"Morning, Jack. Had breakfast?" she asked, as sent him a smile.
"Yes, ma'am," he grinned back at her. "Frosted Flakes never tasted better," he added, as he rubbed his stomach.
She frowned at him and handed him a piece of toast that she had just buttered. "All that sugar is not good for you, you know."
"I know, I know. But I like it," he said, wondering what she would have said if she knew about all the Fruit Loops he ate during that time loop. He still couldn't even pick up a box of that cereal, let alone eat any of it. He had been so sick of it by the time they were able to convince Malakai to put a stop to all that looping. He supposed there was an irony in there somewhere that he was eating Fruit Loops during a time loop. Stop it, Jack, he thought as he shook his head.
"I can make you some eggs," she said, apparently deciding to forgive him as she reached over and pushed his hair off of his forehead. "Wouldn't be any trouble."
"Not hungry, Mrs. G, really," he said. "Besides, I'll be late for school."
"Alright," she said as she sighed. "I just want to make sure you eat right." She stopped and gave him a suspicious look, "You are, aren't you?" she continued.
"Are you kidding?" asked Jack. "You wouldn't believe the food I ate for dinner last night. Chicken and potatoes and half the contents of your cupboards," he grinned at her. "I was sick for a week!"
"You do know how to exaggerate," she laughed. "Go to school already!"
Mike walked in at that moment and gratefully took the piece of toast he was offered. That woman loved to feed people, Jack thought fondly.
Jack had not forgotten his decision to talk to someone at the school about the conversation he'd overheard, and resolved to do so as soon as Coach Creighton let him leave. The Coach had cornered him the moment he got on the school grounds and dragged him off to the locker room where all the other players were huddled. He endured a pep talk and promised to be at the rink at 4:00 p.m. sharp to practice, before running off to his first class. The teacher had been informed he would be late, but she glared at him anyway as he made his way to his seat.
Two hours later, he was immersed in a political science test and had forgotten all about his resolve to talk to someone about the conversation. In fact, he didn't remember the conversation at all. Brittany and Clair had taken it upon themselves to follow him around everywhere, apparently deciding on using a more direct approach to win his attention. It took all his concentration to stay one step ahead of them. He worked through the test, all the while devising his own strategy in avoiding them.
His strategy worked to a point. He had gotten his friends involved in creating diversions and covering him as he ran the other way. He hadn't earned the rank of a Colonel in the United States Air Force for nothing. Unfortunately, he had to show up for practice, and the girls knew it. He was stuck listening to them cheer for him as he practiced with his teammates, all the while devising ways to get even with the girls as his teammates teased him about his 'girlfriends'.
It was a brutal practice session, but Jack knew it had to be. He really wanted to win that game the next night and he was glad the Coach put him through all that. He was tired by the time they reached Sean's house, but he still went in to see if there was anything left of dinner. He should have known there would be and he gulped down the food Mrs. G laid out for all three of them.
Going home afterward, Jack headed straight for bed. He had finished an essay that was due the next day while still at the Garrett's and he was able to fall asleep almost immediately.
Jack couldn't help getting caught up in the excitement that hung in the air as he went through his classes the next day. This game was an important one for the school and everyone wanted to win. Classmates and people he didn't even know came up to him to encourage him and he started to feel the pressure. He wasn't, by any means, the best player on the team and he soon found out that all his teammates were going through the same thing.
His classes passed in a daze and he was still avoiding the 'teenage terrors', Brittany and Claire, who had recruited Deidre in their diabolical scheme. Moving through the gym toward the locker room to get ready for the game, he passed the bleachers where he had heard the conversation about the guns. It all came back to him and he knew he had to talk to someone soon. He decided to search out the Coach to tell him. He found him soon enough, only to be escorted to the lockers by a highly anxious Coach who insisted he get his ass in gear. Jack figured that he would talk to the Principal or a teacher at the first opportunity and headed for his locker.
