The King of Nastimus
C.O. Deiley
Chapter 1
“We’re going in there, and we will deactivate that bomb. The fate of millions rest upon us,” I said loudly, pacing the small room.
“Are we going to let that bomb explode?”
“NO!” My team yelled out. It consisted of about ten people, but with the faith and skill, we could take out a hundred people.
“Let’s go,” I replied smoothly. My team and I could easily get to the Oonago Building, but getting past the terrorists could cause a bit of trouble. I bit my lip. I knew we could do it.
Before long, (in fact, almost no time at all) we were inside the building, running around in the dark. The bomb was in the basement of the building. My team was positioned on different posts around the first and second floors, ready to attack if needed. I had volunteered to deactivate the bomb. This was what I was waiting for…the adventure of my life.
Ever-so-quietly, I snuck into the basement, and pulled out my specially made wire cutters and walked out to the bomb. I dug in my pocket for my flashlight, just to make sure I didn’t cut the wrong wire. If I did anything wrong, it would be the end for me and my team! I glanced at the numbers flashing in red, like a digital clock. It read 1:15. I had nearly a minute to figure out which wire was the right one, cut it, and get out of this place.
Nervously, I examined the wires. It was the blue one. I had to cut the blue one…or was it the orange one. I had 40 seconds left. I fumbled with my flashlight to get a better look at where things went. No, both the orange and the blue started and ended in the same place. 25 seconds…a sweat had started to break out on my brow. I wiped it with the back of my glove.
“You doin’ ok?” one of my team members asked on a walkie-talkie.
“I sure hope,” I replied.
10 seconds left. Blue or orange, blue or orange? 5 seconds…my hand slipped and I nearly dropped the cutters. 4 seconds. If I didn’t do something fast…the bomb started to beep, fast at first, then slowed down. Not good. 3 seconds, now or never. I picked my wire-cutters and snipped the orange one. Just then, I heard a different beeping noise…the noise a bomb makes when it’s about to go off. I held my breath and ran. Before I could get anywhere however, I tripped and fell. I seemed to fall an eternity, until I hit something soft, and cushiony.
I opened my eyes and turned my head. The annoying beeping sound was coming from my alarm clock. Its face read 6:31. It had all been a dream. Angrily, I unplugged the stupid alarm clock and stuffed it in my closet. It woke me up, just at the good part too! Argh, things never work out my way…I sat up in my bed and recalled my dream. The bomb, the nervousness, the countdown, it all seemed so real! I stood up and stretched before walking down the hallway to the bathroom. I entered, leaving the light off, of course. Bright light is just too much to get accustomed with this early in the morning.
I eventually turned on the light, and looked at my sleep flushed, squinting face in the mirror. My light brown bed head stuck out at different places since I didn’t take the liberty of brushing last night. I quickly brushed it and added a bit of gel to it to make stay and stumbled back to my room.
I had to find my homework, shoes, and something to wear for both school and practice. I had a basketball jersey from last year hanging in my closet, so I just wore that a pair of jeans. I picked up my homework from my desk, stuffed it into my backpack, and found my shoes. Unlike other people, I don’t just cram my foot into my shoes. I love my shoes. They’re my first pair of real live, honest to God, basketball shoes. Nike Airs to be exact. I don’t wear anything but a Nike…I’m very picky about my shoes.
I carried my backpack downstairs and set it on the kitchen table. Bright sunlight was streaming through the kitchen windows, illuminating everything with a bright golden glow. Deciding to keep the kitchen light off to enjoy the sun, I walked over to the pantry and grabbed a box of shredded wheat. And sugar. Mom usually gets mad at me for putting too much sugar on my cereal, but she had to go to work early for once. I was all alone, just me and my sugar…
Covering the top of the bowl with the sweet stuff, I dug in. It only took me five minutes to finish everything. After putting my bowl in the dishwasher, I put on a sweatshirt on, followed by my backpack. School was not even a 2 minute walk away, so I didn’t need to hurry. As I walked out of my front door, my best friend, Emily Richardson, walked out of her house at the same exact time. Yeah, she’s a girl. And if you misunderstood me, she’s a friend. Not a girlfriend. I hate when people say that.
