Vigilante

The Vigilante

I look at the picture of his petrifying face. Just looking at him boils me up. What this man did is unforgivable. I swore revenge, and I will get it. If it’s the last thing I do, the Vigilante is going down.

I linger at the freshly printed newspapers. I stare as at it, as if it was him. Will I ever have the guts to bring him down? I’ll get what I want, but first I am off to high school. Trust me, it’s hard to track down a vigilante and be a straight A student as a sophomore in high school. I come back from school every day, I study, then try to track him down. On the weekends, I either study or research him, never both.

“Come on, Brunette, we are late for school!” My extreme nuisance of a brother, Dylan, screams from all the way downstairs.

“I’m coming and for the last time. I'm dirty blond!” I howl back.

The truth was, I wasn’t even ready; I was still in my blue-heart pajamas. I scan my closet, as quickly as possible. I take the floral T-shirt, with skinny jeans, and my all-time favorite sneakers. I tie my hair in a cute ponytail, so it won’t get in my way.

“Finally,” he sighs.

 “I’m sorry you and your geeky friends can only practice in the band room, in the morning, because no one wants to hear your ear popping, so called “Music”!”  I shout, as the anger rushed through me. I had to get up early for the past weeks, just so he and his “band” can practice in the morning. I already stay up until 3 A.M trying to track “him” down. My father, who is a cardiovascular surgeon, points out every time we eat dinner that he is the only none artistic person in this house. My opinion however, is that me and my mom have an artistic talent, and my brother is just another wannabe. My mother was one of the most famous artists in Los Angeles; we got 10,000 dollars on her last painting. I try to stop thinking about her. I can’t handle the pain of remembering her.

 “At least look good, if you’re going to take five hours to get ready!” Dylan response while walking out the door to the car. I see dad waiting for us. I usually take the bus, but today I don’t. 

“I look better than you. When was the last time you took a shower?” I really want to know; I’m always terrified his horrible stench will rub off on me.

 “Trust me, little sister, when you are in eleventh grade, you won’t have time to shower either!” His comeback is lame, however, he says it with a humongous smirk on his face.

“First of all, don’t call me your little sister; you’re only two years older than me. It irritates me when you say that. Second, that is just GROSS!”

“Sorry, little sister,” he taunts me. After that no, one said a word.

I look to my side, my brother’s hair messed up, like he just woke up. His pure blond hair makes his hazel eyes shine. He wears a white shirt with black jeans. He is taller than most of his class, but not too tall. I have to admit he doesn’t look too shabby. Then his stop comes. Dad thought it was better if we were in different public high schools, so there would be no competition between us.

“Later, Brunette,” he smiles, like we were kids again.

“See you, Blonde!” I scream back at him. Sure when he taunts me, it is super annoying, but sometimes I like it. Sometimes I wonder if I am crazy.

“Are you two alright?” My father says, attempting to be funny.

As we reach the driveway to my school, I feel the weight of the Earth on my shoulders. I take a vast deep breath. The car parks. I wave good-bye to my father and walk out. I walk slowly, almost as if I was walking on eggshells. I have this feeling that everybody knows I am hunting the Vigilante, as if they stared at me, with only judgmental looks. I open the school door, while a shiver went through my back. I need the help of Rosie, one of my close friends, only, if I can find her.