He was running. But even at his fastest sprint he was running out of time too. Even if he made it in time, how was he to stop what was about to start? The only way would mean throwing himself between his best friend and his enemy.

Three Weeks Earlier


“But isn’t there another way?” Brad asked for at least the tenth time today, and despite his efforts, the answer still hadn’t changed.


“No, Brad. This has been going on for way too long now. This is the only way.” Trent answered with Janie and Todd nodding their heads in agreement.


“We don’t need to though! It’s not that big of a deal! Sure it hurts, but we don’t have to take it this far!” He argued.


“We’ve found you crammed into a locker five times this month Brad! Janie broke her nose after being tripped in the hallway. Todd has gone without lunch all year because everyone always knocks it over, and my car has egg yolks permanently dried to the exterior! It is a big deal!” Trent fought, his voice rising.


“But—”



“Stop fighting it Brad!” The usually quiet Todd interjected, surprising Brad. “Trent is right, and deep down you know it’s true. We’ve been picked on for too long! It has to happen this way. So are you in, or are you out?”


Brent looked around the room uncertainly, not wanting to oppose his friends and sighed. “I’m going to have to think about it guys,” Brad stood up and picked his backpack up off of the ground, then headed out of the backdoor to Trent’s basement. Over his shoulder he said, “I’ll call you later, bye.”


He walked around the side of the house to the front yard where he had left his bike. Just as Brad turned the corner he saw a convertible filled with 5 guys in Letterman jackets peel down the next street. He shook it off as the Varsity jocks from down the street acting like idiots, as always, and continued his trek towards his bike. But when Brad reached the bush he always left his bike leaning up against, it wasn’t there. Starting to panic, Brad searched the whole for his bike, but it was no where to be found. He looked up at the sky in disbelief and then he saw it, a blue glint coming from the tree braches overhead. His bike was perched on the highest branch of the tree in Trent’s front yard. Automatically Brad’s mind shot to the guys who had just been speeding away, and he knew it had been them. How those football playing jerks that just drove away got it up there, Brad didn’t know.


Brad was furious. No, he was beyond furious. He spun on his heel and headed back towards his friends. As marched back to Trent’s basement a thousand thoughts ran through his mind. What the Hell? How could they do that? What had he ever done to them to instill this constant hatred and torture?


The door slammed behind him when he reentered the basement, and his three friends had looks of confusion on their face as he plopped back down on the couch red-faced and white-knuckled. “I’m in,” Brad said taking a long swig from the coke that he’d left on the table not even three minutes before.


“Awesome,” said Trent smiling, grateful that he wouldn’t have to fight with his best friend anymore. “Now, let’s get started. We need to make a list of people to get.”


“Definitely put Amanda and Lindsey on it.” Janie said.


“And the rest of their ‘group’,” Todd added, venom in his voice as he acknowledged our tormentors. “Who is that again?”


“It’s Amanda, Lindsey, Drew, Shelby, James, Logan, and, of course, Sam.” Brad answered, ticking each name off on his fingers.


“Yeah,” Trent agreed. “We can’t forget about Sam.”


“That’s what, seven people now? Isn’t that enough?”Brad asked. Despite his anger, he still wasn’t positive that he wanted anyone to face this punishment. “I mean, it was Sam and his crew who started all of this crap, he’s the one who made it alright for everyone to bully us.”


“No, Brad, we’re the ones who made it possible for them to pick on us! We’re the ones who didn’t fight back! Now’s our chance to get them back for everything they’ve done to us!” Trent exclaimed.


“But—”


“No buts, we’ve been through this,” Janie said, then, changing the subject, “I think we should put the football team and yearbook committee on the list too.”


“The football team I can understand, put them on,” Brad said bitterly, remembering the car of laughing jocks driving away from their latest prank, “but why the yearbook committee?”


“Because they do all of Amanda’s dirty work and tell her about everything that happens in the school. They’ve met everyone and hear everything!” Janie explained, “and they rejected every single picture I submitted for last year’s yearbook,” she added sheepishly.


“Okay, fine.” Todd said, writing down the names of the committee members and the football team.


It went on like this for the next hour, somebody offering up a name, someone questioning it, then after the explanation, Todd writing it down on the now two-page-long list (all the while, Brad was being unusually quiet). Finally, two bags of Salt-and-Vinegar Lays and twelve cans of Coke later, they couldn’t think of anyone else to add. The four got Brad’s bike down from the tree, then said their goodbyes and parted ways.


For the next two weeks it was the same thing. After surviving another day of the torture they call school, they would ride their bikes over to Trent’s house and discuss their plan. And each day Brad grew less sure of it being justifiable.


