Killer of Giants

by Oliver Lockhart

hall to drama class. The muffled sound of Rupert’s ranting filtered through the wall as I turned the handle and eased open the door.

  Rupert’s eyes locked onto mine. “Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to our next performer, Strawberry Shortcake.”

  I slumped against the doorframe. Not going back to class hadn’t even occurred to me.

  “Come on, Miss Shortcake.” Rupert pumped his fist in the air. “It’s your time to shine.”

  Raj called out, “Break a leg, Strawberry.”

  “Shut up or I’ll break yours, Princess.” 

  9. Disintegration

  Raj and I pushed into the horde of students stampeding the hall. He shook his head and gave me a sly smile. “Your Strawberry Shortcake impersonation was berry sweet.”

  “My talent is wasted here. I need to be in Hollywood.”

  He took a half-empty pack of gum from his pocket. “So I’m guessing you chickened out on the plan?”

  I glanced over my shoulder and shook my head.

  He stopped dead and opened his mouth. “Are you serious?” A freshman girl stumbled into his back. She adjusted her glasses and gave him an evil before moving on. Getting caught up in the crowd, Raj started down the hall again. “You really did it? Are you sure it was his phone?”

  “It was in his bag.”

  “Did anyone see?”

  “Just Benny Krumbert, but he’s clueless. Oh, and Delroy – he was all banzai about me trying out for the team.”

  Raj blinked and frowned, like he was confused. “Delroy too? Hopefully they won’t tell anyone you were being creeper in the locker room.”

  We walked through the door at the end of the hall. The cafeteria had erupted into a frenzy of two hundred students talking, eating, clanking, and squeaking chairs across the floor. A line of tray holders waited at the counter for a serving of bulletproof meatloaf and soupy mash. The smell of boiled cabbage wafted from the kitchen.

  As far as seating arrangements worked, the distance from your table to the kitchen was decided by your status. Freshmen and drama kids kept a low profile in the rows next to the kitchen. Behind them, goths and emos listened to iPods and compared the blackness of their jeans. From there it was rockers, indies, skaters, and stoners gazing into the distance with bloodshot eyes. Jocks filled the next row, and then it was the thugs and crims. At the far end, at the top of the food chain, Brittany Ryerson sat with her friend Aisha.

  I tapped Raj’s arm and pointed at a table in freshmen territory. “Let’s keep our distance.”

  “I’ve got another idea.” Without waiting, he started toward the back of the cafeteria, weaving between students and past a dozen tables to the second to last row, and dragged out a chair less than twenty yards from Brittany. I thought about leaving the cafeteria altogether, and then grudgingly followed.

  I took the chair next to him. “This is suicide. What are you doing?”

  He glanced at Brittany. “They’ll be too busy with their own problems to worry about us.”

  I peered back at her as she stared down at her phone. Aisha leaned over it, giggling with her hand to her mouth.

  At the front of the cafeteria, Gordie appeared at the door, leaning on his crutches. Allie walked up beside him and pulled the ribbon from her ponytail, letting her hair fall on her shoulders. Her eyes found mine and she gave a smile, and followed Gordie as he hobbled toward us. She’d been a good friend to him since he’d returned to school. That suited Raj and me – we weren’t big on talking about our feelings.

  A crease formed in Gordie’s brow as he neared our table. “Are you sure we should sit here?” He tipped his head sideways at Brittany.

  Raj pointed at the empty seats on our table. “You don’t want to miss this. Trust me.”

  A wise man probably once said to never trust someone who tells you to trust them.

  Gordie and Allie gave each other a look and slung their bags under the table.

  Behind us, Brittany looked at her phone again and screwed up her nose. Aisha ran her brush through her hair, grinning.

  Allie leaned to get a better view and gasped. “Chris! You didn’t?” A playful smile crept onto her face.

  “I kinda feel bad for Brittany,” I said in a low voice. “She didn’t do anything to us.”

  Allie’s smile faded. “My ass she didn’t. Last year she poured nail polish in my hair. I got her back though, made her sit on superglue in art class.”

  “I remember that,” Raj said. “Her skirt ripped when she stood up. She had to wear old sweatpants from lost property.”

  Raj sank into his chair. “Don’t look at who’s headed this way.”

  Across the cafeteria, heads turned as Kyle walked down the center aisle, running his fingers through his dark hair. Bundy followed with a vacant stare that made me wonder if the reason he didn’t talk was because his brain wasn’t connected to his face.

