High School Pt.3

High+School+Pt.3

Syd Turner, Writer

 I took in a shaky breath.

“Someone was calling 9-1-1.” I turned around hoping the thing that was held to the back of my head wasn’t what I thought it was. I closed my eyes and handed him the phone, covered in the blood from my torn up hand. On the screen showed the number typed in 9-1-1, no one had pressed send. I wished I had thought. Then my friends could have gotten out of this mess. I might not have made it out alive, but at least I would have perished with peace of mind that no one was hurt and these monsters would be halfway to a prison in the middle of an ocean in the middle of a volcano. With no way of getting out besides death. I don’t think they invented those though. So I did what I knew how to do best, survive. I opened my eyes and the man was holding the phone, turning the power off button.

“Phone people, I need your phones!” A middle-sized raider barked. I pulled out my phone, feeling the pop socket on my ripped flesh. I gave it to the man behind me. He dropped it and smashed it with his sneaker. I looked at it, bright green and blue Nikes. Something about those seems familiar. I went back to my seat, still in shock of what had just happened. I saved someone’s life, possibly at the risk of my own. Mia and Jordan stared at me like I was a saint bathing in angels tears wearing pure white. But I wasn’t, I was just as bad as the devil. I didn’t do that to save that kid. I didn’t want him to call 9-1-1. I don’t know why. It was a gut feeling. Like the ones that you get when you know you should be doing homework instead of being on your phone but you do it anyway.

I’m a criminal. I thought we could have been free already. Although if I didn’t get the kid I could have also been a murderer. What was I? What purpose do I have in this? Why me. Bad things always happen to me. That’s when it hit me. I bought my dad bright green and blue sneakers three days ago for his birthday, he wore them to work today. His car was outside when I walked into the classroom for Climate change.

“Dad?” I muttered. The short one looks up and takes off his mask.