She'd been dragging all day long.
Quinn barely got through her first few periods, barely got through lunch, barely ate anything at all, and near the end of lunch, she nearly felt as if she was going to die. She was tired. But she couldn't go home, not when there were so many things yet to do, time was flying, and there was still a Spanish test to take.
But now it was becoming unbearable. After lunch, she'd had an extra-long bathroom break (she didn't think she'd drunk that much orange juice), and now she was running late. On her way to Spanish, she was dragging so much she could barely move. Her back hurt, her sides hurt, and she had to stop and lean against the wall for a moment.
Halfway through it, she realized that this wasn't a Braxton-Hicks contraction. This was
real. And she'd had the same feeling right before she'd left lunch, right before she'd gone to the bathroom.
Her eyes widened and she looked around, spotting Kurt a few feet away.
"Kurt! Kurt, wait up!" She hurried after him, once she could move away from the wall.