Mrs. Hungcut has a heart, who knew

Even the meanest and nastiest of them all, has something deep inside. They don't want to see you hurt, They don't want to see you cry.

“Step! Step! Step!”

Light footsteps echo off the rough concrete pavement in the distance.

James quickly sits up, ignoring the shooting pain all around his sore muscles. Hissing as he spins his head around, noticing she is coming closer.

"What is it?" Sam mouths.

Placing a finger on the clueless boy's lips, he silences Sam on the spot. Then, he shifts his attention back to the faint footsteps clicking aggressively toward their direction.

"Am I interrupting something here, boys?"

James and Sam nearly jump out of their skin with her cruel voice questioning their reasons for being outside. Cautiously looking up, both boys notices a somewhat chubby older lady, in her late fifties with her curly blond hair pinned back tightly at the base of her neck. She glares at them with a rather annoy expression on her face.

Sam panics, so he turns to James for some much-needed assistance on what to say. Sam gasps with seeing a glimpse of James’s body starting to shake vigorously with bullets of sweat shooting from his brow. Biting down on his bottom lip, Sam nervously rests his trembling arm alongside James’s back to comfort the wounded teen. His eyes widen in terror as he stares at James's skin growing paler with his breath growing shorter and quicker. He chokes on his tears, feeling James's body going limp under his grip. Sam cautiously stares at James, making sure his breathing didn't stop, sighing with a sigh of relief as he can see James's chest rising up and down faintly.

Brushing his fingertips gently against James's brow, "You are on fire," Sam whispers. Trying to unlatch James's bleeding fingers from his loose button-down shirt, he notices he is muttering something under his breath. Moving closer to hear, Sam didn't forget who is still staring at them, shrugging his shoulder as he tries to ignore the unwanted company. while keeping his full attention on the weak teen in his arms.

"Jamey honey?" Sam tries fanatically to get his lover to pay attention to his face. James's eyes remain close. "Call 911!" Sam screams, coldly staring at the teacher. "Why are you just standing there? Do it now!"

"Mister!" she gasps, quickly leaving through the front door to make a call.

James struggles to wiggle from Sam's tight grip. He tries to pry his heavy eyelids open. Water droplets splashing on his face one by one.

"Sammy, don't make it rain. It's too cold for rain. You don't want to make it snow." James weakly grins. He coughs harshly with his throat burning intensely after each word he manages to whimper.

"No," Sam sobs, "but it's still painful seeing you almost dying on me. Please don't go to sleep anymore. You gave me a scare. Where's that dang teacher?" Sam hisses under his breath with his tears still raining off his chin. He hugs James's batter and sore body close to his chest. "Okay, James. We are going to go on an adventure." After lifting up James's legs, Sam smiles through his tears, "Okay. Are you ready for adventure time?" He tries to sound cheerful, but ends up groaning as he tries to support all of James's weight in his noodle-like arms. "Man, you weigh a lot," he grumbles under his breath.

"Sorry, it's not my fault," James yelps in pain, trying to keep his eyes open with all his might.

Sam struggles to stand as the extra weight overpowers his strength. He hungrily sucks in the cold air, using the last bit of his energy to yank James up into his arms. After stumbling forward a bit, he finally finds his balance. Waiting a minute, to catch his breath, Sam turns to the front door. "How am I supposed to open the door with no hands?" he groans under his breath and grinds his teeth in frustration.

"How about you kick it?" James jokes, trying to clear the tense air.

"Not a bad idea. Hope it works," Sam smiles, slamming the heel of his foot hard onto the glass door.

“Bang!” The loud noise echoes throughout the empty hallway.

"Wow! That works!" Sam stands there, stun. He has just kicked a door open, like one of the awesome superheroes in his and James's favorite movies. Grinning from cheek to cheek, Sam walks proudly through the front door. Okay. That was fun. Now, we need to get Jamey some help; he reminds himself to stay focus on the task at hand.

"Miss Stumped!" Sam calls out.

"Dude," James groans.

"Huh?" Sam looks down at his young lover with a hint of fear in his angry eyes "What's up?" he asks casually, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

"That... cough… cough is not… cough her name," James grins.

"Wait! What? But... but... I've called her by that name all year," Sam stutter, turning red with embarrassment as James starts to laugh lightly at his humiliation. "Then what is her name?"

"Mrs. Grosstoe," James grins, trying to hold back his laughter, feeling his chest starting to ache.

"Ha! Ha! So funny, I forgot to laugh. Oh, no! I am slipping," Sam jokes, pretending to drop the wounded teen lower to the ground to get him back for his not so funny joke.

"Sam, no... no... no. Sorry. I... will stay… cough quiet for now," James panic, not wanting to slip or fall for real this time.

