however, is that the people I work for want you dead. Consider this a courtesy call, out of respect for your grandfather. And sister.” With that, the other end closed, and I was left speechless.
George came back with a phone and handed it to me.
“Tim?” I asked the person on the other end.
“Yeah, boss?” Tim replied.
“There’s a hit out for me. Look into it.” I hung up, handed the phone back to George, and headed for the ladies’ restroom. Once at the door, I knocked three times and Audrey came out, looking frightened.
“Is everything okay?” she muttered, trying to get words out through her fear.
“Yes,” I replied calmly, “but I’m not driving you to school. George here will call a buddy of mine who will take you. That buddy will also be looking after you for a little while, so make sure to get his number.”
“What’s going on?” she asked, choking back impending tears.
“I’m just taking extra precautionary measures. You’ll be okay. Just trust me.” I held her shoulders and looked into her eyes.
She just nodded and gave me a hug. “Be safe,” she whispered.
“No promises.” I winked and turned for the door. Before exiting, however, I turned back to George and walked up to his shoulder so Audrey couldn’t hear me speak. “Get me a gun,” I whispered into his ear.
He went into the back, and I followed.
“Look, kid, if you get caught with this, there will be consequences, even for you. You’re going to school. They can’t find this on you.” George looked concerned, and I had never seen him look that way before. George was the one who’d run the family with me after Grandpa died, and then I took over. I was fourteen and needed help—George was there to help.
“George, I won’t get caught. It’s for protection.”
He looked me in the eyes, waited a second, and then handed me a Glock 17. “What’s going on, kid? You’ve never asked me for a gun before.” His voice was frail, genuinely afraid for me.
“That call was a courtesy,” I responded.
“A courtesy for what?” he asked.
“For the contract on my head,” I spoke calmly, without hesitation or fear.
George just stared at me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Over my dead body,” he muttered before pushing me out the door, past Audrey, who could only look at me.
Once outside, I surveyed my surroundings from behind a concrete pillar. No signs of scopes in the windows around me or on the rooftops. I decided that, if I was going to die, I was not going to die by slowly walking and being afraid. I took a step out from behind the pillar and strode over to my car. Then I opened the door, put key in the ignition, and hesitated before turning it.
“No explosion. That’s good,” I muttered to myself as I pulled out of the lot.
Once on the main road, I sped away towards Barrington High School. It was probably the safest place to be. I put the gun in the hidden compartment underneath my seat, but then I decided against that, took it back out, and placed it in my lap just in case something happened at a red light. Nothing happened though. I peacefully got to school.
I parked, put the gun in the compartment under my seat, and quickly walked into school. I still had twenty minutes until second block began, so I headed to the library. Barrington High might have been a miserable place full of miserable people, but one good thing about it was its library. With so many donors, including my father, it stayed fully stocked with the newest and oldest books. It was an immense room, too—octagon in shape with bookshelves on the outskirts and tables and computers in the middle. The library was in the very middle of the school, almost directly behind the grand stairwell.
I opened the door to the library and walked in. Then I pretended to sign in at the counter, smiled at the student assistant behind the desk, and, immediately went over to the poetry section. Poetry is, in my opinion, the truest form of self-expression.
George came back with a phone and handed it to me.
“Tim?” I asked the person on the other end.
“Yeah, boss?” Tim replied.
“There’s a hit out for me. Look into it.” I hung up, handed the phone back to George, and headed for the ladies’ restroom. Once at the door, I knocked three times and Audrey came out, looking frightened.
“Is everything okay?” she muttered, trying to get words out through her fear.
“Yes,” I replied calmly, “but I’m not driving you to school. George here will call a buddy of mine who will take you. That buddy will also be looking after you for a little while, so make sure to get his number.”
“What’s going on?” she asked, choking back impending tears.
“I’m just taking extra precautionary measures. You’ll be okay. Just trust me.” I held her shoulders and looked into her eyes.
She just nodded and gave me a hug. “Be safe,” she whispered.
“No promises.” I winked and turned for the door. Before exiting, however, I turned back to George and walked up to his shoulder so Audrey couldn’t hear me speak. “Get me a gun,” I whispered into his ear.
He went into the back, and I followed.
“Look, kid, if you get caught with this, there will be consequences, even for you. You’re going to school. They can’t find this on you.” George looked concerned, and I had never seen him look that way before. George was the one who’d run the family with me after Grandpa died, and then I took over. I was fourteen and needed help—George was there to help.
“George, I won’t get caught. It’s for protection.”
He looked me in the eyes, waited a second, and then handed me a Glock 17. “What’s going on, kid? You’ve never asked me for a gun before.” His voice was frail, genuinely afraid for me.
“That call was a courtesy,” I responded.
“A courtesy for what?” he asked.
“For the contract on my head,” I spoke calmly, without hesitation or fear.
George just stared at me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Over my dead body,” he muttered before pushing me out the door, past Audrey, who could only look at me.
Once outside, I surveyed my surroundings from behind a concrete pillar. No signs of scopes in the windows around me or on the rooftops. I decided that, if I was going to die, I was not going to die by slowly walking and being afraid. I took a step out from behind the pillar and strode over to my car. Then I opened the door, put key in the ignition, and hesitated before turning it.
“No explosion. That’s good,” I muttered to myself as I pulled out of the lot.
Once on the main road, I sped away towards Barrington High School. It was probably the safest place to be. I put the gun in the hidden compartment underneath my seat, but then I decided against that, took it back out, and placed it in my lap just in case something happened at a red light. Nothing happened though. I peacefully got to school.
I parked, put the gun in the compartment under my seat, and quickly walked into school. I still had twenty minutes until second block began, so I headed to the library. Barrington High might have been a miserable place full of miserable people, but one good thing about it was its library. With so many donors, including my father, it stayed fully stocked with the newest and oldest books. It was an immense room, too—octagon in shape with bookshelves on the outskirts and tables and computers in the middle. The library was in the very middle of the school, almost directly behind the grand stairwell.
I opened the door to the library and walked in. Then I pretended to sign in at the counter, smiled at the student assistant behind the desk, and, immediately went over to the poetry section. Poetry is, in my opinion, the truest form of self-expression.
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