  Our table became a competition of who could look the most uncomfortable. Gordie fidgeted with his crutches, and Raj got busy pretending to look through his bag.

  Kyle dragged out the chair next to Brittany, acknowledging her with a nod, and slung his bag under the table. Bundy slumped into the chair next to him. Biting her lip, Brittany gave them a strained smile and glanced at Aisha, who was still grinning stupidly like the pinhead she was.

  It didn’t take Kyle long to notice the dopey look on her face. “What?”

  Aisha squealed with laughter and nudged Brittany’s arm. “Tell him!”

  Looking more annoyed than curious, Kyle studied Brittany’s expression. With a heavy sigh, Brittany lifted her phone for Kyle to see, her shoulders sinking as he scanned the screen. As relaxed as a kitten in a hammock, he leaned back in his chair and flicked his lighter. If there was one crime Kyle wasn’t guilty of, it was being predictable.

  Brittany raised an eyebrow at Aisha, and Bundy’s brow crinkled in confusion.

  Back at our table, Gordie shifted in his seat, and Raj stared blankly at his book.

  “He’s not even upset,” Allie said.

  Raj glanced at the cafeteria door and his eyes widened.

  Swaggering up the aisle like Captain Hook’s idiot son, Fink flared his nostrils and swung his head side-to-side, flicking his snake tongue at everyone he passed. He let his bag slip off his shoulder and sat in the chair opposite Kyle, draping his arm over the back like he was too cool for school. Kyle glanced at him and then turned his attention back to his lighter.

  Gordie and Allie stared at them, making no effort to avoid being noticed. Giving in to temptation, I turned my chair to get a better view. Judging by the almost bored expression on Kyle’s face, he was either calmly homicidal, or he really didn’t care what Fink did.

  Still unaware, Fink drew in a loud sniff and wiped his nose on his jacket sleeve. The two girls fidgeted in their chairs, avoiding his eyes. And then gradually, almost unnoticeably at first, Kyle’s breathing grew louder, straining with each breath. Brittany’s eyes flicked between Kyle and Aisha, the atmosphere electrifying. Case closed. This was going to get decided quickly, and wouldn’t need a drawn-out discussion about misunderstandings.

  If Fink suspected something was up, he wasn’t showing it. Even a five year old would have switched on by now. Maybe that knife wound on his tongue went all the way to his brain. Fink straightened in his chair and his screechy voice cut through the cafeteria chatter. “What?”

  Kyle leaned forward, his narrowed eyes locked on target. Brittany grasped at his arm, feebly trying to avoid the inevitable. Shoving her away, he kicked out his chair and stepped around the table to Fink. Before Fink could speak, Kyle gripped the scruff of his jacket and dragged him off his chair and onto the floor. The rumble of voices in the cafeteria dropped to near silence, replaced by the quiet hum of the ventilation system. Kyle shouted, “You want my girl?” He drew his foot back and kicked it hard into Fink’s stomach.

  A murmur of gasps went around the cafeteria and chairs squeaked as people stood. />
  Still flat on the floor, Fink groaned and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He curled into a ball and blinked several times. “What the hell?”

  Kyle snarled and shouted, “She showed me, you snake!”

  Fink silently mouthed words like he didn’t know which one to use, and then glanced at her. “Brittany? I didn’t…” He rolled onto his stomach and climbed to his feet. Kyle ran at him, lowering his shoulder, and struck him like an unblocked linebacker. Fink crashed into a table with arms flailing, and plates and cutlery rattled as students clambered out of the way.

  A low groan tore from Kyle’s throat, and his face contorted. “Get out, or I’ll rip that fucking snake tongue out of your mouth.”

  Leaning on the table, Fink snorted and scanned the hundreds of faces staring back at him. If he thought he had any friends, his day was about to get a whole lot worse. With a puzzled frown, he clutched his bag and limped up the aisle toward the front of the cafeteria.

  Kyle sank into his chair and pulled his lighter from his pocket, flicking it repeatedly.

  “Holy crap!” Allie put her hand to her mouth. “I can’t even…”

  In sophomore language class, we learned that the German word schadenfreude means enjoying someone else’s suffering. I wasn’t a shrink, but I’d bet Gordie was feeling something even better. Uber schadenfreude. Gordie let his smile widen and relief played across his face.

  Hobbling past the tables at the front, Fink pushed into the line of tray holders waiting for food. A rustle of whispers spread through the cafeteria, turning