Zipped

1: The Zipper

“I will. Bye, Molly,” Elsie said, hugging me. “Bye Tommy. See you after school.” She hugged Thomas too, and then ran into the building.

I watched her go, a small smile on my lips. “She’s such a sweetheart,” I told my brother, smiling.

“She really is,” Thomas agreed with a smile. He then said, “Come on, Molly. We’ve got to get to school.” He looked down at the watch on his wrist and his eyes widened. “And it starts in ten minutes,” he said.

I cursed under my breath. Why did I let this happen? “Well, then let’s run!” I exclaimed, and we both started off at a sprint down the street. Sadly, this routine of running to school to make it before final bell was pretty normal in this family. We always spend so much time walking with Elsie that we almost don’t make it to class.

We both sprinted into the building at top speed, and skid down the halls. We don’t even stop at our lockers to drop our stuff off. We just run, and slide into our classrooms just as the bell rings.

“Mr. and Miss Wagner,” our teacher began, and I felt my cheeks heat up in the embarrassment I’m feeling. This, again, is a normal feeling.

“We made it before the bell,” Thomas reminds the man, and I nod in agreement. “So, we’re fine.”

“Yes, I guess you are,” the teacher says. “Go take a seat.” He obviously isn’t happy that he has to do this for us, but I’m grateful this happened. I went to my seat in the middle of the classroom and plop down into the desk, pulling out the notes from last night’s reading.

The boy in front of me leaned back to tell me something. “You and your brother are lucky,” he told me.

“Why?” I asked him.

“Because Mr. P. doesn’t complain about you guys. You get it easy,” he told me.

“Mr. Robertson!” Mr. P. calls out. “Be quiet, and review your notes!”

“Yes, sir,” the guy said, looking down at his paper. I looked down at the sheet too, and found my notes. Our reading last night had been about the zipper. It all came back to the zipper. What we had to do was do some reading, and then come up with the conclusion whether to keep using it as part of a death penalty or to zip it up and keep it closed forever. My side was obvious, even without the reading.

It needed to stop. It needed to stop right now. It was barbaric and cruel, in my opinion, letting them fall to their death. A bullet to the head or the heart would be quicker and painless, better for the people than falling and waiting to hit the ground and break their necks. Maybe, the death penalty should just be eradicated completely. It’d be better for everyone too, right? Nobody has to die!

Instead of reading my notes over again, I did something different. I imagined our city, Restless Isle, without the zipper. I imagined it without the penalty. I imagined it happy, free, and without any problems. I didn’t imagine it without any crime, since I knew this was impossible, but I imagined it without the huge crimes that in our society would warrant the death penalty.

Thomas looked over at me from the other side of the room, mouthing for me to get to work and stop daydreaming. His order only made me want to think about it more. My mind was already gone. It was gone with the innocent people who had been pushed into the pit for a crime that really hadn’t been committed by them.

“Miss Wagner…” Mr. P. called out to me again. And I was done. “Miss Wagner!”

I looked up at him. “Yes?” I asked.

“Are you reviewing the notes?”

“No, sir,” I said confidently.

“Oh? And why is that?” Mr. P. asked me.