Hello, Marcel. (Redone)

This is the story of Marcel Styles and Gracie Shields. However, it is redone from my former story. If you want to read the original (it's unfinished, and I feel pretty bad for that), it'll be with my other stories. Enjoy!


4. Chapter 4

Marcel's P.O.V


"How could you have let this happen to you, Marcel?" my mother yelled.

"I was just trying to get to Calculus, and Corbin stopped me. Next thing I knew, a crowd appeared and was chanting him on. Then I was hit," I said, staring out the car window.

"Corbin? Corbin Smith?! Really Marcel, again with this boy?"

"Mom, it's alright. He's suspended now."

"That's exactly what they said last time!" she said, raising her voice. I knew she would be upset. I'm just waiting for when she'll yell at me for not sticking up for myself, or when she tells me she's moving me to another school to try and stop the bullying. But I know it won't stop. Every tough guy wants to pick on the scrawny, nerdy little kid. It has happened at every school I have moved to -- 4 schools, to be exact. It's getting tiring, moving every time something bad happens to me. But, I guess you can't really blame my mom, either. I'm an only child, and my dad left us when I was only a few months old. It's been a rough ride for her, and I understand that she wants the best for me. It just takes a toll on me going from place to place all the time.

"Are you at least feeling ok right now?"

"I'm ok, mom. Just sore."

"I'm going to take you to Urgent Care just to get you checked out," she said, looking ahead. You could see the worry in her eyes. The rest of the car ride was silent, with me just listening to the tires on the road. I was actually thinking about Gracie. She really was beautiful, you can't deny that. She was also very nice to me, helping me with whatever I needed. I wonder if she's thinking about me, too?




Gracie's P.O.V


Marcel just left, which meant I had to go to second period. I had missed first, which was okay with me. I hated chemistry, it made little to no sense to me. I really enjoy second period, though. It's World History, and I have one of the best teachers teaching it. As I entered the high school, I realized that I had no idea where my books went. I must've thrown them or laid them down in the hallway when I left. But, there wasn't really anything in the spot where the fight happened. Well, except for the janitor cleaning a little bit or Marcel's and Corbin's blood. I wonder how Marcel's doing right now? Maybe he's almost to Urgent Care, then he'll know what damage Corbin did to him. I grabbed my other book and binder, then went on to class.

I walked into the classroom, and all eyes were immediately on me. I put my head down and walked to Mr. Thompson's desk.

"Miss Shields, you have missed half of our class."

"I know, Mr. Thompson. I was helping a classmate that had gotten hurt earlier. Here's a note from the nurse," I said, handing him the note. He quickly looked over it, and nodded his head.

"I heard about Marcel. He got hit pretty hard. How's he doing?" he asked, putting the note away. I could feel the entire class staring me down, waiting to hear Marcel's fate. I softly cleared my throat.

"The nurse said he should be okay, just some bruises, really." The entire class sighed, some in relief, and some that sounded more like a scoff. Some of the more popular girls were whispering to each other.

"However, he is on his way to Urgent Care right now to get checked for a possible concussion."

Everyone perked up to listen again. I could feel their eyes on the back of my head. Mr. Thompson nodded his head again, which was my signal to go an sit down. The lesson was started up again, and the whole class became dead silent. Except when my phone went off. I guess I had forgotten to turn my sound off. Mr. Thompson turned around, looking at me.

"Miss Shields, was that your phone?"

"Yes," I said looking down. It was from Marcel, so he must've found out something.

"Please turn the sound down and put your phone on my desk. I can't have my students distracted."

Well, there goes my chance to find out if Marcel has found out anything or not. After I put my phone on Mr. Thompson's desk, I turned around to the class snickering. I quickly returned to my desk, and went back to writing notes. But my mind couldn't stop going back to Marcel. I wonder if he's thought about me as much as I've thought about him?

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