Anyway, our friendship dated back to sandboxes and Barney. We met in a daycare over a tower of blocks. I smiled at the memory and walked over to her.
“Hey, James,” she said, pulling her shoes on. She always put her shoes on outside. It didn’t matter if it was raining or snowing, or if the Loch Ness monster came walking up the street, her shoes would go on outside.
“Hey, Em,” I said, sitting down next to her, “Some math homework last night, wasn’t it?”
“If you’re asking me if it was hard, you’re nuts. It was simple algebra. Need I remind you that I’ve been doing algebra since 3rd grade?” she said, standing up. The sun shone off her bright blonde hair. Yeah, she’s the kind of kid who does math for fun and reads the dictionary when there’s nothing else to read. But that’s never happened before, because she’s always got at least three books to read. So do I.
“I hope we get to keep our math books this year,” I said, cringing at the thought of inequalities. Math’s not my best subject, and I absolutely hate the teacher. He hates me as well. Three detentions I’ve gotten from him this semester.
“Why’s that?”
“So I can burn the filthy subject to bits!” I laughed.
“Better not let Osbert hear that. He’ll give you another detention,” she said. Osbert is the Math teacher. Well, Mr. Osbert is his name…but Osbert is just fine for me.
“Oh, he’s not going to give me a detention. He can’t. I’ve done the work. He can’t make up a lie about me NOT doing the work, because I did do it-…”
“For the first time in who knows how long,” Em finished for me.
“Hey, the guy gave me a detention for chewing on the end of my pencil, and another for looking at the ceiling. He doesn’t like me Em,” I said, kicking a stone.
She rolled her eyes.
“Anyway, I can’t get another detention. Basketball tryouts are over today. I’m making varsity, I can tell you,” I said, sticking out my chest.
“You probably are. You’ve been playing since you were three feet high! Now, come on, we need to get to the library” She exclaimed, quickening her pace. We always got to school early to get to the library.
Chapter 2: Math Homework
In less than thirty seconds, we walked in the doors of Patrick Henry School District and walked to our lockers which were down the hall from one another.
“Hey Em, we have Language first, right?” I called to her.
“Math,” she responded. My heart sank. Language Arts was not only my best subject, but my favorite as well. Yeah, I love to read and write for that matter. Great, so now I had time to get poisoned before lunch.
I sighed and picked up my math book, making sure I had my homework with me. Just to make sure, I put it in my pocket. Closing my locker, I turned around and headed down the 8th grade hall to the library, right behind Em. Ever since 5th grade, the library had been our homeroom. Well, sort of. We never even went to our real homerooms, and Mrs. Ebler didn’t mind us there. She even had us work desk or shelve books for her sometimes. The school had all 13 grades in it, Kindergarten through 12th. It got busy in there, and it was a big library, but that meant there were books on everything you could think of, for all ages. Everything from Doctor Seuss to Moby Dick to Shakespeare to The Odyssey. It was great…in fact, I hadn’t gone into a bookstore in ages!
“Hello Emily, James. How are you today?” Mrs. Ebler asked.
“Miserable,” I answered, sitting at one of the tables.
“Why’s that. Finished another book?”
“No, I’ve got math first. Mr. Osbert is going to find some way or another to poison me,” I exclaimed a bit too loudly. Two 9th grade girls looked over at me and rolled their eyes.
“Oh, stop worrying. You did the work,” Em said from the desk.
“Yeah, well…” I said, laying my head down on my math book. Stupid math…
“Now, if you’re not doing anything, help Emily on the desk…or even better, shelf books,” Mrs. Ebler said, turning back to the BA-BE shelf she was organizing.
