“The cafeteria was nearly empty when I got to lunch.” My voice cracked, and I hated how weak I sounded. “I can still smell the sloppy joes we had that day. I remember being excited because my mom never made those at home. She barely knew how to cook anything, so we always had mac and cheese or hotdogs.” I smiled sardonically as I looked down at my Chuck Taylors. My new pair, which I wore today, were blue. The ones I’d worn in high school were white.
“When you grow up where I did, you learn to appreciate the little things. Anyway…” I shook my head. I’d gotten sidetracked. I glanced at Abel. His eyes were fixed on me, and only concern marred his beautiful face. “Shelly sought me out again. It was like a favorite hobby of hers to torture me.” I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t hide the pain I felt at the memory. I took my seat as I prepared to relive that painful day.
“I see you haven’t killed yourself yet. Pity,’” she said with a glare. I swallowed against the lump in my throat.
“Please don’t. Not today, Shelly,” I begged, hoping for once that she could see the pain I was in. Fighting with my mom and now knowing I would lose Brock in only a few days—I couldn’t handle any more than that.
“Oh, how cute. You think I care.” Her lips formed an evil smirk. I jumped, as it sounded like one of the cafeteria doors slammed closed, but Shelly just looked at me, sadness and confusion replacing her wicked grin.
“Shelly?” I said, and her hand went to the table. As my eyes fell, I saw her pink fitted Polo shirt begin to turn red around her shoulder. “Shelly?” I said with more panic as the loud slamming sound grew. The next thing I knew, it was chaos. The sounds of screaming filled the air, punctuated by the ear‐ piercing bangs that rumbled like thunder through the cavernous space.
I slid under the bench seat of the table, and my eyes locked with Shelly’s. She looked oddly peaceful, in shock maybe. I reached for her hand and helped her crawl under the table beside me as my hand went to her damp, crimson shoulder.
“What’s happening?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“I don’t know.”
“It hurts.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks, and I pulled her in for a hug. It was a strange feeling, hugging the girl who, just the day before, had made me contemplate killing myself. Her fingers dug painfully into my sides as my thoughts raced.
Bang.
Screams.
Bang.
Someone fell beside the table, and I recognized the lifeless eyes of Danny London, his eyes fixed on mine, unmoving.
Whoever was shooting was yelling over the noise, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying until a pair of old, worn black boots stepped next to Danny’s body. They kicked at his side, and he didn’t move. I struggled to hold my breath as Shelly cried cry hysterically. I put my hand over her mouth just as the gunman sunk to his knees and bent his head down.
I stared into Brock’s stormy gray eyes as confusion and anger flashed across his face.
“Bird, you weren’t supposed to be here.” His voice was eerily calm, like the way he used to talk to me in the shelter when I’d been upset.
I squeezed Shelly tighter as my heart seized in my chest. The pain was excruciating. I opened my mouth, trying to find words, but Brock placed his finger over his lips to tell me to be quiet as he winked and stood up.
More shots rang out, and I tasted bile as it rose in my throat. I pried Shelly’s fingers from my skin. Her face was gray, and her breathing was shallow.
“Be very quiet,” I said, as I brushed her blood‐sticky hair from her face. “I have to…” A sob ripped through my chest. “I have to go help.” My words were garbled from the next sob as I struggled not to completely lose my mind.
Two minutes ago I hated this girl, and for reasons unknown, she hated me. Now I was trying to comfort her. I gripped the bench seat with shaky hands as I pulled myself up between it and the table. Crowds of people blocked the doorway as they struggled to flee the cafeteria. That just made them a bigger target. I screamed, but I couldn’t even hear my own voice. The smell of cafeteria food and the blood that was smeared across my body was turning my stomach, and I had to stop myself from retching. Someone had bumped against one of the light switches, and half the room was now dark.
“Brock…” My voice broke, and the wind was knocked from my lungs as I was pushed to the floor. A boy I didn’t know gave me an apologetic look as he stepped on my hand and ran for the doorway.
Tears streamed down my face, as I tripped on the cold tile floor and gripped my stomach.
My arms wrapped tightly around my stomach as I rocked in my chair, oblivious to how insane I must have looked.