A soft jingle rang down the almost empty hallway. Some stragglers hurried to class while others walked slower, hoping to miss as much time as possible. She walked slowly, carefully, each footstep meticulously thought out and each movement as soft and silky as a slow flowing stream. The only sound she made was the jingle of charms that hung on the silver bracelet wrapped around her wrist. She tucked a rebel strand of hair behind her ear as she walked into her classroom. Eyes followed her as she sat in her seat and they lingered as she unpacked her bag, pulling out a notebook and a black pen.
The class rolled by sluggishly. Every now and then a head that had rested heavily on an arm would fall, abruptly waking up the dozing student. People chatted around her in between words said by the teacher. Notes were passed back and forth like cliche high school movies. She tried to stay above it all, she listened as best she could to the drone of the teacher and she didn’t slump with tiredness as most kids did.
When the bell rang, students burst from their seats and ran out the door. She followed behind a group of tall girls, her bracelet making soft music. The girls in front of her had long legs wrapped in tight fabric that accentuated every curve. They all had long hair in varying tones of blonde, one platinum, one honeyed, another dirty. She loved watching them walk, the soft sway of their hips, the bounce to their hair, the way they leaned forward while they let out chirps of laughter, the way their hands flew to their mouths, the way their brightly colored lips stretched into pretty grins, revealing blindingly white teeth. She liked most of all that this group didn’t throw worried glances in her direction as they walked. She enjoyed the feeling of being unnoticed, the idea that if she only traveled a little closer to them that she could almost be part of their group. Of course, she wasn’t, and she knew she didn’t really want to be.
Feet raced down the stairs as kids hurried to the lunchroom, hoping to find their friends and get a seat in a corner where they could survey others while staying hidden. She looked for an empty table, or at least one that wouldn’t mind her sitting with them, albeit a little distanced. Table after table of unfamiliar and unfriendly faces swam before her vision, she was about to turn around and walk the hallways all period when a short girl with mousy brown hair jumped into her vision.
“Hey, um, it's Sam, right? I’m Laura, I just, um, wanted to know if you needed a chair?” The girl, Laura, gripped her hands together tightly as nerves ran down her spine. Sam looked her over more carefully. She wore a simple red dress, thin glasses, and an overlarge backpack.
“Are you being serious?” Sam asked, she resisted the urge to raise her eyebrow sarcastically.
“Yes.” Other students flowed around them, casting curious and dirty glances.
“No, I think I’ll be alright, thanks.” Sam kept her tone flat and watched as Laura’s hopeful face fell into disappointment and a tiny bit of confusion. She must have been about to say something because her mouth had started to open before it closed abruptly at the sound of a gunshot.
Bullet holes littered the ceiling as everyone dropped to the floor in panic, leaving only a lanky boy standing. He was scrawny, but he appeared larger with the bullet proof vest strapped around him and several weapons hanging off his body. In one hand he held an assault rifle, in the other, a pistol. He smiled wide as he looked around at the terrified faces, he lowered the tip of his pistol so that it was pointed at the face of a girl who screamed in terror. He gave a low, throaty laugh before shooting the girl in the thigh. She cried out in pain, grabbing at her leg. Her hands were covered in blood within seconds. Nobody moved to help her, they were all too terrified, too selfish for their own lives.
Sam stood up slowly, eyes turned to her and Laura tried to tug her back to the floor. The boy’s back was too her. She shook off Laura’s pleading hands and walked forward, she would have been able to surprise the boy if her bracelet had not given her away. The boy whirled around and with a wild look in his dark green eyes he emptied the pistol’s clip into her chest. She stumbled back with the force of the shots. Several screams echoed around her but they were far away. She looked down at her chest and watched as the holes in her skin closed up once more, leaving brand new flesh. She looked back at the boy whose eyes widened. He blinked quickly several times, making sure he wasn’t hallucinating. She walked forward again. This time he shot her in the center of her forehead.
She closed her eyes as the bullet dug into her scalp. She breathed in as it ripped through her brain and tore a hole out of the back of her head. She breathed out as the wound closed. She opened her eyes and lunged at the boy, grabbing a gun holstered to his hip. She knocked him to the ground and pinned down his upper body with her knees. Pressing the gun against his head, she pulled the triggered. She watched as the blood pooled around his head like a halo. She watched as the hole did not close. She dropped the gun and in the shock that followed she slipped out one of the glass doors of the lunchroom and she ran.
The wind ran its cool fingers through her hair as she raced through trees and backyards. Her shoes sank into the freshly wet earth. Water gurgled and fell into drainage grates. She leaped over puddles and only looked half a mess as she dashed into the jewelry store like a hurricane.