“I’ll be right back, I need to go to the bathroom,” I replied, getting up and leaving.
The hallways were pretty quiet, but then again, it was still half an hour until school officially started and most people were still sleeping. I walked into the boy’s bathroom and…well, you don’t need the details. As I was washing my hands, the door flew open and someone I really disliked walked in. His name was Mortimer Hinkle. Nobody called him Mortimer Hinkle. Nobody. If you did, you’d be eating everything through a straw for the next month and a half. He was in 8th grade, but had been held back several years. He was what people would call a sleezeball. He was the kind of kid who you’d expect to see in a box in an alley way selling drugs when he was in his twenty’s. What he was doing here this early was a mystery to me.
“Oh look, it’s little Jamesie, washing his hands in the bathroom,” he said, cracking his knuckles. Gulp…it’s never a good sign when bullies crack their knuckles. I ignored him.
“What’s in your pocket, Deferer?” he asked, advancing on me, blocking my way out. I took a step backwards.
“N-nothing, why do you ask?” I said quietly. I knew I shouldn’t have brought my birthday money along! I had twenty dollars in my pocket. I was going to pick up something to eat after practice.
“Well, my old man didn’t wake up this morning to make me a lunch, and I ain’t got no money,” he said, taking another couple steps toward me. I took another couple steps back. Now, don’t get me wrong; I’m not bullied often. I wasn’t singled out byt this guy, he just picked on anyone who was there. Most were too scared to stand up to him, me included. Em wasn’t though, but that’s because she was intimidating. She had something about her…
“Why didn’t you make it yourself?” I asked. He was stupid, so maybe I could make him forget what he was here for.
“Because I didn’t feel like it,” he said, taking one more step towards me. I took another step, my last before I hit the wall. I was cornered. Crap.
“Now, empty your pockets!” he demanded, grabbing the front of my shirt and lifting me up off my feet.
“I-I don’t have anything,” I lied. Maybe he’d buy it…
He didn’t. Instead, he snarled in my face. His breath reeked of nicotine. Then he picked me up and slammed me against the tile wall, knocking the breath out of me. Ouch.
“Empty your pockets now, Deferer,” he said threateningly, smashing my back and head into the tile again. Double ouch.
“Alright…” I finally agreed. I knew he wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted.
He dropped me to my feet with a smug smile on his face. I pulled out the crisp twenty dollar bill and my homework (accidentally), which he grabbed from my hand.
I tried to get to him to retrieve the homework, but he held me back with a stiff arm
“Math homework?” he sneered, opening up the folded piece of paper and taking it over to a toilet, “Hope you don’t need this.”
He dropped began to rip the paper into tiny pieces over a toilet, letting them fall in like snowflakes.
“No!” I cried, attempting to stop him. It was like trying to prevent an earthquake. With a sinister cackle, he left, leaving the bathroom in an eerie, ringing silence. I hurriedly picked up the few strips that luckily ‘missed’ the toilet and flew out of the library. After all, I only had 15 minutes to re-complete the assignment.
I fairly flew back to the library, but on my way, I bumped into someone. The force of my body caused us both to topple over.
“I’m sorry!! See, I’m in this huge hurry to get back to homeroom to finish my Math home--,” I started. I cut myself short when I saw who I had run into. It was Mr. Osbert. He picked himself (and my scraps of paper) up off the floor and studied them both intently.
“That’s not my fault!” I cried desperately. Today was just getting steadily worse, even though officially, school hadn’t even started yet.
“And I suspect you actually had it done, didn’t you, Mr. Deferer?” he asked me mockingly, glaring at me with thin eyes. I don’t know why Mr. Fatso didn’t like me. For some reason, I wasn’t good enough, or something.
“Yes, I did!” I proclaimed.
“And then you decided to use it for toilet paper, I presume,” he replied, throwing the scraps in my face, “If you redo that, I will fail you for this semester. The word homework has the word home in it for a reason.”