“Okay, guys, D-day is on Wednesday, so that gives us three days to learn this stuff like the back of our hands,” Trent said, then turning to Todd, he asked, “You’re getting the equipment right?”

“Yep, courtesy of my unobservant father.”


“Great,” Trent replied, then changed his attention to Janie, “What are the times you found again?”


“Sam and his crew sit with the football players and cheerleaders for the obvious reasons of Sam being the quarterback and Amanda and Sydney being on the squad.” Janie began, listing off the information she had written in a spiral notebook. “The yearbook committee meets every Wednesday at 11:20 sharp in the photo lab, and they stay there for the whole lunch hour. The basketball and volleyball teams have practice in the gym during lunch. The math club eats together at the table near the windows—”


“Why the math club again?” Todd interrupted.


“Because,” Trent responded, his answer dripping with a condescending tone, as if the answer “They’ve decided that because they take math at a level two grades ahead of us, it means they have the right to make fun of us, which they don’t.” Then in an after thought, he added, “And, they stole out lunch table.”


Todd nodded as a look of recognition crossed his face. “I miss that table,” Todd said, “it’s warmer there on cold days, and it’s the furthest away from Sam.”


“Which is exactly why we need to get it back,” Trent said. Then with a malicious look in his eye, he added, “one way or another.”


Brad shuddered. Trent had been getting that look in his eye a lot over the past few weeks and it was starting to scare him.


“Okay, let’s get back to business,” Trent said, shaking his head. “We need to plan when and where we will be stationed.”


Two hours later they had it memorized. The plan was set to go into action at 1:30 sharp. Todd was going to cover the photo lab and the teacher’s lounge, then take care of anyone running through the halls or in the bathrooms. Janie was to hit the gym where the volleyball and basketball teams practice, and then help Todd round up any stragglers. Brad was told to go to the pool and get the swim team practicing and then go to the lunchroom, and Trent was going straight to the cafeteria to get his revenge on Sam, and then take care of the rest of the people who had bullied them. After their duties were done, they were going to meet at the abandoned railroads about two miles away at 2:20.


After their meeting that day, Brad was biking the five blocks between his and Trent’s house when he saw him.


Sam.


Today something was different about Sam though. Today, for the first time in Brad’s memory, Sam was without his group of cronies. For once, he was completely alone and completely without back-up; just shuffling down the street with his eyes downcast, kicking a rock. Brad slowed down a little when he realized that Sam hadn’t noticed him yet. He knew that if he timed it right, he could punch Sam without him even realizing it until it was too late. He knew that, with just one hit, he could give Sam a taste of his own medicine.


Brad sped up again, angling his bike to intercept Sam at just the right position.


He was doing it! He was finally going to make Sam feel what he himself had been feeling ever since that day in the 3rd grade when Sam decided that Brad was just too dorky to be best friends with anymore.


Three houses away.


Sam was finally going to be the victim here!


Two houses.


Brad was going to be the one on top, if only for this moment. He would be the one to cause the other pain. He would be the one throwing the punch. He would be stooping to Sam’s level. Does he really want to stoop to his level?


One.


Does he really want to do the exact thing that he cursed Sam for doing? Does he want to sink that low?


Ten feet.


Brad reared his hand back, getting ready to deliver the blow.


Three feet.


He started to bring his fist forward with all the strength he could muster, but as Sam looked up with a flash of shock dancing upon his face, Brad swerved his bike, planting his fist on the handlebars and speeding home.


Brad was appalled with himself for two reasons. One for the fact that he’d almost sank to Sam’s level and punch an unsuspecting person, whether he was Sam or not. The other for the fact that he’d let that moment slip away without using it. But by the time he got home he let himself off of the hook after he realized that he’d be getting all of the revenge he needed soon enough.


Soon enough came too soon though. The next thing he knew, Brad was standing in the parking lot outside of the school with his three friends, surrounding Trent’s car.


“Have at it,” Todd said, unzipping a duffle bag to reveal the four automatic guns that he had expertly swiped from his dad’s pawn shop.


“Man! How’d you take these without your dad noticing?” Janie asked in awe.


Todd smiled, “With a little help from Mr. Jack Daniels, my dad has no idea what happens in that shop. Not to mention the place is loaded with these bad boys. Four missing for one day isn’t going to matter.”


“This is excellent,” said Trent, with that look in his eyes once again, giving Brad a chill, “Load up guys, D-day starts in 20 minutes.


