by M.J. Fontana
particular as I step over numerous lifeless bodies just to get to the end of the hallway.
“Well we started with 37 people before the attack and now we’re down to 10,” Mike say’s shaking his head. “The only positive is the resistance for those who support not going after Fontane should be lighter if not at all,” says Justin. “There is no other positive we killed our fellow classmates instead of going after who we really should’ve been going after,” I shout. “You don’t think I fucking know that! We did this for you. They were going to kill you! We couldn’t let that happen. Don’t you fucking see that you and Leo started something? Leo’s dead but you’re not, if we lose you no one will ever stand up against Fontane again,” Justin shouts back. I have not thought of myself as a symbol to stand up against the corrupt before.
“I’m sorry it’s been a rough day,” I say. “For all of us,” Samantha says setting up logs she collected to start a fire.
I sit by myself away from the camp fire on the same snow covered log Colt sat on earlier reflecting on all the ones who were lost today. I like to think that Colt is happily reunited with Nicole in heaven. I notice a pack of deer in the distance. A baby deer struggles to walk in the snow as it makes an effort to catch up with the rest of its family.
19
The month has been peaceful for the school compared to previous months. Security has been tightened in the hallways. The vicinity of the school which consisted of Fontane’s compound and what we thought contained Fontane is now abandoned, and his whereabouts are not yet known. To get through the remaining months of the school year, our team’s primary goal has shifted to making sure other attacks don’t occur.
“Maybe he’s dead,” a team member says entering the abandoned classroom. I look out from the shattered window, the warm March breeze whistling past me assures me that spring is arriving. “I don’t think he is,” I say finally.
Students who still cling onto the belief that good will prevail arrive into the vast and unfilled auditorium. The students are seated spread out from each other since an abundant amount of empty seats remain.
A month since the school went to war with itself; the school is still picking up the pieces left. Division among students is still prevalent, as violence still occurs though on rarer occasion.
I walk onto the auditorium stage not the least surprised by the limited amount of students whom decided to show up. I stand at the podium looking out at the faces of the crowd. I don’t hear anything but my left chest is in sudden pain, blood is falling onto the stage on which I stand.
I slam hard onto the ground as Justin unsuspectedly tackles me. I hear shouts and screams as I lay on my back on the stage.
I open my eyes to the sight of Justin knelling close to me. “Where am I, what happened,” I ask perplexed. “You’ve been shot,” Justin says observing me closely. “We have a shooter in the auditorium, assistance needed,” Justin shouts frantically through his headset. I hear more gunshots and screams. “Stay here,” Justin demands me. My eyes start to close.
My eyes reopen. “Look whose finally up,” Justin says looking down at me from the floor. “What happened, the auditorium, what happened,” I ask. “Some nut who believed that killing you is the answer to the Fontane problem tried to kill you. I lift myself up from the floor. “How many people died,” I ask. “Only 3 are dead, around 15 got injured,” he replies. “Only 3?” “I’m sorry, after this school year 3 seems like such a small number, I hate myself for having that mindset,” Justin says.
“Why are these people listening to Fontane? And why would they try to kill me while the school has been in moderate peace for the past month. Fontane has not attacked. It has only been our own students doing the attacking,” I say.
“At first it could have been because they were scared and believed or wanted to believe that giving into his threat will solve everything. Now it may be because we killed their friends or loved ones in the war. Heck Fontane doesn’t have to do anything. He already has the school against each other,” Justin says. I grimace while I touch my gun wound. “Yeah you may not want to touch that. Fortunately, you’re going to be okay though.”
“Thank you by the way,” I say. “For saving me out there,” I finish. Justin waves his hand at me, “Don’t thank me,” he says.
I get into the front passenger seat of Justin’s car. We drive past the campus baseball field on the driver’s side. “Colt was my best friend growing up. We use to always go this field at the park near our house to play baseball. Passing that field reminds me of him every day. We grew apart as the years went along. Not that we hated each other, we just befriended different people and hung out less and less and less until we didn’t hang out at all,” Justin tells me.