“I told you, I did it at home!” I retorted through clenched teeth.
“And now you are fully disrespecting me by back talking. Mr. Deferer, I will see you during your lunch period!”
“But sir, I need to eat! I’ve got basketball tryouts later today!” I exclaimed.
“Then be thankful I haven’t given you detention yet! I will see you in my classroom in 10 minutes for class,” he said, turning away from me.
I winced and watched his egg-shaped body waddle away.
10 minutes wasn’t a lot…I slumped against the wall behind it and was thinking about how hard it would be to ‘mysteriously’ obtain a concussion by banging my head into the wall when I heard someone say my name.
“James? Is something the matter?” It was the janitor, Mr. Sneed.
Mr. Sneed was pretty neat. He was very quiet, but he helped me. A lot. If I forgot my homework in my locker, I’d ask to go to the bathroom and find Mr. Sneed somewhere in the hallways. He’d run to my locker while I hung out in the bathroom for a little, and then get me my homework. We had a pretty cool routine going on. In short, he was an awesome guy.
“See, I did my homework, but when I went to the bathroom, er…Mortimer Hinkle kinda ripped it to shreds before I could stop him. Now, I can’t even go redo it! Mr. Osbert knows, and he said he’d totally flunk me for the whole semester if he found out I redid it! Worse, he wants me in his office at lunch! I need to eat! Basketball tryouts are today, and I--,” I said, rambling like a caffeinated five year old. Mr. Sneed held up a hand to stop me.
“James, you have to stop doing this,” he said, his voice tired.
“But I told you, I did do it! I had it done! I had it in my pocket so I wouldn’t forget it, and then he told me to take out my money, and when I did, my homework fell out, and he took it, ripped it up, and laughed,” I explained quickly. Mr. Sneed sighed.
“I’ll talk to him, James, but I’m not sure if I can get you out of it this time,” he said, shaking his head.
“But you’ll talk to him, and tell him it’s not my fault?” I asked hopefully. He nodded.
“Thank you!” I said, ecstatically. Mr. Sneed smiled.
“Now, the bell’s about to ring, and I doubt Mr. Osbert will appreciate you being late.” I nodded and dashed into the library. With Mr. Sneed on my side, I was sure I’d win.
Inside Osbert’s Office and the Practice
I had History next, possibly the most boring subject, followed by Spanish, Geography and science. As my lunch hour drew closer and closer, I became sick to my stomach with grief. Mr. Osbert couldn’t give me another detention…he just couldn’t! All of my fingernails on my left hand were chewed down to the cuticle. I felt like I was going on trial for a crime I didn’t commit. But lunch rolled around, faster than usual because I didn’t want it too. As soon as the lunch bell rang, I groaned and headed to Mr. Osbert’s room, ready to face my punishment.
When I got there, the door was open a crack. Mr. Osbert was talking to someone—Mr. Sneed. He must’ve only found time to talk to Mr. Osbert now. Not that I minded. No punishment still meant no punishment, and no punishment was a heck of a lot better than actual punishment. I placed my ear to the door to listen to the conversation, curious to see what was going on.
“Please, just give him a chance. He’s going to be under a lot of pressure soon. I’ve explained to you why,” Mr. Sneed said slowly. I could just imagine the look Mr. Osbert was giving him.
“And you suspect me to believe some cock and bull story about this kid? He can’t remember to get his homework in on time, how’s he going to do that?” Mr. Osbert responded incredulously. I hadn’t the slightest clue what they were talking about, so I kept listening.
“Jerrold, his father just died. Lighten up,” Mr. Sneed responded softly. Whoa, that was a nice lie.
Truthfully, I never even knew my father. Mom never talked about him, and we didn’t own a picture. I just kinda grew up knowing I only had Mom.
