Art Imitates Life Imitates Art

The following fall, Jordan was in high school and was pleasantly surprised to learn that Mr. Lindell was the art instructor there as well.  After lying to his mother about one of the classes she wanted him to take being full, he signed up once again for art class.  It was taught in the mornings at high school, so that Mr. Lindell could then travel to the junior high school after lunch for his classes there.  The third six weeks of the semester, they started the segment where the other students would be working on pottery.

Jordan didn't have the option of going to another classroom now that he was at high school, so Mr. Lindell, going from the assumption that the allergy to the clay was contingent on actually touching the clay, had opted for keeping Jordan in the art room, but having him distanced from the students working with the clay.  Jordan had agreed, as he had no idea where he would have been sent if he had been forced to leave the room.  Once again, Jordan worked on a different, independent project while the rest of the class made their obligatory ash trays and vases.  This arrangement worked quite well for several days, but it couldn't last forever.  What neither Mr. Lindell nor Jordan could have foreseen was how much of a klutz Dennis Howitz was off the football field. 

"Students, if you would please come to the front of the room and get your supplies," Mr. Lindell announced.  "As always avoid getting too close to…. Dennis, what have I said about….  Jordan, look out!"    

The quarterback tripped over his own feet at the end of the row while carrying the small tub which contained his lump of clay and enough water to keep it moist until the next day when he could work with it again.  The water splashed all over Jordan from his neck to his knees and the lump of clay rolled down Jordan's chest and onto his thighs.  As the class was made up of students in all four grades of high school, many of them were not aware of the allergy situation from the year before.  They just all thought Jordan was the teacher's pet, the preferred student.  They started to laugh as Mr. Lindell yelled for them to settle down.  He rushed over, grabbed the small freshman up in his arms like a bridal carry and literally ran from the room. 

Mr. Lindell hurried to the faculty men's rest room by the office, stood Jordan on the floor and started stripping him quickly.  The clay laden water had soaked all the way through the poor boy's jeans and into his underwear.  "Jordan, I'm afraid those have to come off as well and quickly," he murmured as he reached for the garment then pulled his hands back realizing what he had been about to do.  "Get them off and start washing yourself while I get to the office lost and found box and try to find you something to wear.  I will knock on the door of course, but please do not lock it.  Should you lose consciousness I would be unable to get in here to help you."

"It's ok, Mr. Lindell, it's not your fault," the boy replied as he quickly yanked the undies off in front of the man.  He was already starting to itch, so he reasoned there was no time to be shy in front of another male.  The boy turned his back to the man and the door so that he could start washing himself the best he could with soap and water and paper towels.  As Mr. Lindell left the room, he made a mental note to ask about the red stripes he had seen on the boy's butt, back, and legs.  They were red, angry looking marks, but they were out of place as the clay should have only affected the front of his body.  It wasn't until he was going through the bin of unclaimed clothing that the stripes registered as not being connected to the clay at all.

"Jordan, I have asked the school nurse to check on you as well," Mr. Lindell called from outside the small bathroom.

"But, but… Mr. Lindell, I'm naked," the freshman called out.

"And I'm a nurse who needs to evaluate and treat your allergic reaction, Jordan," a very male sounding voice responded.

"You're a guy?" Jordan blurted as he opened the door and peeked around it.  He had no idea that this meant both men could see his back side reflected in the mirror in the wall over the sink.  "They have boy nurses?"

"No, they have men nurses," the man in the medical scrub suit answered as he reached out to ruffle Jordan's hair.  "Now, let me step inside with you, while Mr. Lindell gets back to his class."

"Yes sir," Jordan answered bashfully as he opened the door wider.

"I see your concern and I will be sure to handle the situation from here," the school nurse said to the art teacher.  "Don’t worry, Terry.  I will handle all of it."  He shut the door then and held out a bottle and a spoon for Jordan.  "Do you know how much you weigh, Jordan?"

"Yes sir.  I weigh 93 pounds," the boy said proudly.  "I just checked this morning, since today is my fourteenth birthday."

"Happy birthday. You seem really excited about your weight, Jordan," the nurse said with a rather strange tone to his voice.

"Yes sir, I'm finally over 90 pounds," Jordan said excitedly.  "This wasn't exactly the present I was hoping for though," he mumbled as he started to scratch at his red tummy.

"Don't scratch, Jordan," the nurse scolded.  "Take two spoons of the Benadryl while I examine you to see how badly you are covered from the clay."

"It soaked me through, sir," Jordan offered.  "I was wet from my neck all the way to my knees.  Even my underwear got wet.  Did Mr. Lindell find me something to wear, sir?"

