Three girls walked down the street toward the Circle K on that hot, sunny summer day. Kathryn “Kirby” Green, Shelly Walker, and Christine Korvath were going to pick up some refreshments for Shelly’s birthday party.
Kirby, age seventeen, was short and had shoulder-length hair that went from blonde at the roots to deep black at the tips. Kirby’s eyes were a light sky blue color, and she wore a complementary green tank top, black shorts, and green flip-flops. She was a very gorgeous and curvaceous teenager, with the confidence to complete the look.
Shelly was also fairly short, with short chocolate brown curls that matched her chocolate brown eyes. She wore a white tee, blue jeans, and sneakers. She was a very plain teenager, and though she was the oldest at eighteen years old, she was the least mature. Even though Shelly did not have very many curves to her body, she was also very confident.
Christine wore a black tank top, black skinny jeans, and black Converse shoes. She had a quite a bust, but had absolutely no type of curve to her backside. At sixteen years of age, she was the youngest of the three, and was, for the most part, quiet, shy, and insecure.
While they walked, they talked about the weather, school, celebrities, boys, and many other things. “Hey, Christine,” Shelley asked as they opened the door to the gas station. “Where did you get your name?”
“Oh…” said Christine. “My mom totally loves Stephen King novels, and, well, she loves the one about a killer car named Christine, so…you get the picture.
“At least it’s better than my name.” Kirby said with a laugh. “Seriously, what the hell kind of name is Kathryn? And what’s the deal with how it’s spelled? Ugh. My parents screwed me over, BIIIIG time.”
Christine picked up a case of Mountain Dew. “Hey, at least it’s not as bad as that one girl. You remember, right Shelly?” Shelly nodded and laughed. “Yeah, Kirby, you should have seen her. This girl walks up to me and Christine, and goes, ‘Hi, my name is Karleefah. What’s yours?’ We have no idea who this girl was or nothing, either.”
Kirby laughed. “Oh my god, you guys, that sounds racist!” Shelly pantomimed smacking Kirby. “How am I racist when I dated a black guy? Huh, Kirby? Huh?” Kirby ducked. “Geez, Shells, I was just kidding.” Christine snickered. Kirby grinned at her and said, “But we all know that Christine is a racist bitch.”
“Hey!!” Christine laughed and kicked Kirby in the butt. “I am not!! Just because I don’t think they’re cute doesn’t mean I’m racist!! Remember, Markeesha WAS my friend…until I kissed Mike.” Kirby shook her head, smiling. “Like I said, just kidding, you guys.” Shelley laughed. “I totally forgot about that! Yeah, she did get mad at you for kissing him, huh? Why was that anyway? They weren’t even going out.” Christine sighed. “She never told me she liked him, and I liked him, so I kissed him. If she had told me that she liked him first, I would never have kissed him. He was a really bad kisser, too. Ugh.” Kirby hooked an arm around Christine’s shoulders. “Cheer up, girl. You let her have him, remember.” Christine grinned. “Yeah, you’re right. He just wasn’t good enough for me. Now help me with this stuff, you guys.”
The three girls took their stuff to the counter and rang it up. Just as Christine was digging out her wallet from her large black purse, someone burst into the store. “They’re everywhere!!!!” The man screamed. “Get back!! I will save you from the monsters that lurk among you!” He was wearing a black ski mask, but by the color of his lips, the girls could tell it was an African American man. He was large and wore a black trench coat and huge black boots. Turning slightly, the man pulled out a pistol from one of his many pockets on his trench coat.
“Look out!” the cashier cried, and everyone but Christine dropped down to the ground. Christine stared at the man in horror and tried to drop to the ground as well, but to no avail. Somehow, she couldn’t move. Looking around franticly, she found that a small arrow with a tiny silver cross on it was sticking out of her upper thigh. She screamed in pain and terror as the man proceeded to slowly aim his weapon at her. “I knew you were one of them, girly...” The man paused to sniff the air and took a few steps closer to Christine. She whimpered as the man got closer, and he continued. “I could smell it.” Christine was frightened, and tried as hard as she could to move her arms. She needed to get the arrow out of her leg, and fast. Pain was spreading through her body from the point where the needle struck her. “Now, tell me, girly,” The man spoke again in his unnerving gravelly voice. “Why exactly haven’t you burst into flames yet?” Brilliantly, Christine blinked and said, “Huh? What the hell are you talking about?” Before the man could explain, a beer bottle cracked him on the back of the head out of nowhere. The man turned around in fury and aimed the pistol right at Kirby, who held the broken bottle sheepishly in her hands. “DUCK, KIRBY!!” Christine managed to scream before tearing the arrow out of her thigh and hurling it at the man. The arrow hit the man right in between the shoulder blades, and he let out a howl. He turned and fired five consecutive shots right at Christine, hitting her, and causing the whole world to go black.