“That’s not my problem, William! I didn’t kill his father! And now you want me to believe that there’s another world out there somewhere? I think you’re in need of mental help. Now where is Deferer? He’s late,” Osbert said. I expected Mr. Sneed to walk out know, but I didn’t. I heard the scrape of the chair against the floor and the metallic clang of something.
“Listen to me, Jerrold. He doesn’t need any more of this. You continually point him out for the rest of your class. You’re nothing but a bully. And bullies are nothing but cowards.” Mr. Sneed’s threatening whisper was so quiet, I had to strain my ears to listen. Nothing came from Mr. Osbert, until the door opened and I flew backwards to make it look as though I had been waiting this whole time without eavesdropping.
Mr. Osbert stepped out, his face very pale. He took one look at me, let out a scared whimper like a new-born puppy, and ran down the hallway. Totally confused, I pushed opened the door and walked into my math teacher’s classroom. Mr. Sneed was standing there, one hand pressed to his forehead, the other being used to lean on a desk. He looked like he was in major pain. I also glanced to his hand, which was clutching something that looked like a long knife.
“Mr. Sneed, do you want me to get the Nur--,” I started.
“Leave me, James,” he replied, not turning to face me. I didn’t leave. “Go, NOW!”
That left no question. Fury and pain was all wrapped up in Mr. Sneed’s command. He wanted me out of there now.
After lunch (or the lunch hour, seeing how I didn’t exactly eat anything) I had Language. Finally, my favorite subject! But even though it usually cheered me up, it did nothing for me today. My teacher, Mrs. Underman, was especially happy today, because it was poetry day. Her favorite. And mine usually, but I was lost to the abyss of my mind at the time. She assigned a poem to be turn in next Tuesday. After that, I had study hall in the library and then Basketball…maybe that could cheer me up a little.
Study hall passed quickly, just like everything else that day, and once the bell rang for athletics, I dashed to my locker, and met Em on her way down to the Girl’s locker room. She was doing volleyball right now.
“What’d Osbert do to you? Did Mr. Sneed stop him in time?” she asked eagerly.
“Nothing,” I replied vaguely.
“You mean you got off scot-free?” She asked, stunned. Nobody ever went into Osbert’s office and got off scot-free before, “What’d you do?”
“Alright, you won’t believe it, but I think Mr. Sneed tried to kill Osbert,” I replied.
“What!?” she asked in disbelief.
“Hey, would I lie to you?”
She repressed a laugh.
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
“See! I knew you wouldn’t believe me!” I accused.
“I never said I didn’t believe you!”
“Look, I heard part of their conversation! Mr. Sneed told Osbert to lighten up on me, because I was about to get hit with a huge blow, and then when Mr. Osbert sent him away, Mr. Sneed threatened him,” I started.
“Are you serious?” she asked, still in disbelief.
“I knew you wouldn’t believe me!” I repeated.
“No, no, I believe you! Is that what seriously happened?” she asked eyes wide in wonder.
“Of course that’s what really happened! Why would I lie about that?” I asked.
“No way!” she gasped.
“Look, do you believe me or not?” I asked, approaching the Boy’s locker room.
“I believe you…but it makes no sense!” she said.
“Yeah, neither does Math, but I have to go through that everyday, don’t I?” I pushed the door open and walked inside the locker room.
“Ready for practice?” Freddy Green asked, tying his shoes on.
“I wish,” I replied. Last day of tryouts had always gone through school like a legend. Especially in basketball. You would run hard, or be cut. You would miss one shot and be cut. Today was the day that decided everything. God, I wish I was ready. I was easily the best 8th grader on that team. I don’t mean to brag or anything, but I was! I’d been playing since Pre-K, worrying about nothing else. I could take on a senior, one-on-one and win. I was good. So what did I have to worry about? Oh, just about everything.
We got out in the gym and made a mad rush at the balls to start warming up, though the shots were taken slowly, careful not to miss the basket. Then the coach walked in.
