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Chapter 11

Mike's POV

Two weeks. I can't believe it has already been two weeks. Two whole weeks since everything went to hell. I've lost track of the number of funerals and remembrance services I've attended during the last couple of weeks. It's not just the funerals that bother me. It's the media as well. How long do they plan on staying in Glenoak anyway? If I have to hear one more psychoanalysis of why those guys did what they did, I am going to scream. How many shrinks could possibly be left for them to interview? I know I've already seen my doctor giving his opinion. Can't we all just be left alone so we can get on with our lives? All I want to do is go to school and help Lucy through her pregnancy.

Speaking of school, we all start back today. Not back to Kennedy of course, as it remains a crime scene, but to a different school across town. Kennedy High School officials split the student body up into groups and directed each group to a temporary high school nearby. Luckily Lucy, Simon, and I all ended up at the same school, King High School.

"Well, here we are," I looked over at Lucy as we stood in front of our new school.

"Here we are," Lucy repeated. "Is anyone else as nervous as I am?"

"Yeah," I answered. "I always get nervous when I have to meet new people."

"Yeah, but at least you guys have each other," Simon pointed out. "I don't have anyone. I had finally found my place in high school and now I'm back at the beginning again."

"You're not at the beginning. You have me and you have Lucy." I tried to comfort him, but I wasn't sure how much I was accomplishing.

"You have us too," I heard a female voice from behind us. We turned around to see an older girl and a younger boy staring back at us.

"Keisha!" Lucy screamed and the two girls hugged each other. "I didn't know you guys went here."

"After the redistricting last summer, we wound up here," she explained.

"Hey Simon," the young man high fived Simon. "It's been awhile."

"Yeah, it has," Simon answered. "What's been up man?"

"Nothing really, just school." The boy answered. "We're sorry to hear about your school, but we were glad to hear that you guys are okay."

"Thanks," Simon answered. "It was scary, but we made it through."

"So," Keisha started. "Who is your friend?"

"I'm Mike," I answered extending my hand. "I'm Lucy's………………friend." I wasn't sure what Lucy wanted me to say. I wanted to be able to say boyfriend, but at this point that seems like more of a fantasy.

"I'm Keisha and this is my younger brother Nigel." She shook my hand. "Our families are good friends with the Camdens. Our fathers graduated from the ministry together."

"Actually, Mike's not just my friend," Lucy began. Please God, let her say I'm her boyfriend. "He's the father of my baby." I was a little surprised she admitted it; I figured she would want to keep that news quiet until the last possible second.

"You're having a baby?" Keisha asked, surprised. "How did this happen?

"It's a long story. I'll explain everything to you later." Lucy answered. "I just don't think its right to hide things from friends."

"That's cool," Nigel answered. "We won't tell anyone else unless you want us to."

"What do your parents think of this?" Keisha asked.

"They are actually being pretty cool about it," Lucy answered. "I think they are just happy that we are not dead."

"Yeah, I can see why they would be so relieved." Keisha nodded.

"Is Ruthie still angry with you?" I asked. In all my visits to the Camden's the last couple of weeks, I hadn't seen Ruthie once.

"She's still upset with me. Poor Mary has been stuck playing mediator," Lucy answered.

"How is Mary doing?" Nigel asked.

"She's doing better," Simon asked. "She has pulled out of debt and moved back to the house."

"I'm glad she's doing better." Keisha told them.

"So," I asked casually. "How are you feeling this mourning?"

"Not to great," Lucy answered. "I spent most of the morning throwing up. I was finally able to stop long enough to get dressed and make it to school."

"I'm sorry you feel so bad," I apologized. I hated seeing her feel so lousy, especially since it was half my fault that she was feeling that way. I looked at my watch and sighed. "Well, it's five minutes 'till. I guess we should go in. What class do you guys have first?"

"I have Algebra with a Mr. Melton," Simon looked down at his schedule.

"Come on man, I'll show you where it's at." Nigel told Simon and the two headed inside the school.

"I have Social Studies," Lucy answered. "You?"

"Same here," I answered. "Mr. McGuire?"

"Yep."

"That's my first class too," Keisha offered. "I'll walk with you."

I took a deep breath and grabbed Lucy's hand as we walked inside the school. Keisha led us into the classroom on the first floor. We took our seats and waited for the rest of the class to file in. I was a little nervous about the stares we would be getting. I was used to being gossiped about and stared at, but not out of sympathy.

Once the bell rang and the other students settles, the teacher appeared. As I had expected, we received their sympathetic looks and I could tell that Lucy was annoyed by them. She didn't like it when the students at Kennedy were talking about us going to Homecoming together, so I could imagine how she was feeling now. I stared at the teacher, waiting for him to begin. He was a tall, middle-aged man with brown hair and a moustache. He wore glasses that were attached to a chain around his neck like a little old lady.

