Chapter Nine

        

I sprinted through the winding halls of Saint Mary's, past the peeling paint and faded curtains. I burst into my room and slammed the door, locking it behind me with shaking hands. Mom was reading and I sat at the foot of her bed, trembling with fear.

“James, what's gotten you all shaken up like this?” She asked.

“There's a red truck in the church parking lot.” Mom immediately paled, and I continued. “A red truck with and orange tailgate and no rear bumper.” My father backed into a lamppost and bused up the rear of his truck. He pounded out the bodywork himself, and bought a can of Chevy Red paint, to fix his tailgate. Apparently, this color is improperly named, because it appears to be more orange than red. I foolishly commented that orange was better than pink. That was not a good night.

“Will he come in here? Are we safe?” Mom asked me.

“I don't know. I hope we'll be fine. He shouldn't dare come in here.”

“I have an idea. Clarissa Thompson lives across the hall. I'll ask her if she'll let us camp on the floor of her room. I'm sure she'll let us, we're friends.”

“Good. I'll feel better when we're not alone. Besides, it's not if he knows where we're in. We're perfectly fine here.”

“We're still going next door, it doesn't matter how safe we could be here, I'll feel better too when we're not alone.”

We grabbed our blankets and pillows, and knocked on the door of room 15 B across the hall. A very tired Clarissa answered.

“Tina? Whatcha doin' up at this hour?”

“My husband's in the parking lot, sitting in his truck. Can we bunk in here with you?”

“Dearie, you most certainly must! You've gotta keep away from that no-good dirty rotten husband of yours! He's got no business around here. Here, I've got an extra bed here for you. Sorry James, it looks like you'll have to take the floor.”

“That's okay, I don't mind.” I said as I spread out my blanket on the well-worn carpeting. I could see right away why Mom immediately thought of Clarissa. She weighs about 300 pounds, and looks as if she could stop a tank. I know for a fact she cooks all three meals for Saint Mary's, and she enjoys it. I immediately felt safe, knowing anyone who wanted to get to us would have to try and go through Clarissa.

 

~

 

Without my knowledge, my father observed me and my friends for days, learning my new routines, what hours I was in school, what time my lunch break was, and about what time I went home. He waited until Saturday, when Serena, Nora, and I were in the hospital working on a school project beside the bed of a now-conscious Alex. Shortly after Ser left to get a soda from the vending machine, Chuck Shepherd entered the room, unnoticed until he held his gun to my head.

“My ungracious son. How dare you leave my home and destroy the sanctity of my marriage.” He slurred.

“I only left your home because you forced me to. I could no longer live there. And for the sanctity of your marriage, you yourself have destroyed it long ago.” I replied, watching Nora. She was frozen in fear, her eyes wide. I was slightly less worried than her, because I knew my father's revolver was a collector's piece, and although it was fully functional, he had never shot it. At that exact moment, Serena returned to the room. My father, unwilling to take his eyes off me for even a second, verbalized his curiosity with a call of “Who's there?” Much to my surprise, Serena pulled one of the highlighters we were using to make our English poster out of the pocket of her hoodie, and pressed it to the base of my father's skull.

“Hand me your weapon.” She said in a cool, calm voice. Obligingly, my father held up his hands, allowing Serena to take his pistol. I quickly hurried to the other side of the bed, by Nora. She clung to me like never before. Serena tossed her marker to Ales as she casually aimed the gun at Chuck. She laughed as she looked the revolver.”

“Were you actually intending to shoot anyone with this? It's not even cocked. This thing's classic. You do know you have to pull this hammer back, like this, before every shot?” Serena laughed. “Is this thing even loaded?”

“Of course it is loaded, and I was going to c**k it. I'm not stupid. And how do you know so much about guns? You're just a kid.”

“I'm not 'just a kid,' I'm a young lady of 17 with an ex-army father who gave me a gun very similar to this for my 16^th birthday. We've had a lot of fun with it out on the shooting range, every Thursday evening.” I heard Serena say as I ducked out the door with Nora, to call security.