"Good," Sam smiles as he lifts James's weight back up as high as he can and forcing James to rest his bloody mess of a head against his stained vest. James uncomfortably fidgets under Sam's tight grip. Puffing out his cheeks in defeat, he settles down awkwardly on top of his chest. James yawns softly, listening to the rhythm of his hero's rapid heartbeat. He can sense his mind zoning in and out with the peaceful thumps humming in his ear. He yawns loudly as his eyelids grow heavier and heavier with each passing minute.

"Sammy," James whimper childishly, but Sam didn’t hear him with his mind too focus on one thing�"getting the teen in his arms some much needed help. James glances up, noticing the determination burning intensity in his little friend's eyes. He admires Sam's sapphire orbs as they shift from bright to dim with every door he checks.

"Where is the stupid... #$@&%*! teacher?" he grumbles under his breath.

"Oh, Mr. Hitchjack! I just called 911, and they said they were unable to reach us at this moment, which is most definitely strange. Don't either of you boys agree? Aren't they supposed to be there for an emergency? But I do have good news�"the school nurse is here."

Sam whips his head around, feeling all his worry and fear dissolve with the words "nurse...is...here," echoing throughout his panic mind. A big, goofy grin stretches across his once-frowning lips. James can't help but smile at his friend's grinning from the corner of his eye, but he keeps his main focus on admiring the godlike eyes shimmering with a new blast of hope.

"Thank you," Sam thanks politely.

Nodding her head, the homeroom teacher gestures both boys in the small, cramp room, which read NURSE along the window. Sam stands a couple inches away from the open doorway, pondering on how he is going to fit himself and James in there at once. Taking a deep breath in, before balancing James’s entire weight on one arm, he tries to keep as much pressure as possible on his still-bleeding gash across his banged-up forehead. Sam pushes his head close to his chest for some extra pressure with his right hand while he struggles to realign his legs with his left. With all his effort, Sam slowly shuffles awkwardly sideward through the open door, hold by their homeroom teacher. Staring up, James notices a small hint of fear and sorrow in his homeroom teacher's eyes. He feels guilty for her, yet he feels a small bit of rage from a distant memory of her distinctly calling his dad a hippie and other names he can't repeat.

"James?"

He lifts his spinning head up, trying to focus his gelatin-like mind on who is talking to him, he realizes that his eyelids are starting to droop and cover his worn-out eyes. James yawns one last time, letting his frail body surrender into the pit of darkness. He feels his tense muscles starting to relax as his mind begins to drift off as he curls up against the soft, yet firm object in his noodle-like arms. Embracing the warmth, he hugs it tightly in his sleep.

"James honey," a voice sweetly whispers in his ear.

Dad? James wonder. No, this voice sounds rather young, not as raspy as my dad's. But who calls me honey? Sammy! Opening his drowsy eyes, a crack, he notices Sam's worried face staring at him a couple inches away. James can sense his red cheeks burning warmer with every second he stares at Sam's face so close up. Is he going to kiss me? But I am not ready, he panics, trying to squirm away. However, his body didn't move an inch. It is as if something or someone is holding down his limbs. James musters up what little of energy he has left to get away from Sammy.  But he soon realizes it is useless as he is too weak to put up a real fight with his muscles screaming for him to stop.

"Ugh," James moans, collapsing on his back into the mattress below in defeat. He closes his tired eyes once again, in an exhaustive effort to relax his throbbing muscles. His ears twitch with each time he hears an unfamiliar voice repeating his name. He stretches his neck further up, trying to hear what they are saying about him.

Listening closely, James manages to make out a familiar voice saying; "Here's a clean shirt to replace the bloody one Mr. Misluck is wearing. Be careful. Also, can you try to add pressure to the makeshift bandage? His wounds are not critical. He's just one of those people who bleeds a lot," instructs the nurse.

“Huh,” James moans in pain with the voice suddenly stopping, following with quick footsteps and a soft door slam. I guess they left me here? James believes with hearing no voice.

"James," Sam whispers in a skittish voice.

"Ahh," James squeaks, not expecting someone to still be here. Cracking his eyes barely open, just enough to see a blurry image of Sam walking towards him. "Oh, it’s Sam," James moans.

“James, time to get you more comfortable and out of your... um... your copper-red stained shirts," Sam whispers nervously as he cautiously approaches the half-conscious teen's body. Each of his steps completely silent, and he feels a blush growing redder upon his cheeks as he approaches James. You just need to change his shirt. You can do this, Sam chants with some doubt in his mind. With each square of tile, he steps over, he realizes his movements are getting incredibly slower as he gets closer to the bed.

