Lies of a Story Teller

My Timeless Second

I can't believe that I have the oppurtunity to once more upload a story like this! Because guess what?! This is a -drumroll- English assignment! Whoot whoot! Anyways. . .TMC edited so yay for good grammer!

Also, Firebender_Zeke made the cover for this picture and you simply must go and find her and tell her how incredible she is at making covers! -FO97

Hal Schuyler was something that people with more authority than I like to call a “special case”. The reasons for this were sadly obvious. He was dirty blond with muddy brown hazel eyes. His nose was crooked and most of his teeth were cock-eyed. He skin was so pale as to almost be unhealthy and when he stood he slouched enough to lose significant inches, which was unfortunate because he wasn’t especially tall to begin with. Most of his shirts were torn and every pair of jeans I’d ever seen him wear resulted in showing three inches of his white socks underneath.

But the reason that Hal Schuyler was a special case went beyond the surface. Hal was the only student I knew (or knew of) that had to approach the teacher after class and tell them about his disabilities. Casual observation taught me that Hal had learning problems in reading, writing, and critical thinking. I also suspected that he had ADD or ADHD or both. In addition to these, Hal was unknowingly disruptive. Socially awkward, louder than he really knew he was being, asking all the wrong questions in all the wrong places. . .in short, the kid was a mess and it was only through a great force of will that he had made it to college. Well, that and a lot of perseverance on the part of his tutors. Hal was the sort of person who I had to both tolerate and sympathize with, knowing that it was not his own fault that he was that way. It was just the family that he had been born in to, the way that he was raised, and the only way he knew to be.

I’m telling you about Hal because eventually he becomes important. Right now, the only really important thing is the gunshot.

Bang!

The sound ricocheted violently through the corridors. Over five hundred students looked up from their homework, their books, their computers to stare with eyes the size of dinner plates at the doors of their classrooms, knowing what they heard, but not believing it.

I had been working on a in-class reading assignment at the time and was able to look up from my sheet in time to see a figure dressed in black pass by the rectangular window set in the door.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins and my heart rate doubled.

Dr. Hendenburg stood from her desk and walked to the door to peek out of the window. Satisfied, she turned to us.

“Everyone, get down underneath your desk. Please remain calm and stay quiet.-” Dr. Hendenburg was giving remarkably composed instructions to the class, but I couldn’t help but notice her hand shaking as she flicked the light switch to off.

A girl behind me was crying as I crouched down and slid underneath my desk. The linoleum was freezing on my skin and grit stuck to the palms of my hands where I braced myself. Somebody had called 911. “Yeah, I just heard a gunshot. . .a gunshot, coming from outside. . .no, I have no idea who it is. . .the address? Um, uh, I can’t. . .I can’t remember it right now. We’re at the college. . .”

The guy on the phone continued talking as the rest of us huddled under our desk and listening intently for more gunshots.

We didn’t have to wait long.

Bang! Bang!

Two shots this time in quick succession. A girl screamed somewhere in the distance. A sickening pit had formed in my stomach and cold sweat formed on my palms.