Tensions were high in the arena when Jack skated onto the rink. He skated a few laps and grinned when he saw his 'family' in the stands cheering and waving at him. He waved back and turned to skate back toward his Coach.
He almost fell over in shock when he got to the bench. Brittany was standing close by and he gaped at her outfit. She had chosen a cream colored shirt that had a neckline that went almost to her navel, which emphasized some pretty impressive assets. Her jeans appeared to be painted on and he knew without a doubt she was setting up the board to play this game her way. He took a deep breath, still staring at her chest, and forced himself to skate to the opposite end of the bench. He hazarded a glance her way and she smiled at him slyly. He turned his head quickly and started searching the stands for Mrs. G, his lifeline. Where the hell was she, he mused as he tried to remember what part of the arena he had seen her in. His mind seemed to have gone to mush.
"Good luck, Jack," he heard Brittany say as she moved up behind him. He turned and found himself looking at her cleavage again before she reached for him and pulled him into a kiss. He vaguely heard the hoots, catcalls and whistles as he tried to push her away from him. Wow, he thought as he stared at her face. She smiled at him once again and moved off to sit with her friends in the bleachers. He couldn't help but think she had made some points among her friends, not to mention with him, before he turned his attention back onto the ice.
To Jack's relief, the game finally got underway and he turned all his concentration on his moves. He relished in this, he loved playing this sport and he soon forgot all about the girl/woman he couldn't possibly get involved with. She was a teenager, for crying out loud!
Jack's team was winning when the lights went out. There were a few screams throughout the arena and Jack felt pain as he skated right into a wall, completely missing the puck he was chasing. The lights came back on a few seconds later, and the silence that filled the arena was soon filled with sounds as people started to feel relief. Jack got up off the floor and skated over to where his teammates were milling about, all wondering what had happened.
Jack, on the other hand was worried. His instincts were working on high speed as he realized that there was something more going on than just the lights going out. He started scanning the area, his eyes searching every single movement. He noticed that the two coaches were having a heated discussion in one corner, people in the stands were talking amongst themselves, the Garretts were looking his way, and the Principal was standing over by the arena's door, talking animatedly with some people. Jack kept scanning, his eyes not missing a detail, and he knew he had found his target when he saw the kid from the other day standing with his friend just behind the gated opening of the rink. The kid glanced back at his friend, then they moved away from the gate and the rink.
Jack made up his mind and skated over to the gate to follow the two boys. He didn't see them right away and was so intent on finding them that he was shocked when the sound of an automatic weapon filled the room. He dropped down to his knees, holding his hockey stick like a weapon, looking around and trying to hear anything that would help him find his target. He gave up on listening as the screams filling the arena obliterated any chance of hearing anything else. He looked up into the stands and grimaced as he saw the panic swelling through the people in the bleachers. Someone was going to get hurt by the stampede alone, he thought.
He looked over to the side and noticed the Coach waving at him to get over there, yelling words that he couldn't hear over the noise of the crowd. He got up to skate over to his teammates when he felt pain as a bullet hit him in the shoulder. He tried to see who shot him even as he fell, instinctively looking in the direction the bullet came from. He saw the face of the kid's friend grinning at him from behind a rifle and Jack knew that he had been chosen specifically as a target. Probably because he was stupid enough to confront the little bastards, he thought.
To hell with this crap, he told himself. He got up off of the ice and started skating toward the shooter, zigzagging his way back and forth to avoid getting shot again. The boy's eyes widened as he realized what Jack was doing and he put the rifle back to his shoulder to take him out for good this time.
Jack had other ideas, though. He ducked just as the gun went off and swung his hockey stick like a bat to knock the boy off his feet. The ruse worked and the kid went flying as he dropped the gun. Jack made a move for the rifle, but the kid had gotten to his feet and dove for it himself. They collided, both grabbing the gun at the same time, as Jack looked up to see the hatred flaring in the boy's eyes. It was something Jack was used to, having seen hatred in the eyes of many enemies during his years as a soldier. It bothered him that this kid had come to know such hatred, though. He was so young.