"What's happening?" Sam panic, sensing his fear taking control of his terrified mind, paralyzing his leg muscles from budging. Staring with wide eyes, Sam nervously clutches the clean shirt in his sweaty fingers. Gulping down his fright of seeing James's bare skin, he struggles to lift one of his trembling feet forward. While forcing his frozen legs to move closer, Sam bites down on his bottom lip. "James honey, I have... um, a clean shirt for you. Um, that means... I am going to have to lift your bloody one off first." Sam tries to sound caring, but fails as his voice cracks with the very thought of seeing James without a shirt. Shaking the embarrassing thought from his mind, Sam keeps thinking, Stay focus.

James tries his best to comprehend what Sam is mumbling about, as fast as possible. Minutes pass one by one before he realizes what Sam is saying. James feels his hair standing straight up along the edge of his neck. Wait. Did he say "shirt off"? he wonders before lunging forward to his knees in a state of shock. He senses his muscles tensing up with the very thought of his back being exposed to innocent eyes. Sam can't see. Sam can't know, James thought as he forces his eyes wide open.

Desperately, he tries to find a way out of this nerve-wracking situation. Sighing, James tries his best to blink away the grogginess from his vision. Taking one last deep breath in, he attempts to crawl away from the blond-headed boy. James cringes with feeling the cold metal poles pressing against his drenched shirt. He feels moisture sliding down his cheeks, mixing with his blood, staining everything red. With his fear continuing to overflow from his eyes and his heart ringing loudly in his ear. James groans, clutching tighter on the poles for dear life.

"Don't lift my shirt up, “James tries to scream, but no words came out. He sucks in a big breath of air, allowing his lungs to refill.

"Please don't look," he tries to scream again, yet a mere whisper slithers up from his throat. "Sammy," he croaks, trying desperately to get Sam's attention. Sam squints, noticing the young boy quivering in terror at the top of the bed.

"It's okay, Jamey. I know it is embarrassing and probably painful, but you don't want to wear your blood all day, do you? You might get a nasty infection or something. Do you want that to happen?" Sam gently smiles, closing his eyes, forcing his legs to move. Pushing aside the blush plaster on his cheeks, he asks in a surprisingly calm tone, "Can you get closer?"

James hesitates for a second, before unwrapping his fingers from the metal pole without thinking. He let out a soft yelp and quickly plummet back onto the soft pillow beneath. Clutching his hands tightly into fists, he digs his nails deeply into the base of his palms. James can feel the moisture bubbling under his grip, he hisses under his dry breath as he struggles to fight the screams down. His fear grew immensely with every button Sam unhook. James tenses up as the light fabric slipped down his trembling arms.

"Can you lift up your arms, please?" Sam asks nervously. Biting his bottom lip, Sam slowly peels off the blood-soaked fabric from the quivering young teenager. James clutches his teeth tightly, grinding them roughly together and groaning faintly under his breath with every inch the scratchy wet fabric scraps upon his bruised skin. The material tickles against his red nose and over his messy head of hair. James notices his muscles going limp, shutting off from his brain, leaving him helpless. James shivers when a small breeze brushes against his bare back. Clutching his numb, blood-soaked fist, he slams them as hard as he can on the mattress below. He ignores the agonizing pain rushing up through the tips of his fingers. Soft, weeping noises escapes through his chattering teeth as he bites down on his tongue. His pain tolerance began to diminish as the unbearable pain travels upward, hitting bones on its way. He gnaws deeply on the flesh of his tongue as each strike of pain flourish further through his muscles and coating his taste buds with a nasty metallic flavoring. Dropping his chin, James fights out an unsteady breath. He locks his mind on the only solution, which is to hide away his shoulders and back from Sam's innocent eyes. Sam can't see. It will destroy him, James thought as he delicately bent forward trying to snatch away the clean white shirt from Sam's sweaty hands. He grips the sheets and tighten his grip because he didn't want to stumble off the edge. He breathes out a shaky breath as he moves a couple inches closer to his goal. Brushing his fingertips against the hem of the fabric, he smiles with success and thought, A little bit closer. However, something snatches his shoulder. A warm, slimy hand squeezes hard on his bare skin, preventing James from moving any closer to the precious shirt. His eyes, stretch wide open with pure terror racing through his mind.

"James! Am I hurting you?" Sam asks, opening his eyes.

His voice fills the room with loud, blood-curdling screams as he jumps back. He trips over his own feet and tumble to the floor. Spinning around, James watches Sam pointing up at him, gasping, unable to breathe. A horrifying expression plaster on the young teen's face, making James sick to his stomach. Gulping down his fear, he tries his best to communicate with the traumatize teen.

"What... What... What..." Sam tries to speak, he wants to know who or what had created such a gruesome scar. He points up at James's back, trying to get him to understand what he is trying to say. James feels lightheaded with all his blood rushing from his face; sweat pouring down his brows like bullets. His mind racing with several thoughts on why Sam might be screaming. He knew most of them are lies to cover up the one and only answer. Squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he can, he waits for the two words he'd dreaded since they met.

"What happened?" Sam whispers.