"I'm afraid this was the best we could do," the nurse apologized as he handed over a white t shirt, a jock strap without a protective cup, and the potential problem, a very short purple skirt with black cats as a design in the fabric.

"That's a skirt!" Jordan squeaked in shock.  "I'm a boy.  I can't wear that.  It’s gotta be for a little girl too; look how short that is."

"I'm afraid that was all there was, Jordan," the nurse said with a shrug.  "None of the other students will see you."

"You promise?  They pick on me enough as it is," Jordan whined as he pulled the jock up his legs and stepped into the skirt.  He was being very careful and deliberate to keep his back turned away from the nurse, however.  He still hadn't caught on that the mirror behind him showed the red marks that had clearly not come from his exposure to the clay.

"Come along with me, Jordan.  You and I are going to have a talk on the way to the emergency room."

"The emergency room?" the boy squeaked.

"Yes, you have significantly more exposure to a known allergen this time than you did last year, so I am taking you to the ER just as a precaution," the nurse told him.  "Wait here in the hall just a moment while I sign us both out for the rest of the day."

"Ok, I guess," Jordan squeaked nervously as he looked around.  He was standing in a hall that connected to the main hall of the school and classes were just about to switch out, meaning there would be a lot of kids in the halls going to their next rooms.  Just as he thought this, a shadow fell over him.

"I didn't mean to try to kill you," a very emotional voice announced.  "I didn't know you were allergic, and it was an accident 'cause I tripped over my big feet and I'm really, really, super sorry and I promise I'll try really hard not to do it again, but ummm… why are you wearing a miniskirt now?"

Jordan turned his horrified eyes up to meet Dennis Howitz standing next to him.  "Umm uhm…" was all he managed to say before the Benadryl kicked in along with his nerves and he started sagging down the wall he had been leaned against.

"Mister Nurse!" Dennis called out as he grabbed the smaller boy up in his arms and rushed into the nurse's office.  "He was talking to me, and he just went out like a light.  I didn't mean to kill him, I swear.  I was just apologizing and… and… You gotta save him, Mister Nurse."

"Relax, Dennis," the school nurse said soothingly.  "You didn't kill him; he just took some allergy medicine, and he apparently has a low tolerance for it.  He's just asleep.  If you could do me two favors, though, I would really appreciate it."

"Sure, anything," the linebacker offered quickly.

"If you could carry him to my car in front of the school, and this is most important, Dennis, do NOT tell a soul that the poor boy had to wear a skirt because that was all we had in the lost and found clothing bin."

"I wouldn't tell nobody ever," Dennis vowed.  "Poor kid.  First I try to kill him with my flower vase, and now he has to do drag because of me too."

"I'm sure it wasn't your fault, Dennis," the nurse assured him.  "All right, let's go out through the office entrance so no one else in the halls will see him," he added as the bell rang dismissing the students from their classes.  Dennis adjusted his arm under the smaller boy and suddenly his face went very red.  "What's the matter, is he too heavy for you?"

"Oh no, he don't weigh nothing, it’s just that… uhm… he's not….  No, he’s not too heavy at all, my kid sister weighs more than him and she's still in elementary," Dennis stammered nervously.  "Umm… Mister Nurse?  What if he gets hurt on the way or something?  I mean like if he falls over in your car or something.  Maybe I could ride with you just to… you know, hold him some more, I mean keep an eye on him."  Before the nurse could turn him down, he added quickly, "My dad is in the ER today, so I'm sure he'll write me an excuse for my classes for helping out."

"I'm aware of who your father is Dennis, and your mother.  In fact, while we are in the car if you could call her from your cell phone and ask her to meet us at the hospital that would save some time."

"My mom?" Dennis questioned.  "Oh, I guess I am in big trouble for hurting this little cutie bad enough he has to go to the hospital.  I’m such a big dumb klutz."

"So, you think Jordan is cute, huh?" the nurse asked directly.

"Uhm… I mean well I just… it's well…."

"I won't tell anyone, Dennis, but are your parents aware?"

"Yes sir, they know about me, but they told me to keep it to myself so I could stay on the football team," Dennis answered with a blush.

"Rest assured, your secret is safe with me," the nurse smiled.  "That is not why your mother needs to meet us at the ER, however.  I can't say any more than that, though."

"Oh, ok, I'll give her a….  Oh gosh, you mean he needs my mom?" Dennis blurted as they reached the car in the front parking lot of the school.  "Oh my god, my poor little cutie.  Don't you worry, cute stuff, nobody will mess with you again after my mom gets done with them, and if they do, they're mine," the football player growled.

"My thoughts exactly," the driver of the car mumbled as they headed to the town hospital.