The idea began to form in Tabby's mind, much like a pearl forms in an oyster. It started out as small specks of irritating throughts, which continously rubbed at the back of her subsonious, until it became something defined and beautiful, an idea. She dare not share it with anyone, for fear it would be ripped away from her, so she kept her shell tightly closed around it. It was time for that shell to open.
When the sky was gray, she got on her bike and began to pedal towards Lincoln High. The air was cold, but so was the gun 's barrel pressed against her thigh under her jeans.
The schoo'l soon came to view and so did the statue of J. W Mifflin, it's founder. She rode up to it, and got off her bike, and left it lying at the state's feet. She climbed up besides the statue on its pink marble pedastole, and took the gun out of her pants. She lifted it up to her temple and waited.
