Killers Come In All Ages

• Ella Moroney, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2018

Aisha leant over her test paper and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. The more she tried to focus, the blurrier the paper seemed to get. Aisha scrubbed a hand vigorously across her face and sighed. She knew she shouldn't have let Sara stay the night. The two had been awake all night, listening to Sara's latest music fad ("It's called Celtic Rock, Aish, isn't it awesome?") and eating their weight in junk food instead of studying for the finals like they should have been. With a quick glance to the side of the classroom, she saw Sara's face slipping further into her hand as she fell asleep. "So much for the perfect score." Aisha smiled to herself. Outside of the small room, she could hear students running down the hallway hurriedly, and the distant sound of laughter. Despite the horrible headache pounding in her skull, Aisha felt at peace. There was no place she felt more comfortable than the grounds of Maple High School. Pulling herself out of her thoughts, Aisha groggily returned to the paper in front of her. ‘The letter 'h' on the periodic table represents:’ H. What was 'h' again? Helium? Hydrogen? Aisha chewed on the end of her pencil and wracked her brain desperately. Oh! That's it! Aisha pressed the pencil against the paper just as the classroom door swung open. She jerked her head up and stared at the figure in the doorway. In seemingly slow-motion, Aisha watched her teacher rise and yell "Hey! You can't be in-" He was cut off abruptly when the figure raised his arm and fired the pistol in his hand. Screams echoed through the classroom. Aisha ducked under her desk. The shooter was coming closer now, the gunshots bursting in her eardrums as Aisha crawled desperately towards Sara. Maybe they could get out of this. In a rushed blur, Aisha dodged the flying arms and legs of her classmates as they attempted to get to the exit. She neared Sara her hand stretching out to grab hers, when a heavy boot landed atop her wrist. The assailant dropped dead before she could see who it was. Aisha’s lungs burned from the strain. Thoughts were racing around her head. This couldn’t be happening. Not to them. Not to their school. This was something that happened to kids on the news. Sara met her eyes desperately, reaching toward her. Before she could move forward, a hand grabbed her from behind and slammed her head into the leg of a desk next to her. Aisha barely had time to scream out in pain before the shooter was upon her. Ben, from English Lit, stood above her with hate in his eyes. The last thing she heard before the gun fired once more was his haunting laughter, much closer than it had been before.