Category : Stories

Sub Category : YoungAdult

      A loud crack rings throughout the halls of my school. As I sit in class, I glance at the twelve faces of my classmates  and I see the explosion still shaking them to the bone. However, as of now, they're not my classmates; nor my peers, friends, kids, or human beings. 
     They are now walking targets. 


     After the first explosion, I begin my ten-second countdown. The count needs to be slow and stay at a steady pace.  This mission is all about precision, accuracy, and above all—
     … revenge. 


     As I turn my head slightly to the left, I notice that I'm the only one in Mr. Finch's English class who's not looking out the window. From my desk I can see black clouds rising. They are lining up like black town cars in a funeral procession. While the kids spring from their desks and head to the windows for a glimpse of what happened, I gently place my ’80s-style headphones. I had found them at the antique shop where John had found actual grenades. They were real all right, just empty. John bought all five. I let out a sigh, blowing out the image of John’s face before I start crying and blow the whole mission. John’s mission, which became mine when they ridiculed him for the last time. It's payback time. 
           I press ’play’ on my MP3 player. The beginning piano plays Lou Reed’s "Perfect Day" as the second bomb placed in the front of the school detonates. 
           It shakes my desk, knocking my ring onto the floor, as well as chalk, erasers, markers, anything that was on the chalkboard. I jump, almost as if the explosion went off in here, since our class is located closer to the front of the main building. 
           "That’s two," I whisper as I pick up the ring. John’s ring. 
           The silver band with a mini grim reaper holding a scythe etched in black. It reminded John to never fear the reaper. 
           The other kids stand still and silent as they listen to dampened screams and shouts from outside. They each wear faces of confusion as to where they're coming from. The roof of the gymnasium finishes its collapse from the first blast into a bright orange glow where thick clouds of black swirl heavily into the air. I can't help but chuckle while I still sit quietly listening to Lou Reed serenade me. 


           Oh it's such a perfect day,
           I'm glad I spent it with you. 
           Oh such a perfect day,
           You just keep me hanging on.
           You just keep me hanging on…


           A boy known as "Lil’ Mike" grabs his bag and makes a run for the door. I knew Mike never liked the name, it being an oxymoron with his linebacker size. But it had stuck, so he'd lost any chance of going by his actual name for the remaining two years of school. Since he's a big guy, the rest of the class notices his escape and follow. All the while, I sit casually, motionless, at her desk... waiting.            
            Watching, as my peers pick up their precious belongings in horror. Unbelievable. The idiots. The feeble-mindedness of how they think about their school books when their lives are at stake. But when they get to the door, it doesn't open. It's jammed. 
            More confusing faces jolt around the room while they try to figure out why the door won't open. As they struggle in terror, I think of what Sammy might be thinking right now, knowing he is now an accomplice to whatever is going on. A mere five dollars was all it took to get him to jam two door stops outside of the door to the classroom. Five dollars for the deaths of thirteen innocent students and teacher. 
           Everything is going perfectly as planned. It's time for phase two. 


           My heart beats wildly. Arms shaking as I roll my sleeves up past my elbows. Why am I so nervous? Everything is going as planned. I breathe in deeply, then exhale. Then again, but as I exhale on this one, I whisper,
           “And... Go!"
           I reach into my black gym bag and pull out my main source of chaos and destruction. Nobody notices me still sitting, nor the jet black AR-15 that we stole from John’s uncle. I stand up, turn the volume up all the way on my MP3 player, and with assault rifle in hand, pull the handle back and aim it at the confused crowd of classmates still huddling by the door. And completely unaware of what is to become of them. 
          A girl screams, though I can't tell who it is. I know she saw me now that everyone turns toward me. While their faces become ghosts with the loss of blood, I can't help but smile as I yell, "Say cheese, assholes!" 
           I firmly squeeze the curved trigger. 


           Oh it's such a perfect day,
           I'm glad I spent it with you…