"Can anyone show the class how to find x?" I look around at everyone in class, and see nobody raise their hand. Mr. Low's eyes search for an eager volunteer, but is met with nothing but bored kids. He sighs. "Well, I guess I'll have to draw sticks, then."
I feel anxiety bubble up in my stomach. I've already come to hate the sticks. Because it's only the first day of school, I haven't been called on with them, but it's only a matter of time until I am.
Mr. Low grabs the small bucket of sticks that have the class's names on it, and closes his eyes and randomly chooses one. "Jamie, it's you. Please come up to the board and explain how to solve the equation. Remember that you're not looking for the angle measurement, but x, so the equation is shorter."
I feel my whole body freeze. It's so incredibly stupid, but I'm scared. "Do I have to come up to the board? Can't I explain it in my seat?" He shakes his head. "You need to write it down so everyone can see."
"Okay." I gather the small amount of courage in me and make my way to the white board in the front of the class. I can feel everyone's eyes on me, but I ignore that. Why am I so afraid of them?
I pick up the blue marker to start solving the equation, but then I hear the door being opened. I glance back and see a boy. He looks really angry. So angry that it makes me nervous. The door slams behind him and he pulls something out of his backpack roughly. I can see that it's silver.
My mind clicks and I realize what it is. It's a gun! He has a gun! Oh my God! Oh my God!
I gasp and hear a few people scream. I want to scream too, but all the air in my lungs has been sucked away. People run to the other side of the room in a panic, but I stay where I am, in shock. I couldn't move if I wanted to. Is this really happening? It can't be. Oh my God!
The boy is super skinny and has brown, long, scraggly hair. He's average looking, and doesn't seem to stand out. The gun in his hand is shaking, and it's pointed directly at the teacher. There's something that stands out in a crowd.
"Thomas, please, don't..." I hear Mr. Low whisper. My mind is still wraping around the fact that this boy has something in his hand that could kill any one of us. Something that could end our lives on Earth. Take us to our final destination.
It's just all too real.
"Shut up! Stop talking!" Thomas screams, his gun directly aimed at Mr. Low's head. A few girls—and one or two guys—whimper at his sudden outburst, but other than that, nobody speaks. The only sound is Thomas's labored breathing. From where I am, I can see beads of sweat on his pale forehead. I know I need to do something. What do I even plan to do?
I swallow back my crippling fear and take a tentative step towards him. That one step grabs his attention and he points the gun at me now, aimed right for my head. I almost cowardly apologize and step back, but I decide not to. All I want to do is run for the door. What should I do?
"Thomas, will you talk to me?" I calmly ask, making sure my voice doesn't break. I sound a lot more in control than I really am. I mentally pat myself on the back. "No!" he yells, and I can see spit fly out of his mouth, onto the floor. Anything I say can set him off even more.
"Fine, that's okay. I'll just speak and you listen. I want to let you know that we're not mad at you. You're just upset, I get it. What you're doing, though, is not okay. You can make it better, though." I'm surprised that I haven't fainted yet. My legs are trembling. "Stop it! Stop talking!"
I continue, no matter how much I don't want to. No matter how much my legs shake.
"You can make it better by giving me the gun. Please, just give it to me."
"No!" he yells. He shoots the gun in the air three times, making people scream, even myself. "Thomas! Please! Calm down!" His chest is heaving up and down. I slowly, carefully walk closer to him. This is insane. Why isn't anyone helping me?
"Please, Thomas. I think somewhere inside you, you know this isn't right. You know that you need to give me the handgun." He points it at me again. My heart leaps. His eyes stare into mine, and I think I see some of his resistance wearing off.
"I'm so tired of all of this," he sighs. I'm finally getting somewhere with him. Maybe. "I understand, Thomas. I really do. Please just give it to me." In the quiet of the classroom, I can hear sirens from outside. Thomas closes his eyes for a moment and then opens them.
I see something in his eyes that frightens me to the core. It's as if the last bit of good left in him was ripped away in those few seconds. Nothing but pure, raging anger is left. "No!"
I hear a loud noise, and then the only thing I see is the dark.
