| I rolled my eyes and pulled my foot from the lunch table, �Come on Lyn. Nobody around here is that depressed.� �Maybe none of our friends,� Lyn replied sincerely. �But so many kids here are bad. Rotten to the core.� �That doesn�t mean they want to kill everybody here.� Alice shrugged, �Jena�s right.� I peered at my best friend, snuggled against her boyfriend, Mark. �This is a little school. No one would waste their time with killing us off.� A grin appeared on my face, �Exactly. This school is to little for a shooting or bombing. We�ve got what, two police cars? Nobody out here even knows how to make a bomb-- they�d have to come in and beat everybody with a stick. Besides, shooters want publicity most of the time it seems.� �Three cars,� Alice joked. �Jena, Mark?� A hand landed on my shoulder, it was Mrs. Lipsky. �We�ve got an art show. Finish your lunches and come right away.� �Oh! I forgot!� I crammed the last of my ketchup (there were fries somewhere in the pool of red) into my mouth and, grabbing my bookbag, jogged out the cafeteria doors. Mark, not anywhere near my small height or build, had to follow me slowly as I wrenched myself around students, teachers and probably six different couples making out on the floor until I reached the lobby doors. We were late for an art program at the elementary school where we�d present high school artwork to the youngest children. They always enjoyed our visits and being recognized by older students was not a surprise. I smiled at the memories. �Glad you finally decided to join us,� one of the helping art students said. I elbowed him in the stomach. *** �Everybody off!� The three other students that were aiding in the presentation helped offload our work and carry it into the Blackbird Elementary School�s lobby. Once inside we all paused to allow the air conditioning to cool our sweaty bodies. The two younger schools had air conditioning and central heating but the high school did not. What heating we did have was either too much or too little in the winter and the silly rumour that ISS students toiled away in the boiler room, shoveling coal into a glowing furnace was well known. Occasionally, the school grew so hot during the summer they had to dismiss us early. We had no clinic and if a student suffered from heat exhaustion they generally had to go to the hospital. I made a show of wiping the sweat from my face. Mark was holding the door open for a clean-shaven man. He mumbled a thanks and smiled at me as he passed. �Miss.� I stared at him rudely as he walked past, thoroughly unnerved by his pale, sweaty face and light jacket. Probably just some nervous father, going to a teacher conference without his wife, I assured myself at last. Mark gave me a friendly slap on the butt, effectively bringing my attention back to the artwork. We worked quickly, familiar with Mrs.�s Lipsky and our own styles of display. Our conversations were soft and casual, mostly about the heat-- great for the otherwise perfect day. When police sirens halted us, I stared out the large picture windows of the school�s forum, wondering at the bizarre scene of state, county and town cops parking in the crowded school lot. The bell rang for class change. I almost cried out at the fatal, frantic announcement. Mark cursed and Mrs. Lipsky paled when she saw emergency vehicles arriving. �Attention please. Mr. Shut is in the building.� �Please prepare for the massacre...� One girl said softly, crossing herself. This wasn�t a drill. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Lipsky nearing me, arms spread in a calming gesture. She knew I had strong opinions on this kind of thing. �Jena...� My eyes teary, I turned to her. She reached out to take my arm. I took a step backward, this was wrong! Mr. Shut never came during a class change-- he always came in the middle of classes, when the teachers could lock their rooms and protect them. �This can�t be happening!� I cried, running into the hallway. Gunfire summoned me to the center of the school. I had to find the clean-shaven man, he had done this. He was the one striking at the center of people�s lives. He was going after boys and girls with no regards for gender, color or religion. I couldn�t believe it. He was killing the children. He was killing our children! A gunshot took me into the diverging hallway, stumbling from speed. I was cross country track and I�d been born and raised on a near vertical hillside. It took everything I had to remain on my feet and running. I emerged in a main hall just as �Mr. Shut� brought down a teacher. He then turned and aimed his semi-automatic at a small boy. With a desperate cry, I shoved my body between the gun and the boy. The man stared at me in surprise but recovered quickly. The little boy had his chest caught between the wall and my thigh. I felt his heart beating violently against my leg as he grasped my blue jeans. My breath was ragged from my violent dash as I gasped out a plea to the gunman.0 �Don�t kill anyone! Please stop!� I screamed, arm spread over the boy�s face. �Stop it!� He glared at me, unmoving. I watched his brown eyes intently, praying for a break in concentration. He finally spoke, voice so soft I struggled to hear. �I want a hostage.� I stared at him in disbelief, after that killing, he wanted a hostage? I saw his fingers twitch on the gun and reacted. �Take me-� �I want the boy.� My brain struggled for an escape. �Take me. M-my family�s wealthy. They�ll pay anything!� �You�re lying.� I lost all chance of his trust. My heart was beginning to slow. �If you take the boy, they will give you no mercy. You will get the death penalty.� My eyes narrowed. �But you know that...� �If I can�t have the boy than you die.� He moved the gun to my stomach and pulled the trigger. It misfired and he seemed almost surprised at what he�d tried to do. He still stared at the ground as though he�d seen me fall. Without giving him a moment to recover from his shock, I jumped on him. I forced the gun to point at the floor and shoved him ahead of me toward the door. We emerged from the school and headed straight for the police. One officer grabbed him, shoving me roughly away with his shoulder. I closed my eyes and sighed with relief before turning back to the school. �Thank heaven that�s over,� I whispered. *** A nearby teacher crawled over to the high school student and pressed his hand against her bloody stomach. He watched the gunman move stiffly toward the door. After shooting her, he had simply turned and left. The girl stared upward in what appeared to be surprise. He winced when she coughed up blood and prayed the paramedics would hurry. When he looked up, he was shocked to the point of nearly crying out. The little boy sat against the wall sobbing until a pale, semi-transparent figure patted him on the head. Then she turned to the body and knelt. Her eyes met the teacher�s as he stared at the ghost in horrified fascination. When she spoke he couldn�t hear her. When he did hear a voice it was not the ghost but the girl. �Tell them I�m sorry. I never meant for this to happen but I couldn�t stand by and watch them die.� The ghost gave a sad smile and vanished, in her place was a paramedic demanding that the teacher move away. He shook his head but backed away. She was already dead. |
| As I Lay Dying What really happens when we die? |