Annalise

Chapter 30: Chaos (Pt.1)

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Brendon's friend warned, his face casual as his words revealed he had foresight to something we had no clue of.

The slender six-foot giant falters in his steps, only making it to where I stood before halting completely.

"W-what does that mean?" He questioned cautiously, the room returning to its eerie silence as others listened in, curiosity clawing at them with sharp nails.

Brendon's friend smiled sickly sweet, too genuine for this type of situation to believe it was true.

Brendon, who was fighting off the shock of the news that wrapped itself around his face and blocked off his senses, came alive again. He straightened his back and took quick steps to the door.

"I don't know what the hell is going on with you, Seth, but anyone who wants to leave can leave," he asserted, clutching the handle and turning it swiftly.

He was in the process of swinging the door open when a boot connected harshly with the wood, forcefully kicking open the door for the intruder to enter. The force successfully shoved Brendon back, making him shuffle over his shoes.

The next thing anyone knew, a small black metal object revealed itself from the person's hand, their finger wrapped around the trigger in preparation for any sudden attack. With no time at all, the barrel of the dangerous weapon met the skin on Brendon's forehead while he regained balance.

High piercing screams burst from the throats of many students, one of those yells of fright coming from the basketball player next to me, his eyes practically rolling out of their sockets in fear that couldn't be contained or disguised.

I stared at the man pressing his gun to my friend's head, his steely blue eyes brutally chained onto my petrified ones.

Ricky.

*** Three Hours Before ***

Morning classes flew by, leaving us at noontime in the gym where multiple Thanksgiving activities were occurring. However, Alice, Hannah, Hayley and I found ourselves sitting at the top of the bleachers, all our backs leaning against the white brick wall.

From way up top, we could see the swarming bodies of teens and adults walking all around, some with plates of food containing corn, turkey, and mashed potatoes, which they got at the table set up every year to feed the students. Others were participating in the many games, like attempting to pin the tail on the turkey after being spun around. The rest were lurking about, waiting for the minutes to tick away until it announced the start of Thanksgiving break.

Amid the crowd were of course the gangs, who weren't absent as they usually were. Every single one of them I could remember made an appearance, but they were off to the side, their presence barely noticeable unless you paid attention, which most seem to lack at the moment. I guess even the Imperishables and Mortes had times when they just wanted to enjoy the holiday with peace.

Over to the far end of the gym, near the exit that leads to the parking lot, stood Ricky. A plain grey shirt was covering his broad chest, yet exposing his muscular arms and biceps as he had no long sleeves. I realized his muscles flexed often as he increasingly tightened his crossed arms, his reddish lips smacking away as he exchanged some words with Jose and Timothy.

Although no threat was looming over him, his face and guarded posture screamed anything but relax. Ricky's stormy blues had its common standoffish stare, one that slapped a warning label on him that read unapproachable in all upper caps.