Kidnapped

Crisis

It's wasn't because of the students milling out front, but the quiet chatter that made me stop just as I was about to step a foot in the school line. I could hear the ticking and the hairs on my neck stood on end.

Today's the day, the thought promised.

I set my foot down and walked toward the school steps. The pictures that came with the thought was enough to get me moving. At least now I knew he wasn't kidding. He was serious and he was ready to take as many students as he could along with him. The thought has been in his head for two months and I've heard them all. I'd just foolishly assumed he wasn't brave. Now I knew that it was for real.

"Damn it!" I muttered to myself, bypassing a smoker, who was leaning against the banister. He must have given me a look, but I ignored it and kept on walking. Twelve steps suddenly seemed like a thousand, stretching out.

I watched Jeremy Clarkson for two whole months, but now suddenly he was ready to kill his classmates? He always wimped out. Always. Not because he couldn't find a gun, but because he was taught to take his abuse in silence. He was taught to never cry and to cover his bruises. His dad has been teaching him that since his mother left them back in middle school. It was Jeremy's fault, his father told him. Jeremy's fault. Mr. Clarkson owned a few guns and today was the last straw for Jeremy. He was done with life and its bullies.

I paused and turned around to look back, feeling a shift in Jeremy's thoughts. Maybe he changed his mind again. Loud chatter and laughter rushed at me, but I ignored them and blocked out their thoughts and chatter. I focused only on Jeremy's thoughts trying to pinpoint his location.

...Maybe I shouldn't... some of them are alright... I would miss this tree... I--

I searched for a tree and stared at the spot until I could zoom in on the bench next to the tree. There he sat alone, shoulders hunched and a black hood over his head. No one was near him, but Jeremy was already breathing hard. I could see it from here. Some of the kids acted like he was a plague and the others didn't know him enough to sit near him. He didn't have much friends, if you could even call the few people he talked to his friends. Jeremy's backpack sat on the table in front of him, full of his father's guns. He didn't have any friends who really cared about him.

"Yo Germ Boy!" Brandon Jennings voice drew my eyes away for a moment. Jeremy looked across the field in time to see Brandon grab a football from his friend and hurl it at him. He didn't get a chance to try to move and the football slammed into his head before bouncing off to his left. The momentum the ball caused forced Jeremy's head to smash into the table. I cringed and started toward Brandon, irritated at his antics, but my tuned in hearing caught something that made me stop next to the smoker.

"You're first on my fucking list Brandon!" It was whispered in pain, but it still turned my blood into ice.

Brandon laughed as Jeremy lifted his head up and slapped the hand that his friend offered him. "I forgot to tell you: Heads up idiot!"

Jeremy's glare followed Brandon across the schoolyard until he was staring right at me. Then he glared right at me and I sucked in a breath, surprised by how pissed he looked. But he wasn't looking at me really, he was looking at Brandon, who'd stopped to pick on little Jenny.

Asshole is going to get what he deserves, he promised, reaching for his backpack. I started moving forward when he let go of his backpack, and grabbed his head, like it was hurting.

Did I accidentally set off a frequency at him?

The smoker coughed and pointed down at his feet, where mine were crushing his. He glared at me with dark eyes. "That fucking hurts, you know!"