“Ok men, take your fifteen,” he was talking about laps. A couple years ago, I would’ve stood there with my mouth agape, staring at him like he was a nut asking me to run fifteen laps around the gym. But now it was normal. I finished 5th, my best record yet, then we stretched. I was all in sync until we were half-way into practice. Then, I started losing it. We were running 6-to-1’s (basically, 42 widths of the court) and I lost it. My breathing came in short burst, my legs felt ready to fall off, and I was forced to jog the rest of the way. I had never gotten tired running 6-1’s before. Ever. I’d been running to get my muscle tone up since the season ended last year. I had no reason to be tired.
A few minutes later, we were scrimmaging each other, 3-on-3. On my team was me, Danny Folker and Greg Edwards. We were against Freddy Green, Don Pedro, and Tim Metro. We had this game in the bucket. I brought the ball in from the three point line and passed it to Danny. Or at least I thought I passed it to Danny. Turns out he was on the other side of the court. The ball flew out-of-bounds…turnover.
Then, when we were playing full court, I was passed the ball. My lane was clear to the basket, a clear breakaway! I dribbled as though my life depended on it. I took the lay-up, and it went in. I ran back to my team, already on the other side of the court. They were rolling their eyes at me, looking peeved. Peter came up and patted me on the back. Wait…he was on the other team! The rude truth hit me. I had just shot for the other team! How did that happen? I had even been at our end of the court. I could feel my face turn red. I had made so many mistakes that practice…I didn’t shoot right, I forgot simple plays, and I just stood there, not doing anything. It was horrible.
“Alright men, bring it in, bring it in. Get the balls as well!” Coach Doug called. We huddled up and he told us how we did.
“Despite the errors,” he said, obviously meaning me, “that have occurred today, you guys had a good practice. Now, go get dressed and I’ll tell you guys what team you made.”
We walked over to the locker room, trying not to hurt our legs anymore than possible. I got my jeans and coat on, then slumped my backpack over my shoulder. I had a feeling Coach Doug’s news wouldn’t be good.
“Ah, James, there you are,” he said, looking at his clipboard.
“Just tell me I’m cut already,” I mumbled.
“What makes you think you’re going to be cut?” he asked. He was only trying to make me feel better. I didn’t reply.
“James, I noticed you were a bit…out of touch today, but I’m not going to cut you. I’ve decided to keep you as a reserve for JV,” he said optimistically, as though he just told me I had won the lottery. I was probably standing there with my mouth agape, looking like some fool. I felt like a fool. I wanted to cry, really I did. But I didn’t. Instead, I walked, enraged to the door. I wrenched it open….I wanted to wrench it off its hinges. I wanted to kick something.
I didn’t wait for Em like I had done for years previous, but started my way home on my own. I took long, angry strides. I was mad. No, I was beyond mad. I was in full on furious. Coach Doug had been my coach for three years! THREE! I could just scream. Night had long since fallen and the full moon was pulling out from behind a cloud. At this point, I wish he would’ve cut me! No, but now, I still had to kill myself at practice and for what? TO BE A RESERVE! It just wasn’t fair…
Chapter 3: Anonymous Messages
I climbed up our porch and fished my key out of my back-pack. My mom wasn’t home yet, so I still had the house to myself. Our golden retriever, Herbie, greeted me.
“Did you hear boy? I did horribly and I didn’t even get cut…I’m only a reserve for JV…” I said, opening his can of dog food.
“You know, I sometimes wish that maybe…just maybe…I could go on the adventure that the main character has in a book. You know, fighting evil doers, saving people…I wish that could happen to me…I wish I didn’t have to go through everyday life anymore…I wish I didn’t have to live here,” he just wagged his tail happily. I patted him on the head and lowered his bowl down to him, then checked the messages.
