A/N: Written for a contest concerning the seven deadly sins.
Skittery
Sometimes, there is no happy ending. Sure, it would be great if everything worked out okay in the end, but it usually doesn't. Trust me, I would know. And no, that's not just a load of bull crap. My credentials? Well, as I'm writing these words I'm sitting here holding my best friends hand and he might be dying and any minute I could be the next victim of a madman with a gun. Any more questions, smartass? I thought not.
This whole thing began this morning, in first period. We got 'the announcement,' the one every kid jokes about, but secretly prays he'll never hear.
"Teachers," came the principal's voice, sounding terrified, "Lock all your doors, immediately. There has been a serious breach of security. Students and faculty should get to the nearest classroom and secure themselves inside. Stay away from the doors and windows. This is not a drill."
Screams erupted around the room. We all knew what he meant. This is New York City, after all. Almost immediately, there was pounding on the door and when the teacher opened it cautiously, several students who had been in the hall ran in, slamming the door behind them. Only one of them was actually in the class, and most weren't in our grade. But we didn't care. They needed shelter too, and far be it from us to toss them back into the path of that idiot with the gun. We all calmed down after a while, but then it all really hit the fan. Right outside the door, we could hear footsteps. The teacher told us all to be quiet and real quick some guys taped black paper over the little rectangular window in the door. We were hoping he'd think no one was in here.
No such luck. We heard him pass the door and then, suddenly, the footsteps stopped. He must have looked at the paper over the door, because we heard him laugh, a high-pitched eerie sound. I knew him. It was Jake, the quiet kid from Chem. The only distinctive thing about him was that laugh. I had only heard it once or twice, but it is a sound never to be forgotten. And I read in it that he knew we were in here. He knocked out the glass, and we tensed at the sound of it as it hit the floor, but his footsteps continued down the hall and we relaxed a little.
Less than five minutes later, though, he was back. We could hear the police and his parents pleading with him over the loudspeaker, but every time they came on he screamed, "I'm not coming out until I'm done. I'm not coming out until they understand." And he shot into another classroom, not aiming but hitting all the same.
When the loudspeaker came on and we heard his footsteps outside, we knew we weren't going to get lucky again.
The girl I had sat next to all year, Christy, was kneeling under her desk. Her hands were folded and she was whispering the Lord's Prayer over and over. Her boyfriend had his eyes closed and his arm around her, holding her close.
Even though we knew it was coming, we were still shocked when Jake began to force the door open. Christy hastily finished her prayer and turned to David. She looked in his eyes and gently took his face in her hands, smiling sadly. They wrapped their arms around each other and kissed deeply. When they pulled apart, both were crying. They spoke briefly, and smiled.
I looked at my best friend, Snitch, and hugged him tightly, knowing we might not live to see each other again. Behind us, Jake forced the lock and entered the room, his gun drawn. As his mother began to speak, sobbing into the microphone, Jake began to spray bullets and yell at the speaker.
"Stop!" Someone yelled. I looked over and saw Christy kneeling on the floor next to where David lay. He had gone terribly white and was holding his shoulder. Blood was pouring from his fingers and he was breathing hard. He closed his eyes and slumped over. Christy caught him as he fell and cradled him gently in her arms. She kissed his face and stroked his hair, tears running down her face.
Jake fired again and next to me someone cried out. I looked over to see Snitch doubled up, gasping for breath and clutching his side. That was when I started to get mad. Snitch, of all people, had never done anything to hurt Jake. He had gone so far out of his way to try and be friends with him, and all he had gotten for it was shot.
Jake looked over too, and his eyes widened. He must have realized the same thing, that now he had shot one of the few people he could consider a friend, because he just slumped over in the doorway and began to sob. He got up a moment later and ran out, and we could hear the last gunshot and Jake's scream following it.
He was gone. I could hear the teacher phoning 911. I knelt beside Snitch and took his hand.
"Skitts?" he gasped through clenched teeth.
"Yeah, it's me. You're gonna be okay. Miss Herrera's calling 911," I told him.
"Is everyone else okay?"
"No, David got shot too, in his arm. He passed out cold, but Christy's taking care of him. He'll definitely be okay."
"Good. Skitts, I'm so tired. But I'm scared. What if I don't wake up?"
"You will."
"I just hurts so bad…" he whimpered and fainted dead away.
A week later…
Well, it's all over now, and I've got the advantages of hindsight and the chance to calm down. I'm sorry for calling you a smartass. I was kind of under some stress then. We had the next day off school, and then it was the weekend so we had all calmed down some. I called Christy up the next day, and we carpooled to the hospital to visit David and Snitch.
"Hey, man," I said as I walked into Snitch's hospital room. The first thing I noticed was the antiseptic atmosphere.
He tried to grin at me. "Hey." Snitch was drenched in sweat and his side was heavily bandaged, but stained in places with blood. He was propped up on pillows, and in a lot of pain.
"How you doing?"
"Okay, I guess. Mostly just glad to be alive." He settled back and closed his eyes, wincing slightly. "What happened to Jake?"
"Actually," I told him, "He's in this hospital. The psych ward, obviously, but he… um… tried to shoot himself, too."
Snitch frowned. "I feel sorry for him," he commented, surprising me. "He's got more problems than the rest of us put together."
That was typical Snitch, I though. He gets shot and feels sorry for the guy that shot him. But I guess that was one reason he was such a great friend. He could always see things from the other guy's point of view.
I sat with him for a few minutes, but he was really tired, kept drifting off to sleep, so I told him I'd come back later and left to find Christy. She was in David's room, as I had figured she would be. He was kind of sitting up in bed, and his arm was bandaged and in a sling. He smiled a little.
"Hey. How's Snitch doing?"
"I dunno. Not so hot, I guess. He's lost a lot of blood and his side hurts. But they say he'll be all right, so I guess…" I didn't bother to finish my sentence. I didn't have to.
I saw Snitch often as he recovered over the next week. Finally, they discharged him from the hospital and he came back. His parents tried to keep him home, but Snitch insisted on coming back. He arrived late to first period in a wheelchair. David had come back the day before, and once again we were all sitting in the place where it had started. Snitch knocked lightly on the door and when the teacher opened it and we saw him sitting there we began to applaud. He blushed deeply, but he said he felt better when I told him we had done the same for David. As class began we heaved a quiet, collective sigh and settled back in our chairs. Our nightmare was over.