Jack steeled his resolve and yanked hard on the gun, it went off and the shot went wild, but Jack was determined not to let go. He continued to fight the kid and pulled the gun away when he got help from a man in the crowd. The boy was kicking and screaming while the man held him and Jack nodded at the stranger before moving back out on the ice.
The people in the arena were still screaming and trying to get out of there, when Jack skated out toward the middle of the ice. He could hear shots ringing out over the sounds of the crowd, as he continued to scan the arena. He held the rifle in one hand, his hockey stick in the other and he began looking for the other kid. He jerked his head back to the man who helped him when he heard more gunshots and screams coming from that area. Apparently, the kid had a pistol in his pocket or something, because the man was lying on the floor in a pool of blood. He looked around and saw that there were people huddled at one end of the rink, while there was utter chaos in the stands.
He stopped searching as his mind registered an immediate danger and turned slowly to face the kid who was standing there watching him. The kid was grinning, a semi automatic in one hand and a pistol in the other. The boy wanted to die, Jack thought, as he watched him standing there.
"Get down," he heard someone yell, but Jack wanted to help this kid. He knew all too well where that kid was at right now. He had been there before and his struggles to free himself from the wrenching fear and loneliness had been hard, almost overwhelming. Those months in Iraq when he was held prisoner, beaten, degraded and humiliated beyond belief had him going through the same thing this child was going through. The times and circumstances may have been different, but Jack remembered and he wanted to help this kid get through it.
"It doesn't have to end this way," he said as he moved slowly over the ice toward the kid.
"Yes, it does," the boy answered defiantly. "They hate me, all of them," he said as he swept his arm to indicate the world at large. "Every time I think I will get a break, everything comes apart. Not this time, though," he continued staring at Jack. "This time, whatever happens will happen my way!"
"What will it accomplish?" Jack asked the boy, as he skated even closer to him. "What if you survive anyway? You'll end up in some prison or sanitarium, facing even more loneliness and degradation. If you die, you will be remembered as a monster, your family haunted by the thought of what you've done, your whole life having been a meaningless void. Nothing will make you a hero, something to be adored by others. Trust me, I know."
"That's not what I want," the boy said, as his defiant look faltered. "I want to pay them all back, make them sorry they ever hurt me," he said, the intense anger creeping back into his voice as he spoke the words.
"What did I do to you? You came at me deliberately," Jack accused. "I didn't even know you."
"You had me worrying for two days straight that you would tell someone. You didn't, though, did you? Why not?" The child sneered. "You could have stopped this, you know."
Jack didn't answer him, his anger at the child and at himself too intense and he didn't trust himself to speak. The boy was right and that man over there was hurt, possibly dead because he hadn't told anyone. Jack knew that this was not the time to dwell on this and he turned his attention back to the boy with the huge grin on his face. Jerk thinks he has me over a loop, he thought nastily.
"Nice try," he said, and was pleased to see the kid's smile disappear. "You're the one who pulled the trigger, not me. I'll have no regrets," he lied. "Put down the guns and let's talk this over."
"No way," the boy said hitching the semi-automatic higher. "It was nice talking to you," he said as he pulled the trigger.
Jack had seen it coming and fell to the ground to avoid getting hit. The boy didn't wait around for Jack to hit him with the stick again, instead he ran to his left a few feet then turned to fire the gun at Jack again. Jack had already been on the move and the bullet missed. The kid then turned his gun on the people huddled on the ice and opened fire. Jack swung the stick again and hit the kid square in the chest, knocking his arm up with bullets spraying the ceiling. Jack hit him one more time, causing the boy to drop his gun and fall over to clutch his ribs. He then swung the stick again to hit the gun, sliding it over to a cop who had just entered the rink.
The boy was just as determined as Jack was, though, as he realized he was beaten. Jack didn't have time to react when the boy raised the pistol and put a bullet into his own brain.