Three from mom and one from Em. Mom’s were all the same, tiresome and apologetic, as usual. Em’s was wondering why I didn’t wait for her. Then, there was someone else’s…it was a man, about middle aged. It was an odd message.
“Hi James,” it started, “You don’t know who this is, but I need you to go outside your house and walk under your streetlight for about thirty seconds. NO, I’m not an ax murderer, but I think I know a way to…to get you on the basketball team,” the message ended.
Ok, so it was probably one of the guys from the team. They had probably pushed their dad’s into doing it to cheer me up. It was probably Freddy, or Greg. I picked up the phone to call Greg to see what was up, but there was no dial tone. Creepy. I tried to push the phone message to the back of my head and went over to the freezer to get some Mint Chocolate Chip Ice cream, and perhaps some cookie dough as well. I opened the freezer and sighed. We were all out of ice cream. I’m never hungry right after practice, so I went into the living without “dinner.”
I flopped on the chair, picked up the remote, and turned on the T.V. Jeopardy was on, so I decided to watch it. I was a good 15 minutes into shouting out answers when I saw a shadow outside my window. Not a very big one, but big enough to be concerned. I rubbed my eyes and went to the window, ready to see what it could be. It just stood there, like it was waiting for me.
Thoroughly creeped out at this point, I closed the curtain. The mysterious phone message came into my mind…Maybe I should follow its instructions…maybe I really could get back on the team…yeah, and maybe I should just cool down. It probably didn’t mean anything…probably just a wrong number…but then how did the caller know my name and my problem? I was getting chills now.
I thought I couldn’t get any more freaked than I already was…then the power shut off. Ok, now I was freaked out. It was just my house too…Em’s lights were on and the streetlight as well…this was not good. I quickly peered out the window to see if the shadow was still there. It was. Trust me; it didn’t make me feel any better…
I stumbled around the house, looking for where Mom kept the matches and candles. The only place I could think of was the cupboard that she kept locked and bolted tight due to a bit of a firework accident where I almost blew up the tree in our backyard. Thanks Mom…
I remembered telling Mom yesterday that we needed a new flashlight, so the only thing I could do was wait for the electricity to come back on. Maybe I’d head over to Em’s house. Had I cooled off enough? Maybe it really was Greg, trying to get me back on the team…Before long, my curiosity got the better of me. I pulled on my jacket and slipped out the door.
The bright white light in front of my house was quite a welcoming beacon after obsessing in the dark for about 5 minutes. I’m tellin’ you, I didn’t feel any better outside than I did inside though. The message told me to stand in the light for about thirty seconds. Why, I had no clue. Maybe this guy just wanted to get a look at me. It was pretty cold outside, so I hugged my worn-out jean jacket.
I walked under the bright light and started to count. 1…2…3…4…before I knew it, ten seconds went by. So far so good. Ten more seconds. I remember thinking I must be crazy, listening to an anonymous message on my answering machine. It was probably Mortimer Hinkle, wanting to embarrass me again. I was on twenty five when I heard a twig snap behind me. I quickly spun around, but no one was there. I was about to walk back inside and go hide in my closet with a blanket over my head until my mom came home. Seriously, I was thinking that. Then, a cold hand slipped around my mouth, preventing me from saying anything. My heart leapt into my throat and I could feel sweat forming on my brow.
“Do not say anything. I have little use for you. I am not afraid to kill you,” A man’s voice snarled in my ear. I heard the unfamiliar cling of a knife being snapped out of a scabbard, but had imagined it enough times to know what it was. I nodded, scared to death of whom this guy could be. I was so stupid! How could I come out here after only hearing an anonymous phone message? Now, I was literally in the hands of a murderer who had just threatened to kill me. Could life get any better?
“I am very sorry about this, but you are not authorized to see where we are going so…” the voice said. Then, without warning, he brought the hilt of his knife down on my head. Everything went black.
A/N: Yeah, I know. It's sucky, but I'm gonna rewrite it. It was put on here by request.
