school

march 20

We're all stunned. No one can move.

In the beginning of Summer's time here, there were rumors that someone read from her notebook and it went into great detail how she'd kill people. I looked at Summer and thought she'd never do that. She may appear scary, but she's fragile I can tell.

She doesn't shake as she'd still holding the gun with both hands.Slowly, she turns towards us. She keeps the gun up, not pointed at anyone. Ms. Randall is lying unconscious on the floor, blood sopping from some place and making a red puddle around her body. Wake up.

"Hey, guys," Summer says, breathy.

No one says hi back to her. She takes one hand off the gun and reaches into her pocket. She pulls out a purple holographic pocket knife. She flicks it open and walks to a guy in the first row.

At this moment, I feel bad for not knowing his name. He may die, I tell myself, and you never even said hi. My insides cry for help.

"Hey, Ben," she says, holding the knife up to the bobbing lump in his throat.

"H-hi, Summer," he stutters.

"You know why I'm doing this, Ben?" He shakes his head. "I'm doing this because you didn't notice me!" She yells then points at someone else. "You didn't notice me either!" She does this a few more times.

Summer doesn't look good, like she may pop. She's shaking but it's a scared shaking. It's an adrenaline type of shaking. I mean, she did just kill someone.

"I sat alone every fucking day! No one ever invited me to sit with them! No one sat with me! You-" she points the gun at me, no Vanessa-" pushed me into a locker today and called me freak! You-" she points the gun at Chase- "said I'm a good type of freak if it's in the bed! Not to mention the 43 times I've been told to kill myself. Yes, I counted. And there are 43 people in this classroom. A life for each one of those times someone literally rooted for me to die."

Ms. Randall, get up. I close my eyes. It's a dream. Summer isn't doing this. She wouldn't do this. She's like a little bunny, she's harmless. She's not a danger to even a fly. The same girl who wrote the amazing screenplay for our film.

Marilyn Manson, I think. She used The Nobodies by him as the background music for the film. That happens to be her school nickname.

My thoughts are shattered like glass when Summer shoots the gun again. Into Chase's scull. Everyone jumps in their seats. Chase's head thumps into the desk behind his's desk, a girl named Jamie. She screams as she watches his eyes roll to the back of his head and blood drips onto her lap from his head. Summer doesn't look phased. She looks pleased. I look at his curly hair and white as milk skin, matted with blood and his brain.

"Such a shame," Summer snorts.

He was my best friend.

"What's your name?" Summer asks Jamie.

Jamie is shaking. Last year, she bought everyone in the whole school an ice cream party on the last day of school. Her own money, not even her parents'. She loves riding horses and drawing flowers.

"Jamie." She swallows her fear.

"How do you spell that, Jamie?"

"J-A-M-I-E." Summer nods.

She lifts her black tee shirt over her head. She's wearing a black bra. She reveals a bunch of scars that look like caterpillars. No wonder there's nothing on her wrists. She drags the knife along her skin, making shallow cuts that spell out Jamie's name. Beads of blood rise and fall down her jeans. She doesn't seem to care. Does she even feel?

I doubt it.

"How about you, Vanessa? How do you spell your name?"

"Summer, no."

"What?" Summer walks over to where we're sitting in the back.

Her side touches my arm and it feels like silk and she smells like honey. She puts the gun to Vanessa's forehead. Vanessa intakes a deep breath like she doesn't believe Summer will squeeze the trigger.

"You know what, guys?" Summer laughs. "There's just so much death inside of me. I'm dead and rotting on the inside like maggots are squirming through my arteries and weeds are growing in my chest."

Vanessa mutters something and Summer hits her with the tip of the gun enough to make her head bleed a little.

"There's so much death inside of me," she says again ", and I just want to share it with others."

She send a bullet flying through Vanessa's head. On the back wall, her brains literally drip off the windowsill. I didn't want her to be my girlfriend, but I didn't want her to die either. When she walks to the front of the class, she puts a hand on my shoulder real quick and continues walking.

"You know, there aren't many girl school shooters." Someone says this but I don't catch who because I feel dizzy.

Summer sits in Ms. Randall's desk and starts typing on her computer. She puts down the gun, but holds the purple knife still. She hasn't put her shirt on yet. She starts laughing.

"Guys, I found Ms. Randall's diary. This thing is dirty," she kicks her dead body ",Last night Tom told me he's always secretly wanted to do something kinky. So I let him tied me to the bed and pound into me fast while I was covered in honey. It felt nice, but it was hard to clean up."

I can't help but chuckle a little.

"Tom said he had a surprise for me a few nights ago. Last night, he brought in a prostitute and said he always knew I wanted to have a threesome. She was cute but I've never done anything with a girl. It made me a little jealous when Tom was fucking her and not me. All I did was pretend I liked it. But there was a thrill in her watching him fuck me. Good night, but a little weird."

Summer types something in and then a song starts playing. It's heavy guitar music, but it's also sort of upbeat. Eventually I can tell it's Marilyn Manson because I had to hear him sing that song a million times while making that movie.

"This song is called Disposable Teens by Marilyn Manson. I figured it can get all our blood pumping."

There's 45 kids in this class but I feel like I'm the only one here. Wait, there's 45. She said she wanted to kill 43. So basically, she wants to live but with someone else. I cross my fingers that it's me. There's no one else in this class I care about that isn't dead.