Brad felt a gun shoved into his hands but it didn’t faze him. He was trapped in a daze, hoping with all of his might that Trent would turn around and say, “Ha! I got you! This was all a joke!” but that never happened. Instead he watched as his three best friends tucked the guns into the waist band of their jeans and walked to the school like they did this all of the time. Brad did the same. Unaware of how he was going to go through with this when just three days ago he wimped out on punching Sam.


The four parted ways, each headed to their own destination. Brad made his way through the halls, and to the pool, standing just outside of the doors that led inside. He looked down at his watch which read 1:27. Three minutes until D-day began. Three minutes until all of the people in that room practicing, and everywhere else in the school for that matter, were dead. Dead! Three minutes until their lives were ended. And for what? Making fun of him on a few occasions? Did he really want to be a murderer? Brad looked through the windows to the pool once more, to where his unsuspecting peers were swimming laps in the choppy water and he made his decision.


Brad took a deep breath, and before he could change his mind, opened the door to the pool. The swim coach and some dripping wet swimmers looked up in confusion. Brad saw their eyes lock upon the sleek black gun in his hand and stare at it in horror as one girl screamed.


He took another step inside and then held the gun out in front of him. Taking another deep breath Brad let it clatter to the floor and yelled, “Someone call the cops! There’s going to be a shooting!” Without a moments hesitation he turned around and ran, at a full sprint, towards the cafeteria.


He ran through the halls, passing the lockers he’d been shoved into a countless amount of times; racing past the water fountains he’d had his faced dunked into; flying past the classrooms which had been his personal torture chambers for the past three years.


He was running. But even at his fastest sprint he was running out of time too. Even if he made it in time, how was he to stop what was about to start? The only way would mean throwing himself between his best friend and his enemy.


Brad burst through the double doors to the lunchroom and spun around, searching for Trent. He couldn’t find him in the crowd of students, but even though he couldn’t see Trent, Brad knew him well enough to know that he would go to Sam first. Brad ran towards Sam’s table and got there just in time to see Trent ten feet away reaching for the gun at his hip. Brad ignored the snide comments coming from the table full of jerks behind him and stalked forward, his whereabouts still unknown to Trent.


“TRENT!” Brad yelled, gaining the attention of most of his classmates, “You can’t do this!”


Trent looked over to Brad with utter shock on his face. “What are you doing? You’re screwing everything up!” he yelled.


“That’s the point! Put the gun down! What you’re doing is wrong!” Brad yelled over the screaming bystanders.


“I’m not the one going behind my best friend’s back!”


Brad took a cautious step forward, holding his hands out in front of him, hoping he could stall long enough for the cops to get here. “Just put the gun down, Trent.”


Trent contemplated, and after a few long seconds which had felt like minutes, he sighed “okay,” and there was a collective exhale in relief as it looked like Trent was bending down to put the gun on the floor. But instead of letting the gun clatter to the floor, in one fluid movement he stood back up and aimed the gun saying in a steady voice, “After this.”


Brad had been expecting this though. He launched himself at Trent, slamming into him just as he pulled the trigger. There was a blinding flash, deafening bang, and excruciating pain as Brad was hit by the bullet. Brad screamed, and clutched his leg while his vision clouded over with the pain. He looked towards the doors just in time to see a group of police officers run through them, before he succumbed to the sweet, painless bliss of unconsciousness.


He woke up in a hospital bed, the pain in his leg now just a dull throbbing. Judging from the calendar on his bedside table, he’d been out for a whole day. Brad looked around the hospital room at the cliché get-well-soon balloons and bouquets of flowers in every open space. Brad smiled to himself, and was just pulling the card from the biggest bouquet when a police officer came in.


“Hello, Brad, I’m officer—”


Brad cut him off, “Who died?”


“I’m not entitled to tell you.” He said, looking stricken.


“Who died?” Brad said again, this time a little harsher.


The officer broke, “Six people were killed and, with you included, 11 injured.”


“What will happen to them?”


“They will be put on pain killers and some—”


“No,” Brad said, “I mean my friends. What will happen to them?”


“Oh,” the officer said, his voice softening. He sat down in the chair next to Brad and put a hand on Brad’s shoulder. “Well that will have to be decided in court later. Now, Brad, I need to take a statement from you about yesterday.”


Brad looked around the room, tears welling into his eyes. “Uh, can you come back another time? I’m… uh… not exactly feeling very composed right now,” Brad said.


“Sure.” The officer stood to leave. When he reached the doorway, he turned back to face Brad and said, “Hey, listen, you should be proud, you saved a lot of lives yesterday. Your whole school thinks you’re a hero.”


“I could have saved them all.” Brad said under his breath. He watched the officer leave, then, once he was alone, he read the card from the flowers.


It read:


THANKS

-S


It was so simple, but to Brad it said so much more.