Script

Chapter 3: Reflections

3; Reflections.   

    It turns out that school will require supplies and new clothing, athough I don't understand why, I already have enough clothes.  Yet Sandi still demands that a few weeks before school begins I go shopping with her.  So that's why I was awoken at nine in the morning, forced to get ready and drive back to the mall.

"Clothes will come last, let's go to the office supplies," she held my hand tightly and pulled me towards another store.

"Sandi, could I maybe..." I stopped for a moment, Sandi was helpful and kept me safe but her constant care had been stifling.  "I'd like to go look at some clothes on my own."

"You want to go off on your own?"  Sandi said, seeming shocked.  I looked down, staring at my shiny black converse, barely worn, I expected her to say no.  "Alright," now she seemed pleasantly surprised.  "Here's some money, try not to spend it on anything over fifty dollars, I'll meet you in the food court, if you get lost there are maps every few feet and you can always ask someone working at the store for directions, stay safe," she gave my hand a little squeeze before letting go, she handed me a wad of green bills and with a shaky smile she waved, as if I would never see her again.  She called after me, "and don't talk to strangers!  Only ask people in uniform for help!  Don't wander too far, and try to hurry!" I shooed her away, which finally made her stop talking.

        Although the building was daunting, with it's swirling crowds and confusing twists and turns, my stomach bubbled with excitement at the prospect of freedom.  I walked along, a skip in my step, the leather messanger bag bumping against my skinny jeans, inside was a ridiculous amount of things, mostly books and a notepad with the blue lined pages tinted yellow, also with a set of four pens, three black one blue.  The money was in my jacket pocket, I nervously kept checking to make sure it was there.  The large corridor with it's towering ceiling echoed with the footsteps of hundreds of people and their chattering voices, each with their own destinations.  Part of me regretted leaving Sandi, since I knew I had to buy something yet I felt it was a waste since I didn't really need anything new.  I wandered down a smaller hallway that led to a different region of the mall.

        I didn't have the chance to make a discision when I felt a strange slight tugging on my bag, for a second I dismissed it as someone bumping into me but that didn't make sense, I glanced over and saw someone trying to take something from my bag.  I let out a screech and the culprit flinched back.

"How dare you!"  I yanked my bag away and prompty started hitting him with it.  He was a boy around my age and didn't appear poor. He was tall and lean and the black leather jacket her wore hung off his oddly broad shoulders.  I didn't get the chance to look at his face properly, I was too busy yelling at him.  The corridor was deserted back here except for a boy and a girl who looked very similar who were snickering a few yards away as I beat their companion with the heavy book filled bag.

"Jeez calm down it's just a bag!"  He ducked away as I furiously beat him with the leather bag, his hands covered his head as I slammed the bag against him.  "What the hell do you have in there, rocks?!"

"It doesn't matter what's in the bag, you aren't getting it!"  I shouted, now kicking him as he hunched down.

"Why can't you just call the police like a normal person?!"  He grumbled, and yelped out in pain. I reduced the force in my attacks.

"I am not in danger, I merely need to seek vengence!"  I said, he almost seemed to cower away from me as I raised the bag above my head, prepared to slam the corner of a hardback novel into his head.

"Just calm down!"  He stood, looking shocked and flustered.  That was when I got a good look at his face.  His cheek bones framed his well structured face, the same blonde-brown curls jutted out from his head. Startling blue-green eyes like the sea, although slightly bluer.  They were terrifyingly familier to the eyes of an old friend, maybe more than friends. He was him.