She looked surprised that you knew the answer but waved her hand dismissively and you glanced at Kenma beside you and he nodded his encouragement as well.
It was supposed to be equal presenting but every time you tried to hand over to Kenma, the teacher would try and pinpoint something onto you but you always knew the answer.
At the end of the presenting time, Kenma explained the diagram and you gave him small smiles of encouragement as well, giving him as much support as he had given you during your time to present.
“Oooo, Y/N is in Kenma’s jacket,” one girl in the front row snickered softly to the person beside her while Kenma explained something else.
You heard her and felt the embarrassment rush to your cheeks.
It was seen as an intimate thing to be in someone else’s clothes, especially being in a male’s clothes, when you were female, and you didn’t want Kenma to feel embarrassed by it so you glanced at him to see if he had heard, but he didn’t seem to be outwardly fazed by it.
“Do you think they’re dating?” the other person asked, and that first spike of embarrassment escalated as the second spike came in hard and fast after that comment.
“Oh no! I hope he doesn’t get embarrassed and want to not hang out with me,” you thought, but again, he didn’t seem to have heard them.
Unfortunately though, the teacher had heard them and she called your name loudly, making you jump with fright.
“Yes?” you asked timidly.
“The jacket you are wearing is inappropriate. Please remove it at once,” she demanded.
“I…” the third wave of embarrassment washed the words right back down your throat and you coughed a little to try and calm down and speak, “she wouldn’t have noticed if those stupid classmates didn’t say anything!” you screamed internally.
“Take it off this instant,” she said, and you shook your head fearfully, clutching it closed at the front.
“If you do not remove it I will have you suspended,” she threatened.
“I can’t,” you croaked out.
“Why not?” she snapped.
“Umm… because…” You glanced at the entire class who were all staring at you, feeling like the room was closing in on you, like shrink wrap, constricting your flow of oxygen.
Then Kenma walked past you to the teacher and spoke softly into her ear, making sure not to talk too loudly so that the other students in the class couldn’t hear.
The teacher nodded gruffly and then stood up to walk over to you.
“Go to the office,” she said in a low voice and you nodded and limped your way out of class, leaving behind you a wake of curiously eyes and wagging tongues.
The stress of that situation overflowed and suddenly you were crying as you limped to the stairs, trying to get down them through your blurry vision.
Heavy sobs wracked your body and you grabbed for the rail to help you along.
You were too deep into your own self hatred and embarrassment that you didn’t hear Kenma come up behind you and hold onto your other arm.
You jumped with fright when you felt someone grab you, but when you whipped your head to the right to see who it was, you relaxed when you saw Kenma there.
“I was so embarrassed,” you sobbed to him, turning on the top step and pushing your lowered head into his chest.
He wrapped his arms around your back and just held you gently as you cried it out.
It had been a stressful situation for him too, so he could empathize with your predicament.
“I’ll help you to the office,” he said, waiting until you were ready to move again and then slowly helping you down the stairs and off down the hall.
The office ladies were tolerant of you, and because Kenma was there they accepted his story of you getting run over and gave you a spare school issued jumper to use to cover your torn shirt.
“Make sure to get a new one soon,” the lady said as she held out the jumper for you.
“Thank you,” you said softly, taking it and putting it on.
The women there told you to go to the nurse but you still refused and then you hobbled back to the classroom with Kenma by your side.
“I don’t want to go back in,” you whispered sadly to him, trying to hide your red swollen eyes and runny nose, with your hair.
“I’ll go in first. You can hide behind me,” he said as he stepped into the classroom with his head down.
At hearing the back door open, everyone swung around in their seats to see who it was but the teacher called everyone’s attention to the front again to take the heat off of you and Kenma, and to his credit, he walked you to your seat first, then went to his.
For the rest of the class you kept your head down, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how kind Kenma had been to you.
“No one has ever helped me this much? Usually they tell me to just suck it up, or ignore me, but he stayed with me and helped me through it all.”
You glanced back at him.
He was looking at you from under his fringe and your heart skipped a beat before you quickly looked back to the front of the room again, unable to keep eye contact.
“What’s wrong with me? Why am I suddenly feeling shy around him?”
That afternoon, after school, Kenma walked you to you house.
“Hey. Do you wanna come in? I always come to your place so you can come to mine. We can chill in my room. It’s not as big as your room and it doesn’t look over the backyard, but it still has a bed and stuff and—,”
“How’s your ankle?” Kenma asked, not paying attention to your ramble.
“Umm… it’s aching,” you said, looking down at it, “but it will be ok.”
“Make sure you bandage it,” he replied.
“Ok,” you said, “are you gonna come in?”
“Umm… no. I’ll go home,” he said softly, “see you tomorrow.” And with that he left.
You watched him walk down side path and off down the road, then you sighed and entered your house.
That night you tried to rest your ankle, and also used cold compresses, but the bruising around the outside ankle bone was getting really bad, so the next morning your dad, reluctantly, took you to the doctors.
“Can you put your weight on it?” the doctor asked you once your dad had ushered you into the room then ducked out to take a work call.
“No.” You shook your head.