Oibara

Christina Becomes a Hero

The school's secretary, Mrs. Bell, let dorm students stay her house. At a boarding school, there were instances when students needed to stay a night away; when they had their wisdom teeth pulled and they needed to be closely watched during the night by an adult who could readily dispense their Vicodin; when they got suspended and were separated from the student populace. The school needed to send them to the house. And they went to Mrs. Bell's.

Everyone loved her place. For one, the dorm kids weren't allowed television on school grounds. Mrs. Bell let you watch her widescreen HD TV and play X-Box. Two, her kitchen was stocked with munchies, from Fruit Loops to kiwi to home made dumplings. Dorm students could only eat during cafeteria hours, so to have access to a kitchen like this was heaven. When kids got stressed from the course load, they would intentionally get themselves suspended. They called it a Bell Vacation.

So maybe it made sense that Emily and I were dropped off at Mrs. Bell's house after Luke attacked my house. I don't know exactly why he chose to stash us there, except maybe Bell's place was the dumping ground for hapless St. Mark's students.

He posted Officer Tom at the front door.

"Keep the curtains closed," he instructed -just that simply- lifting my head and placing a kiss on my forehead.

Arthur was a beast in crisis. Like, literally, a beast. When he was in life-or-death mode, the reptilian brain took over his head and drained him of all human affect. His motions became swift and efficient, and he showed no emotion, having no time for dramatics. In 2004, a mudslide over-ran a plant nursery, killing three people. Arthur worked forty two hours straight during the crisis, only speaking in grunts and growls.

Anyway, Lewis was here, sitting on the counter with a plate full of turkey sandwich on his lap.

"You'd think they give us some Valium or something," he mumbled. "Instead I have to settle for tryptophan." He peeled a slice of bread away and poked at the poultry slices, a frown spreading over his face. Tear streaks were drying on his cheeks. Pathetic.

Emily embraced him. He shoved his face into her collarbone and cried out loudly.

She peeked at me over his shoulder and flicked her head, in a come and join us gesture.

I took a quick step away, stuttering something awkward and apologetic.

‘Cause I didn't feel right hugging. Let's-hug-over-our-dead-friends didn't work for me. Somehow, it made me feel vaguely disgusted. People were dying, and all we could do was cry and hug over it. I knew this was a backwards attitude; people should hug over their murdered friends. The touching was comforting. If Luke killed again, maybe we would even have a comfort orgy. I'd like an orgy. At least that was novel.

"God, I miss them," Lewis muttered.

"Me, too," Emily answered, petting his gelled hair.

"Me... three?" I said. God, I suck at this.

"What if he's coming after all of us?" he asked, unhooking from Emily and backing away. "Emily and David... they both died while they were hanging out with us."

"Maybe we're just bad luck," Emily said, smiling weakly. "Christina and I."

"I don't want to die." Lewis chewed his lip.

"At least it would be quick," I added, making a gun out of my hand and aiming it my head.

Lewis gave me a hurt glare. Emily, bless her heart, smirked in response. I knew it was a pity-smirk, but I would take it.

For a moment I thought about explaining myself. Death didn't disturb me too much. Sure, I had plans for the future -I'd like to dig up dinosaur bones in New Mexico, that would be cool- and getting that nixed by an early bullet would certainly be awful. Nevertheless, I didn't fear death so much as pain. As far as psycho killers went, Luke was a merciful one. He could break all our bones and fold us into a luggage case, letting us bleed to death in his closet.