“I used to have a best friend. We would hang out and come up with one crazy thing to do after another. There was this one time we tied a rope to my bike and my best friend, Mike, held the rope sitting on a skateboard behind the bike, while I rode down this steep hill. Let’s just say it didn’t end that well, but we laughed about it for months,” I say laughing. “What happened to him?” “He moved. At first we communicated by phone but that became less frequent and then eventually not at all. I have pretty much the same friends since I was younger because I’m so quiet,” I say.
“I don’t get the impression that you’re a quiet,” Justin says. “If you knew me before you wouldn’t agree with that,” I say. “Maybe, but life is about making improvements. Your still in high school, you’ll continue to grow and become the person you’re comfortable being. Trust me I’m a junior and I have learnt so much about myself since I started high school and I’m finally comfortable with whom I am.” Justin says.
20
Back from a walk around the development with Kayla, I take her hand and lead her into the kitchen. “You know you mean so much to me,” I say. I knee down in front of her with one legged propped up. She looks down at me, her green eyes glistening in the sunlight. I extend my right hand into my pocket. “Kayla, will you?” She cups her hands over her mouth. “Let me be your prom date.” She takes a deep breath. “I thought you were going to ask me to marry you. And yes I want to go to prom with you,” she says. I get up from the floor and hand her two prom tickets. I never liked dancing, but I didn’t want Kayla, who is a senior to miss out on a memorable and special night. I place my hands on her back and lean in closer to kiss her. “I really can’t wait to go, I love you,” she says. “I love you too,” I say back without any hesitation. We hear her parents enter from the front door, so we move a short distance away from each other. “What are you love birds up to today,” Kayla’s mom asks carrying grocery bags in her hands. “Just hanging out, are there any other bags I could bring in for you,” I ask. “Actually, yes there are a few more in my trunk,” she says. “I’ll bring them in,” I say.
“Justin,” I call out from the opposite end of the hallway. “What’s up,” he shouts. He walks toward me lowering his gun. “How is it in this part of the school,” I ask. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” he says. “The little civil war has calmed down. Still no sign or clue to Joey Fontane’s whereabouts though. Did you really come here to check on me?” “I been checking with everybody, it’s been too quiet. Not that I’m complaining about it, but it doesn’t make any sense,” I say. “Well the security has been good, so I wouldn’t worry too much,” Justin assures me. “People like Fontane don’t just go down quietly,” I say.
“Follow that car,” I yell frantically at Justin from the passenger seat. My body slams against the car door as the car makes a sharp right turn at the last second. I rush out of the car as soon as Justin parks the car at an old pub. “Bruce,” I shout. “Following me I see,” he says. I walk up to him, as his driver opens the pub door for us. He takes off his sunglasses as we enter a dim lit pub. Bruce and his driver both take a seat in a booth. I sit opposite of them. “What do you want to drink,” Bruce ask me. “No, I’m not.” He cuts me off and shouts for four Boston Lagers. “Br
uce, you must know where Fontane is hiding.” He laughs. “Joey Fontane is not hiding just because you can’t find him,” Bruce says. “He hasn’t retaliated in nearly a month after turning the school against itself,” Justin adds. “And your proud of that,” Bruce asks. An attractive woman wearing a pink bralette top with white shorts places four Boston lagers on the table. “Bruce, where is he,” I repeat. “You know when I was the Student Body President; my student death toll was slightly lower than yours. No, wait now that I fucking think of it, it was way lower compared to your little campaign. And yet, I’m the one with the corrupt reputation,” Bruce says. He picks up his lager and takes a gulp.
“Bruce, at this moment I’m not talking morals. I just want to know where Fontane is,” I say. Bruce takes another gulp of his lager. “Now that you witnessed what Fontane is capable of, who was right me or you,” Bruce asks. “You were right Bruce, you were right this whole god dam time.” Justin turns his head around and studies me with his eyes. “Even if we kill Fontane, it will never make up for the amount of innocent lives that were lost. Innocent people who will never experience graduating from high school, experiencing college,
