“No loose clothing, Miss Rodriguez,” Mr. Harrelson says, his face twitching at Ash’s plaid overshirt.
“We’re not using any power tools, I don’t think it’d be a problem.” Ash rolls her eyes.
“Safety first!”
“Fine, fine,” Ash mutters, taking off the flannel. She’s wearing a tight black t-shirt underneath, stretched tight over her toned arms and—
Oh no.
Jasmine blinks and misses with her marker, messing up her row. She grits her teeth and tries again, holding a nail still. She grips the hammer in her hand, concentrating as she aims for the head of the nail, tapping it lightly.
She looks up to find Harrelson watching her. “You’ll have to use a bit more force, Ms. Chau,” he says. “Try again.”
Jasmine raises the hammer back up and bites back a laugh; Ash is holding her hammer up to her face in the semblance of a mustache, and is wobbling around, doing an impression of Mr. Harrelson.
Harrelson narrows his eyes at her. “Something funny?”
“No, just uh—I’ll try to use more force, thanks.” Jasmine bursts into giggles as soon as Harrelson leaves their workbench and continues his walk around the class.
“Yeah, Jasmine, use the Force to draw a straight line,” Ash teases.
“I can’t do anything straight,” Jasmine says.
Ash stares at her for a long moment before she bursts into laughter, throwing her head back with bright, joyful chortles.
“That was a good one,” she gasps, reaching up to wipe her eyes. “Am I crying? I’m crying. You’re too funny.”
Jasmine’s never been called funny before, and she feels hot all of a sudden, all her blood rushing to her face with pleased surprise. “Not as funny as you. That Harrelson impression was spot-on. I’m going to forever remember your hammer mustache.”
Ash grins, turning to her board with intense focus as she starts to hammer all her nails in a neat row.
Mr. Harrelson’s voice booms from the front of the room. “Now, once we finish with this, we’ll move on to handsaws, but we can’t until everyone has demonstrated their ability to complete the first task.”
Oh, right. Jasmine’s been too busy laughing with Ash to do any sort of hammering. She swings it again, getting the first one to go in, albeit a bit crookedly. Four more to go. Jasmine tries to settle into a rhythm of it, and then looks up to see how Ash is doing.
Ash’s arms are built up, her biceps high and rounded, tight with muscle, and she looks so capable and beautiful, her hair gathered up at the top of her head, her ponytail bobbing with every swing. A few strands of hair have escaped her ponytail, falling down to the nape of her neck in soft, delicate curls that Jasmine wants to touch—
A white-hot searing pain suddenly blossoms from her thumb and forefinger and Jasmine lets out a high-pitched scream. Tears spring to her eyes, and the pain is so sharp and intense that it’s all she can do to just hold her hand there, lip wobbling. She’s vaguely aware of Mr. Harrelson shouting and classmates gathering around her, and Ash stepping forward with a worried expression.
“Jasmine! Are you okay?”
“Hold your arm up to the ceiling, Ms. Chau—”
Jasmine doesn’t want to cry in front of everyone in class, and she knows tears are already falling down her face, it hurts so much—
Mr. Harrelson is saying something, and there’s pressure on her hand, but it feels like it’s pulsing, like she’s got a whole new heartbeat just in her hand and it’s radiating red-hot pain.
Jasmine squints at her hand. Mr. Harrelson’s pressed a wad of paper towels to it, and he instructs for her to hold it steady. “Now keep your arm raised and pressure on this.” He shakes his head. “You better head down to the nurse’s office.” He scribbles a note and hands it to Jasmine.
“I’ll go with you,” Ash offers. She grabs Jasmine’s backpack and her own, and the plaid shirt. “Come on.” She grabs the other wad of paper towels Harrelson offers them and gently leads Jasmine out the door.
The hallways seem strangely empty and quiet, in this in-between, and Ash babbles to fill the silence. “One time, I was trying a flip and landed on the edge of the ramp. I did the thing where I tried to break the fall with my face, ended up with this. It bled like a river and hurt so badly.” Ash points to her right eyebrow, where a long, thin scar streaks down from her forehead.
“I don’t think I’ll get a cool scar, though,” Jasmine mutters.
Ash laughs. “That’s okay, you’re plenty cool enough.”
Jasmine blushes.
* * *
Ms. Sugihara, the school nurse, tuts appropriately as she undoes the makeshift paper towel bandage and tosses it in the trash. “Did Mr. Harrelson do this? I swear, just because that man took a few first aid courses doesn’t mean he knows everything.” She squints as she cleans the small cut on Jasmine’s hand with an alcohol swab. “Well, I’ve certainly seen worse.”
It’s not as bad as Jasmine thought it would be, now that her hand has stopped bleeding. There’s a small tear in her skin where the hammer struck her hand, and it still hurts, but it’s more of an angry throbbing now.
Ms. Sugihara bandages her cut neatly with gauze and medical tape, and gives Jasmine an ice pack, instructing her to press it in place. The cold relief is immediate.
“I don’t think anything’s broken, but you’re welcome to call your parents and have them take you to the doctor if you like.” Ms. Sugihara smiles at them both.
“I think I’ll be okay,” Jasmine says.
“Do you have any candy, Ms. S?” Ash asks, swinging her legs as she sits next to Jasmine on the exam bed.
“Of course, Ashley,” Ms. Sugihara says with a smile, pulling a bowl out from under her desk. “You’re both welcome to stay here through lunch. Jasmine, if you need a note for fifth and sixth period, let me know.”
“I think I’ll be fine,” Jasmine says. “Thank you!”
“Okay. I’m going to check on another student, okay? If you need me, I’ll be over there.” Ms. Sugihara nods at them before heading over to the bed at the other end of the room, taking a groaning boy’s temperature.
Ash is looking at her feet, almost shy. “I uh, I did an independent study last year and helped out in the main office.”
“That sounds nice,” Jasmine says. “I’ve never had a free period.”
Ash shrugs. “It’s not so bad. I did my homework, helped file some stuff. Got to know some of the teachers. Ate a lot of Ms. S’s candy.”