Disclaimer: Don't own and never will. Got that?
AN: I was inspired to write this after reading a walkthrough for GTA Vice City, in which the author suggested running over the prostitute after making use of her services.
For Sarah Gabaldon, there was nothing about the warm sunny Thursday afternoon that suggested that her life or the life of anyone else in her class was about to change drastically.
Like any other Thursday, she stared longingly out of the classroom window as she waited the end of what was, in her opinion, one of the most boring classes at North Point Middle School. An opinion it seemed, that was shared by the majority of her classmates if the bored expressions and glazed looks were any guide.
"During the early nineteen sixties, the character and ethnic make up of the population of Vice City began to change as huge influxes of Cuban refugees began to take up residence in the place now known as Little Havana. Later that year-"
"Blah, blah, blah. Bet they don't mention the fights to kick out those Cholos gangster thugs," her best friend Dita Chavarria whispered to her, bringing a smile of amusement to Sarah's face. Dita was very proud of the Cubans victory over the Cholos. Her father died in the struggles only two years previously and since then she had idolised their battles.
"I think Professor Adams would have a heart attack if someone tried to deviate from his approved version of history," she replied and both girls chuckled. She brushed a strand of her short blond hair out of her eyes and looked over at her friend. "Man, I just want to get out of here already, hit the beaches and take the piss out of the tourists."
"I hear ya girl, but we got," Dita paused and looked up at the clock, "a total of fifteen minutes before school's out and we get our freedom. See if I can get Andreo to give us a lift there."
"Shit, thought your brother was scared you going to get hurt by the Haitians going in his car," Sarah said and Dita chuckled, her dark brown eyes sparkling with amusement.
"I'm sure I can twist him around my little finger," she said, before suddenly striking a faux innocent pose. "A helpless and innocent little Cuban beauty walking all by herself? She needs protecting from all those dangerous Haitian thugs out there, doesn't she?"
Sarah snorted. Dita was anything innocent or helpless, the knife in her bag having been used more than once to protect herself. Not that Sarah could talk, her mother was a hooker after all, she knew all about the dangers of this city.
"Perhaps Miss Sarah has something important to add to the class?" Professor Adams said sharply, fixing Sarah with a withering look and Sarah flushed.
"No sir," she said with a swallow and Professor Adams nodded.
"I thought not. Perhaps you might consider saving your laughter for the giggle cream and your attention for your schoolwork," he said, before returning to his usual drone.
"Ouch, that was nasty," Dita whispered after a few moments and Sarah sighed.
"Yeah. You owe me a drink," she replied and Dita gave her a strange look.
"Fuck you. What do I owe you a drink for!" she asked and Sarah gave her friend an amused look.
"You owe me for not dropping you in it of course," she replied and Dita smirked.
"Deal. As long as it's not more than ten cents," she replied and both girls stared at each other for a few moments before smirking.
"Damn, you're cheap," Sarah said and Dita smirked even harder.
"I know. It's a gift," she replied, but before they could say any more, the class was interrupted by the arrival of two men in the easily recognisable dark tan shirt and brown trousers of the Vice City Police Department uniform and the atmosphere in the classroom abruptly changed. They all knew why they were here, even if they didn't know who they were here to break the bad news to. In a city like Vice City, all too often the police would arrive at school because someone was killed and at North Point Middle School, where the majority of Vice City's poorer kids attended, a visit was practically a given for at least every class.
One of the two men said something to Professor Adams and Sarah felt a block of lead settle in her stomach, while Dita's body went very rigid. A morbid curiosity and dread settled on the class as everyone hoped that it wasn't them and at the same time wanting to know who.
Time seemed to slow down as the officer and the professor talked. Barely a few seconds had passed, but it seemed like an eternity. Sarah prayed to a God she didn't really believe in and she was almost certain every other kid in her class was doing the same. Finally, Professor Adams spoke.
"Dita Chavarria, I believe these men need to speak privately to you," Professor Adams said and a wave of relief passed through the class as almost everyone there thanked a God they didn't believe in that it wasn't them.
Dita stood up, as if determined to avoid breaking down in front of the class and rigidly walked towards the two officers and she stepped out with the two officers, Sarah felt a sharp sense of sympathy and relief in one movement. Sympathy for her friend who had lost yet another family member to gang violence and an almost selfish relief it was Dita and not herself receiving such news.
And as time ticked on, Sarah prayed that her turn to receive such bad news never came.