Chapter 3

Afternoons in the final year of high school felt especially long. The track and field lesson dragged into high noon.

The rubber‑surfaced track field turned into a giant sauna under the sweltering heat. After we completed the yard-long run, many of my classmates collapsed in the shade of the trees from exhaustion.

I twisted off the cap of a plastic water bottle and stood next to the furthest pole. While my eyes turned to the school building in the distance, I never stopped watching that figure that lingered at the finishing line.

Mandy was off today. She was usually one of the fastest runners in our class, but she had slowed down significantly after the fifth round, as though her legs were filled with lead. She kept swaying on her feet.

The moment she crossed the finish line and the gym teacher hit the stopwatch, her body suddenly trembled and collapsed onto the burning-hot latex without a sound.

“Someone fainted!”

“Mandy? Are you alright? Don’t scare me!”

Chaos erupted around the finishing line. Some girls surrounded her, shouting, but no one could actually lift her.

My mind went blank when I saw her fall. My self-contempt for the past three years and my fear of getting close instantly vanished.

By the time I came back to my senses, I had already forcefully pushed through the crowd and rushed to the very front. I crouched down wordlessly and pulled the pale Mandy onto my back. The moment her skin touched mine, I was startled by how hot her body was.

Listening to the weak breathing against my back, I turned to the stunned gym teacher and shouted, “I’m sending her to the infirmary!” After that, I carried her in a mad sprint toward the school building.

Her body was light as a feather back in high school, so light that my heart ached for her.

I clenched my teeth and held her up with all my strength, the sweat pouring down my face onto the concrete. It felt like forever those couple of yards.

“Doctor, please check on her! She fainted!” I kicked down the old wooden door to the infirmary, giving the school doctor a shock.

He set aside the newspaper he was reading and hurriedly instructed me to put Mandy on the most stable bed. He then checked under her eyelids, measured her blood pressure, and let out a sigh of relief.

“It’s nothing too serious. She got severe heatstroke from the hot weather, and it’s made worse by her low blood sugar and chronic malnutrition. Grab an ice pack from the back, and I’ll give her a glucose drip.

“You ran fast, kid, seeing as you’re panting like a dog. Rest here for now, and call me when the drip runs out.”

The doctor drew the curtain behind him, and a silence fell over the small infirmary. The only sound remaining was the drip of the IV.

I sat down on the plastic chair next to the bed, my chest heaving with my heavy breathing. My gaze was trained on Mandy’s face as it slowly regained some color from the medicine.

After about twenty minutes, Mandy’s lashes trembled violently, and she slowly opened her dazed eyes. She turned to see me, drenched in sweat and looking like a mess. Her gaze was confused, and then self-deprecating as she smirked without humor.

Her voice was barely audible. “It’s you… You helped me again, Zach.”

“The gym monitor was too far away at the time. I just happened to be nearby, so I may as well help you out.” I instinctively looked away, staring at the medicine cabinet in the corner as I spouted a lie even I did not believe.

Mandy stared at the half-empty bottle of glucose hanging above her head and was silent for a long time. Just as I thought she was falling asleep again, she suddenly turned to stare at me unblinkingly, her voice soft. “Zach, do you… really hate me?”

“What?” I looked at her, my heart jolting painfully.

“Because you keep avoiding me in class. When I try to talk to you or thank you, you storm away without even looking at me. But if you hate me so much, why did you give me the notebook yesterday… and save me so desperately today?”

Her voice was quiet, but I could hear the long-suppressed hurt within. As she spoke, a tear rolled down her cheek without warning, staining the white pillowcase.

My hands clenched into fists on my knees, my nails digging into my palm. When I looked at her exhausted, frail, and confused face, I felt like there was something stuck in my throat, choking me.

‘I don’t hate you,’ I thought to myself. ‘I like you. I like you so much that I feel useless and unworthy. I’m scared that just taking another look at you would make my love spill forth unbidden for the whole world to see.’