Short Stories

It's Always The Quiet Ones

It’s Always The Quiet Ones:

 

The shrill of the bell echoed throughout the empty corridors, causing Clarissa to jump at the sudden noise. The kid sitting next to her snickered, she shoved him lightly. “Shut up, Monty,” she whispered as the teacher entered the classroom.

            Mr. McClain’s voice boomed throughout the small room, announcing his presence and the excuse  of why he was late (he had to drop his cat off at the vet again), pretty sure that the people two classes over could hear his voice clearly.

            He quickly moved off the topic of his personal life and settled on the subject at hand, his subject: World Civilization.

            He hastily plunged into the lesson, spurting out random facts about the Aztec’s and how they sacrificed at least fifty people daily. Human sacrifice was a big thing way back in the day. “I’m so glad I didn’t live there,” Monty commented under his breath, only meant for Clarissa to hear.  

            All of the students were immersed in the subject, almost completely unaware of anything except for the information spilling from the teacher’s lips. The only noises that were consistent was Mr. McClain’s voice and the scribble of pencil on paper.

            Then all of sudden the door burst open and hit the wall with a thwack, causing everyone to lurch from their trances. Burly men in black suits and sunglasses had entered the room with no explanation. The pair of them immediately began weaving through the trashed desks.

            Mr. McClain began yelling at the men in irritation. Asking way too many questions that were all swimming through his students’ minds. Who are you? What are you doing here? Who gave you the right?!

            But his endless questions were abruptly cut off when one of the two men revealed a gun, and pointed it at him. Everyone froze. A girl in the back had tears streaming down her face.

            The pair resumed winding through the desks until they stopped at the right edge of the classroom, both standing at either side of a boy named Troy. He mumbled something to the men. They didn’t say anything in response, but roughly grabbed his shoulders and shoved him out of his seat.     

            “I DIDN’T DO IT!” He screamed, trying to escape the men’s grasp, but it was no use. Tears streamed down Troy’s face, “I DIDN’T DO IT!” He repeated, his voice cracked at the end, pleading.

            The men just shook their heads and one flung him over his shoulder. Troy kicked and cried out in despair. Yet no one moved, as the gun was still in sight. Troy continued to struggle, but to no avail.

            A final cry ripped from his throat as the one escorted him through the door. The other kept the gun pointed at them and hovered on every person’s head. Then he slipped through the crack and the door clicked shut.

            Everyone was quiet for about moment, all wondering what just happened, still processing it in their brains. The most common thought amongst all of them was: What did he do?

            The second was: He’s so quiet. What could have he done?

            Then all of a sudden the sprinklers went off as it there was a fire, but instead of water squirting down, it was a gas. It had a sickly smell to it. It quickly spread throughout the room that people still couldn’t react. Then it was gone.

            It was quiet for a moment before Mr. McClain started teaching again, his voice filled the room, calming the students' tension. Where it came from, they had no idea.

             He spoke about the Aztec’s and how they sacrificed at least fifty people daily. Human sacrifice was a big thing way back in the day. “I’m so glad I didn’t live there,” Monty commented under his breath, only meant for Clarissa to hear.

            Then as the students’ were working on a worksheet Mr. McClain began to take roll. “Ah,” Mr. McClain then said, referring to Troy’s empty seat. “Troy must be absent.”