kids with guns

Part 1

Disclaimer: All of this is fictional, Though it is partly based on true events.

                                                         
      Kids with guns

The Sykora house, 174 Baker street, Birming, Massachusetts. A small house with light gray paint on red bricks. A red door and a grassy yard with soft green grass.

December 12th 1998, 7:30 AM.

He wakes up the same way every morning. He gets out of bed and goes to school. The bullies are already waiting for him. Three of them, they always are there waiting.   He keeps his head down but that doesn't stop them from bothering him. One of the jocks, also a bully, picks him up by the collar of his shirt and slams him against a locker. He's strong and tall. He is not much taller than Kyle though.   "I don't want any trouble guys." He stands tall and mighty even though he isn't physically strong and mighty. They can hurt him all they want because soon enough he'll have his revenge.

Kyle  Sykora hates everyone. Everything. But he's great at hiding it. He cut a classmate with a concealed switchblade he stole from his father who was in the military at the age of ten and was sent to a crisis center. Where he was admitted to several months in the  psychiatric ward of a hospital.

"You don't want any trouble huh?" one of the bullies laughs. Jacob. He's the worst of them and the first he's going to kill. He feels one of them kick his ribs. He laughs quietly. He is going to kill these guys so bad. They taunt him as he walks to class.  He gets to class and sits in the back as usual. There's a new kid in class. He's standing in front of everyone.

"Everyone this is our new student, Campbell Madison." The teacher smiles in front of Kyle's senior class. Campbell sits in back next to Kyle. Kyle's long hair is partially in his face. He swipes it away with one hand.

"Hey." Campbell smiles.

"Hi." Kyle mutters. Who is this kid? Why does he talk to him.

"I could tell you are all alone."

Kyle nods. Not completely looking the kid in the face. Kyle has a slender face, blue eyes and grown out blonde hair that  is messy and down to his shoulders. He almost always wears black. Today he is wearing black converse high tops and dark blue jeans with ripped knees. He's a lanky kid.

Campbell is similar looking to Kyle. But he has black hair shaved in a buzzcut.  He looks not too friendly. He doesn't talk to anyone who tries to talk to him. He walks with his head down.  He doesn't smile much but he looks at people like he plans on killing them. Kyle likes that. At lunch Kyle sits alone. Campbell sits next to him. Kyle scoots over to another chair.

"Have no friends, huh." Campbell chuckles.

"No." Kyle says quietly.

"Well. I could be your friend." Campbell smiles.

"I guess having a friend around here wouldn't hurt."

"Well. I never got your name. What is it?"

"I'm Kyle. Kyle Sykora." Kyle says quietly.

"Hi Kyle. I'm Campbell." the black-haired kid held out his hand.

"I already know your name. But it's nice to meet you." Kyle takes Campbell's hand and shakes it firmly.

They talk the rest of lunch about their life at home.

"My dad's American but my mom is Soviet. She moved here with my dad shortly after I was born." Kyle says.

"Cool. Well my parents are both American so my family is average and American. You know what I mean right?"

"Yeah." Kyle replies.