Later, they would clear away the motionless body of the boy still covered in blood and fear. They would find no fingerprints on the weapon that killed him. They would find out that the records for the girl who killed him were never there. The girl named Sam never existed, at least not by that name. She now walked through a supermarket with a fake list. Her eyes would roam over every face that passed. Her bracelet would jingle, a little heavier now with a new charm that was the deep green of a troubled dead boy’s eyes.
The class rolled by sluggishly. Every now and then a head that had rested heavily on an arm would fall, abruptly waking up the dozing student. People chatted around her in between words said by the teacher. Notes were passed back and forth like cliche high school movies. She tried to stay above it all, she listened as best she could to the drone of the teacher and she didn’t slump with tiredness as most kids did.
When the bell rang, students burst from their seats and ran out the door. She followed behind a group of tall girls, her bracelet making soft music. The girls in front of her had long legs wrapped in tight fabric that accentuated every curve. They all had long hair in varying tones of blonde, one platinum, one honeyed, another dirty. She loved watching them walk, the soft sway of their hips, the bounce to their hair, the way they leaned forward while they let out chirps of laughter, the way their hands flew to their mouths, the way their brightly colored lips stretched into pretty grins, revealing blindingly white teeth. She liked most of all that this group didn’t throw worried glances in her direction as they walked. She enjoyed the feeling of being unnoticed, the idea that if she only traveled a little closer to them that she could almost be part of their group. Of course, she wasn’t, and she knew she didn’t really want to be.
Feet raced down the stairs as kids hurried to the lunchroom, hoping to find their friends and get a seat in a corner where they could survey others while staying hidden. She looked for an empty table, or at least one that wouldn’t mind her sitting with them, albeit a little distanced. Table after table of unfamiliar and unfriendly faces swam before her vision, she was about to turn around and walk the hallways all period when a short girl with mousy brown hair jumped into her vision.
“Hey, um, it's Sam, right? I’m Laura, I just, um, wanted to know if you needed a chair?” The girl, Laura, gripped her hands together tightly as nerves ran down her spine. Sam looked her over more carefully. She wore a simple red dress, thin glasses, and an overlarge backpack.
“Are you being serious?” Sam asked, she resisted the urge to raise her eyebrow sarcastically.
“Yes.” Other students flowed around them, casting curious and dirty glances.
“No, I think I’ll be alright, thanks.” Sam kept her tone flat and watched as Laura’s hopeful face fell into disappointment and a tiny bit of confusion. She must have been about to say something because her mouth had started to open before it closed abruptly at the sound of a gunshot.
Bullet holes littered the ceiling as everyone dropped to the floor in panic, leaving only a lanky boy standing. He was scrawny, but he appeared larger with the bullet proof vest strapped around him and several weapons hanging off his body. In one hand he held an assault rifle, in the other, a pistol. He smiled wide as he looked around at the terrified faces, he lowered the tip of his pistol so that it was pointed at the face of a girl who screamed in terror. He gave a low, throaty laugh before shooting the girl in the thigh. She cried out in pain, grabbing at her leg. Her hands were covered in blood within seconds. Nobody moved to help her, they were all too terrified, too selfish for their own lives.
Sam stood up slowly, eyes turned to her and Laura tried to tug her back to the floor. The boy’s back was too her. She shook off Laura’s pleading hands and walked forward, she would have been able to surprise the boy if her bracelet had not given her away. The boy whirled around and with a wild look in his dark green eyes he emptied the pistol’s clip into her chest. She stumbled back with the force of the shots. Several screams echoed around her but they were far away. She looked down at her chest and watched as the holes in her skin closed up once more, leaving brand new flesh. She looked back at the boy whose eyes widened. He blinked quickly several times, making sure he wasn’t hallucinating. She walked forward again. This time he shot her in the center of her forehead.
She closed her eyes as the bullet dug into her scalp. She breathed in as it ripped through her brain and tore a hole out of the back of her head. She breathed out as the wound closed. She opened her eyes and lunged at the boy, grabbing a gun holstered to his hip. She knocked him to the ground and pinned down his upper body with her knees. Pressing the gun against his head, she pulled the triggered. She watched as the blood pooled around his head like a halo. She watched as the hole did not close. She dropped the gun and in the shock that followed she slipped out one of the glass doors of the lunchroom and she ran.
The wind ran its cool fingers through her hair as she raced through trees and backyards. Her shoes sank into the freshly wet earth. Water gurgled and fell into drainage grates. She leaped over puddles and only looked half a mess as she dashed into the jewelry store like a hurricane.
Later, they would clear away the motionless body of the boy still covered in blood and fear. They would find no fingerprints on the weapon that killed him. They would find out that the records for the girl who killed him were never there. The girl named Sam never existed, at least not by that name. She now walked through a supermarket with a fake list. Her eyes would roam over every face that passed. Her bracelet would jingle, a little heavier now with a new charm that was the deep green of a troubled dead boy’s eyes.