Caught in the Middle (lisamcmann)

Okay, Guys. So, this is my entry for the Lisa McMann contest! Tell me what you think!

I twisted my hair into a ponytail, tucking it under my cap and lowering the brim. Then I took a final look around the room full of strangers, wondering which of them would help me escape, and which would try to kill me. The cap was a Yankee’s souvenir that I found on the street one night. My light brown hair was only held by a rubber band that had come on a bag of chips that was in one of the care packages my cousin had secretly given to me.

I didn’t mean to come into this room. When you’re on the run, your mind plays tricks on your body. You do things that weren’t meant and you didn’t even realize you were doing them. It’s like a reflex. The only reason that I even thought about entering this building was because I hadn’t had any good, satisfying food in over a week. Food was limited.

This was life and death. Walking into this room could either be the best decision in my life, providing that someone would save me, or the worst decision in my life, providing that everyone in that room had seen me on the news and was as outraged as every other person on the planet. They believe the news reporters. Who wouldn’t? I had most of my life. Everything they say sounds true, but it’s not. Remember that the next time you hear a news reporter say something that doesn’t make any sense. It probably doesn’t.

I know what you want. You want to know what I’m talking about. Well, one thing that the reporters said that wasn’t true was that I blew up the President’s apartment. They said that I was the only one there, so it had to be true. Wait, scratch that. I was the only one there that was left alive.

I continued to secretly peak around the room, looking for key signs that anybody had actually noticed who I was. Luckily, the pictures on the new were from about three weeks ago, when I was well fed, well dressed, and well cleansed. No one seemed to notice that I was the “Young Assassin”. That was what they were calling me on the news. I saw it on a TV in the window of an electronics shop in Seattle.

Luckily, my bad decision had turned out to better than I thought. I knew that this was a banquet for some sports team or another, but I didn’t know that it was a buffet. I didn’t look too out of place in the crowd. It was only a little league banquet of some sort. I could be mistaken for an older sister or a cousin. So I started taking food from the buffet. I filled up a plate quickly and went to sit down at a table. I searched for one that was in a back corner without much light and from which I could watch everyone in the room. I wanted to make sure there were no sneak attacks on me.

When I finally found my table, I sat down and started digging in to my food. I won’t describe the taste of the food or how good it tasted, because I’m sure you’ve heard that from starving people before. Just think back to the last time you read that and apply it to me. Although, I must say, this food was better than anything I had ever tasted. My parents didn’t cook gourmet food for me, even before they disowned me because I became “The Young Assassin”.

As I enjoyed my food, I started to forget that I was in a room full of people who could recognize me any second and call the police. And, like any time someone forgets that, it came back to haunt me. As I set my fork down so I could use my napkin, someone wrapped their arms around my waist and started to pull me away from the table and into the corner.

It was at this time that I locked eyes with Connor, my family’s close friend that had moved away and settled down with a family. He saw the arms around my waist, I’m sure, and dropped his plate of food. He started to run in my direction, but I knew he wouldn’t make it. The room was just too big and the person carrying me wasn’t moving slowly, that’s for sure. I was whisked away, behind my chair and into a door that was hidden by the lack of light.

The man holding me closed the door and quickly threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I suppose he thought it would be easier to run this way. He started to jog down the hallway.

“I didn’t do it, you nincompoop,” I muttered. “It wasn’t me.”

“Miss, please don’t argue with me. We all know that you did it. It’s the only possible explanation. I never knew that a fifteen year old could have such political beliefs. Just be quiet and pay for what you did, okay?” The man, or should I say boy, said. He sounded around twenty-five.

I heard the door behind us open again, so I started talking so the boy wouldn’t hear that someone had followed us.

“Listen, I didn’t do it. Yes, I was standing on the sidewalk afterward and I was the only one around, but that was because I was shocked. When you watch a building go up in flames and explode like that you’re not exactly calm about it. I know who did it. He got away.” As I explained this, the boy came to a stop. He put me down and looked me right in the eye.

“What are you talking about?” He asked. “There was no one else around the apartment complex at the time it exploded.”  I was just tall enough to take a quick look over his shoulder and see Connor coming up behind him.

“The man who did it set the bomb for a certain time. He asked me to meet him there at that time, but never showed. He wanted someone else to take the blame for the explosion,” I told the boy. I was scared now. I was scared of what would happen when I told. I could see Connor getting upset behind the boy.

“Who was it?” The boy asked, looking deep into my eyes.

“Turn around and you’ll see.” I said. He was hesitant, probably thinking that it was a trick so I could get away, but he finally did turn around. “Connor,” I said, “Please tell him the truth. I’m tired of doing this.”

“Don’t let her fool you,” Connor said. “She really did do it.”

The boy turned to me and picked me up, starting to walk back into the tunnel.

“Thanks, Man,” He called to Connor as we walked away.

“Yeah, thanks.” I repeated. "Thanks for deciding on the end of my life."