I get two strong guys to carry this selfish brat outside? We don't need him holding up the line in here."

I floated in mid-air, watching as I was tossed onto the sidewalk, a bitter ache swelling inside me.

Two hours later, all the students had finished donating blood.

A classmate rubbing his arm glanced somewhat sympathetically in my direction.

"Given how frail Ronnie is, won't something happen to him if he just lies out there baking in the sun like that?"

Ms. Ritter, who happened to be passing by with the blood donation records in hand, rolled her eyes disdainfully.

"You there, I know you mean well, but he's completely faking it. You'd better stay away from him. Be careful he doesn't try to scam you into paying his medical bills. I've seen plenty of cases like this."

A student who had witnessed the entire incident just moments ago also chimed in.

"Ronnie just uses the fact that his dad is the dean to make everyone give in to him. And now he's playing dead and tarnishing our school's honor."

"Exactly. I think he's just being shameless, trying to get everyone to feel sorry for him and fawn over him again."

When the classmates who had originally been worried about me heard this, they all hurried away in disgust, afraid of getting caught up in the trouble.

After hearing those words, Ms. Ritter felt a great deal of satisfaction. With the blood donation records in hand, she turned and walked into Dad's office.

"Mr. Bradshaw, here are today's blood donation records. If there are no issues, just sign here."

Dad's furrowed brow slowly relaxed when he saw that my record showed I had donated 400 milliliters of blood.

"Why didn't Ronnie come? Didn't I also arrange for him to be your volunteer?"

Ms. Ritter lowered her head, hesitating as if she wanted to say something.

"Oh, him? I was nice enough to have someone help him up earlier, but he said he's not getting up unless you come and sweet-talk him yourself."

Dad's expression darkened instantly.

"Mr. Bradshaw, Ronnie has been lying there for quite a long time now. This can't go on like this. Why don't you just go and give in a little? At least get him up first, and we'll sort things out later."

Dad slammed the blood donation records heavily onto the desk, his voice brimming with towering rage.

"I've spoiled him far too much, and that's exactly why he's grown such a temper. If he refuses to get up, then he'd better have the nerve to just stay lying on the ground forever."