Eyes of a Stalker by Valerie Sherrard

nausea, and small dark clouds began to form in my field of vision.
    Don’t faint! I told myself sternly, but I knew I was going to if I didn’t do something to stop it that very second. Those warning signs couldn’t be ignored. I paused and squatted, putting my head down and breathing deeply. It was the hardest thing: to stop and do that when everything in me was screaming to hurry up and get to Greg.
    I forced myself to stay that way for a good two or three minutes, though every second that ticked past was an agony of waiting. When I stood again I cameface-to-face with Ben Hebert.
    â€œYou okay?” he asked. “You look kinda pale.”
    â€œI felt faint, but I think I’m okay now. Thanks,” I said. I nodded toward the sounds of the commotion and began walking that way. “I have to see what’s going on.”
    â€œYeah, I was on my way there when I saw you bent over,” he said, falling in beside me. After a moment or two he said, “You can take my arm if you need to.”
    â€œI’m all right,” I said impatiently. We were almost there by then. Just a few more steps to the next hall where the grade twelve students had their lockers.
    The sight that met my eyes when I turned that corner is one I will never be able to forget. Greg stood surrounded by other students, some of who seemed to be holding him up. Blood almost covered his face and I might not even have known for sure that it was him except for the fact that I recognized the shirt he was wearing.
    â€œGreg!” I tried to push my way forward through the growing crowd, but no one was budging.
    â€œPlease, keep back! An ambulance is on the way.”
    I recognized that voice as Mr. Grimes’s and saw that there were several other teachers there as well. Their efforts to keep order weren’t meeting with much success.
    â€œGreg!” I called out again, and saw his head turn toward me slightly.
    â€œShelby?” His right hand lifted in a little wave, which brought tears to my eyes. “Hey, can you let her through, please?”
    At least the kids listened to
him
, and I was ushered through the crowd.
    â€œIt’s nothing,
really
,” he said when I got close enough to touch his arm. “It probably looks bad, but I’m okay.”
    My throat was tight and aching so fiercely that I couldn’t speak. I stood silently, squeezing his arm and trying not to break down sobbing in front of everyone. Other things began to register, like that a couple of other kids were also bleeding, though not nearly as much as Greg. And there were shards of glass all over the floor.
    I tried to ask what had happened but the pandemonium was growing and more and more people were arriving on the scene, creating so much noise that my voice was lost in it all. It seemed that half the people there were talking to Greg — asking him questions, telling him things like “keep pressure on the cuts” and so on.
    The ambulance arrived just a moment later and, in spite of his protests that it wasn’t necessary, Greg was taken to the hospital. As the ambulance workers strapped him to the stretcher he told me that he’d call me later.
    â€œDon’t waste your time coming to the hospital,” he said. “I’ll be out before you know it.”
    As if! I phoned home and Mom came at once and drove me straight to the emergency department. I hurried in while she parked the car.
    A nurse directed me to the examining room he was in and, finding the door open, I stepped inside. Another nurse was there, cleaning the blood away from his face.
    â€œYes?” she asked, turning to me.
    â€œWhat did I tell you?” Greg said before I could answer. “That’s my girlfriend, Shelby.”
    â€œOh, yes.” The nurse smiled. “Greg was just saying that you never listen to him, so you should be arriving any minute.”
    â€œShe’s a walking advertisement for the modern,