Cold water splashed on my face. I was floating for few seconds before reality crashed in and I awoke, spluttering. A crowd of faces peered down at me with looks of worry, relief and concern. I, however, felt none of these feelings. From the angle I was lying at, the teacher's face appeared upside down and his forehead wrinkles created the illusion of a smile. I burst out laughing but had to stop myself, a pain in my left hand momentarily paralysing me. I let out a groan.

"Lara? Lara, are you okay?" the teacher asked, his creases in his forehead smoothing out.

"Yeah." I croaked and tried to sit up, but hands pushed me back down.

"No no, don't move. You might have a concussion." the teacher said, his hands placed firmly on my shoulders. I looked past him to see a crowd of students around me, among Beverly and Patrick, but the Losers club were nowhere to be seen.

"I can't have a concussion." I mumbled, shoving the teachers hands away and forcing myself to sit up. "I didn't hit my head." Black spots dotted my vision as blood rushed to my head, but I tried to act natural in case the teacher insisted that I did have a concussion. After my sight cleared up, I saw another group of students crowding around something to my right, and Belch, who was sitting a few metres away, looking disgruntled as a teacher furiously yelled at him.

"Are you sure, Lara? You did black out, that can be a sign of a concussion." the teacher said seriously, and I roughly wiped the water off my face.

"I don't have a concussion, okay?" I snapped, a searing pain burning through my wrist. I didn't look at it in fear of seeing something bad. I could feel wetness dripping down my hand and trickling down my fingers. "Can someone get me an ice pack, I'm dying over here." I saw Beverly disappear from the crowd and I silently thanked her.

"For your head? Because if your conk is hurting, then that's a sign you have a concussion." the teacher stated, trying to push me back down. I slapped his hand away with my good arm.

"No, I don't have a concussion!" I said. More black spots started to appear in my vision and I swayed, slightly.

"See, you're unstable. You can barely sit up straight and that's another sign of a concussion!" the teacher said. I grabbed onto the ground beside me to stop myself from tipping over, but I used my bad hand and immediately cried out in pain.

"It's not a concussion! My wrist, my wrist hurts." I wailed, cradling my arm to my chest. I felt a light tap on my shoulder and turned to see Beverly holding out a small ice pack. I blinked away tears I didn't realise were there and gratefully took it from her.

"Shit, her arm doesn't look too good, sir." I heard a voice say and I closed my eyes. I still hadn't examined the damage, and I didn't want to. Suddenly, the weight of everyone staring started to come down on me and I found myself wanting to be alone, feeling suffocated by their presence. Someone kneeled down beside me and I opened my eyes to see Patrick looking at my wrist, grinning.

"She's lost a lot of blood." he said and I groaned. Blood? Oh god, there was blood?

"Okay, someone get me the first aid kit immediately. And get Mrs Ropel, she knows more about this stuff than I do. I think she's with Eddie, over there." the teacher said and people around me started moving. Patrick stayed next to me and I was grateful, but the way he was looking at my wrist disturbed me. It was like he wasn't even phased by the sight of my blood, like he was used to it. As if he liked it.

"Is it bad." I whispered to him, my body feeling cold. I shivered, clutching my arm to my chest tightly.

"You haven't looked at it?" he asked, and I shook my head. "Well, I guess it's not bad at all. Just a little scratch."

Relieved that it wasn't as bad as it had been made out to be, I looked down at my wrist but immediately flinched and recoiled, as if I could somehow separate myself from my arm. There was so much blood, I could barely make out where it was coming from. It had soaked into my shirt and splattered the ground around me, looking like blooming poppies. Skin was torn from the base of my thumb to just under the bone of my wrist, my fingers cut badly and the nail of my index finger missing.

I felt my gut clench and I gagged, dry heaving while I clutched my stomach. Patrick tried to rub my back, but I shooed him away. I remained panting on the ground until a teacher came to help. I was too weak to resist. Mrs Ropel had a kind face, but in the moment I was hating her as she tried to clean my wound. The pain I felt was excruciating and I couldn't help but cry out. I grabbed the ground next to me and felt dirt building up beneath my nails.

A thick layer of gauze was wrapped around my hand and arm, looking like a splint. I was relieved that it was covered up and I couldn't see it anymore, but the blood on my clothes was a daunting reminder. Unfortunately, there was no pain medication in the first aid kit so my arm was still aching uncontrollably.

"Do you think you can stand, darl?" Mrs Ropel asked and I nodded. The elderly lady slipped her arm under around my shoulders and, with surprising strength, she helped me up. I wobbled at first, holding on to her to keep my balance, but I managed to remain standing without support. The people that had been crowding around me were now split off into small groups and the only people remaining, to my surprise, was the Losers club.

Bill, Stan, Richie and Eddie were all looking at me with expressions I couldn't place. Accusation? Guilt? Regret? Whatever it was, I didn't want to deal with it so I turned to walk away.

"Lara, wait!" I heard Eddie say and I turned to look at them, uncertainty in my eyes.

"Yeah, Eddie?" I replied. He himself didn't look too scratched up. Besides a few bandaids and his hand which clutched his inhaler tightly, he seemed to be unharmed.

"I, uh.. I just wanted to say thank you." he blushed, "For, you know. Saving my life."

I gave him a small smile.

"No, seriously. I might not be standing right now if you hadn't of grabbed me and now it seems that you got hurt worse than I did." Eddie said, looking upset.

I shrugged, trying to act as if I wasn't hurting but the pain was still all I could think about. "I'll live. I'm just glad you're okay."

"Thanks Lara, you're a really good friend." Eddie replied and my eyes widened briefly.

"I'm s-s-sorry we were dickheads to you, Lara. We d-d-don't care if you like Puh-Patrick." Billy said and I gave him a sad smile.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. I'm the one that's sorry."

"But you've been nothing but good to us and we turned our backs on you when one thing happened. Sorry, Lara." Stan said.

Everyone looked to Richie who hadn't said a thing during the whole conversation. He was looking down, avoiding our gazes, until Eddie gave him a light nudge on the shoulder. He glanced up and stared at me with guilt-ridden eyes.

"Yeah, I'm sorry too. You saved this little fucks life," he pointed his thumb at Eddie, "which is something I don't think I could ever repay you for. You're a real good friend and I'm sorry for ever saying you weren't. The Losers club isn't the same without you, Lara. I was wrong. You are one of us, you always were, and you always will be."

Richie took a deep breath, and I found myself letting one out that I had been unknowingly holding.

"Forgive me, Lara? Forgive us?"

I nodded, tears springing in my eyes as I smiled. "Of course. Of course I forgive you."

I moved forward to hug them, but then I realised I was covered in blood and stopped. Richie gave a 'fuck it' look and embraced me, along with Bill who squeezed me tightly. Eddie and Stan each gave me a pat on the shoulder, which was awkward to say the least. But I didn't care. I was the happiest I had been in a long time and I couldn't wipe the grin off my face for the rest of the day.