"Good morning class," he greeted us as he stood in front of his desk. "And welcome those of you joining us from Kennedy High School." He looked directly at Lucy and me. That is when I noticed that we were the only Kennedy students in this class. "Why don't the two of you introduce yourself?"

I stood next to my desk. "I'm Mike Pierce," I introduced myself. "I'm a senior from Kennedy High School."

"Lucy Camden," Lucy stood next to me. "I'm a senior too."

"Was it scary?" A boy from the front of the class asked.

The girl behind him slapped him on the back of the head. "What do you think?" She asked him sarcastically.

The boy rubbed the back of his head. "Ow! I was just asking."

I decided to answer the question, hoping it would be the end of the questioning. "Of course it was scary." I answered. "It was one of the scariest things I've ever witnessed."

"Did you see the shooters?" Another girl asked. "Did they shoot at you personally?"

So much for no more questions. "I saw them," I answered. "I saw their guns so I grabbed Lucy and ran."

"You guys are dating?" Another guy asked.

"We're just friends," Lucy answered as we sat back down in our chairs.

"Did you know the shooters?" The boy behind me asked.

"I didn't," I answered.

"I knew of them," Lucy answered.

"Did you lose a lot of friends?"

"Andrew, I don't think that is an appropriate question to ask. I'm sure the pain is still very real." Mr. McGuire scolded.

"Sorry," Andrew apologized.

Mr. McGuire continued. "Why don't we move away from the personal questions and discuss what we can do to prevent tragedies like these from happening." Thank You. Talking about prevention would be a lot better than talking about personal loss.

"Okay," Andrew agreed. "What can we do to stop school violence?"

"You tell me," Mr. McGuire continued. He wrote the words: 'what I can do to stop school violence' on the board and turned back to us. "Any suggestions?" Several hands raised and Mr. McGuire pointed to a blonde girl sitting next to the window. "Amy."

"We could report any threats that are made," Amy suggested and Mr. McGuire wrote it on the board.

"But who can we report them to?"

"Good question Justin." Mr. McGuire looked back at us. "You can report any threats to a teacher, a school official, a police officer, or anyone else in authority. There is also a school violence hotline you can call at any time. What else can we do?" More hands rose. "Nathan."

"We can keep a look out for warning signs that a kid could be a shooter." The brown headed boy answered and Mr. McGuire wrote his suggestion under Amy's.

"But what are the warning signs?" Keisha asked.

"According to the news, some warning signs include: cruelty to animals, a morbid fascination with death and violence, threat making, having uncontrollable anger, and feeling that others around you have no rights. A lot of times shooters have social problems such as being picked on or pushed around." Mr. McGuire explained. "But just because someone displays a couple of those characteristics, it doesn't necessarily make them a shooter. However, it is good to remember them as a preventative measure. What else can we do? Jennifer?"

"We can stop picking on each other so no one feels that they need to shoot anyone." Jennifer answered and Mr. McGuire added it to the list.

"That doesn't make any sense to me."

"Why not Sean?" Mr. McGuire asked.

"I don't see how shooting someone is better than being picked on. So these guys are picked on and then they shoot their tormentors. Then what? The way I see it, that only leaves two options: either they die themselves or they go to prison, where they will be picked on more than they are at school. So what is the logic in it all?"

"I think a lot of shooters don't think things through. They are too busy planning out how they are going to get revenge and they don't even think about the consequences. I think they are so anger filled that they don't stop and think that if they take revenge, things would be a lot worse for everyone, including themselves." A small red headed girl explained her theory.

"That could be part of it, Cyndi." Mr. McGuire nodded his head.

"But would they really get picked on more in prison?" Justin asked. "If a guy is in prison for murder, are the other inmates really going to mess with him or her?"

"But in prison, the shooter wouldn't have his gun," I answered. I had been content to just listen to the conversation, but I found my mouth moving before I could stop it. "For the most part, those other prisoners are going to be older and tougher than the shooter."

"Yo, in my opinion if a guy isn't tough enough to handle a little teasing, he probably isn't tough enough to handle jail. So why do it? Why not just tell a teacher that they are being picked on? Shooting someone makes you more of a coward than a tough guy."

"Good Question Bradley," Mr. McGuire nodded.

"I think that those kids feel that if they tell someone, the teasing will get worse," Lucy suggested. "They keep everything inside and the anger builds from there."

"Could be," Mr. McGuire nodded. "Are there any other suggestions?" No one raised their hand. "So what we can do to stop school violence is stop teasing others, look for warning signs that a student could be a shooter, and report any threats to an authority figure." The bell rang signaling the end of class and the students filed out of class. "Have a nice day," Mr. McGuire called as we reach the hallway.

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