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of the line of sight
of the guy holding the gun. He was ranting so fast at the girls that I couldn’t
understand what he was he was saying. I hoped I could get to someone before—
    “What the hell are you doing, Jennings? Drop the damn gun!”
Brand yelled.
    For a second I just stared at Brand—shocked by his idiocy. The
jock looked over at us, and in full  profile  it
clicked in my head as to who he was. I groaned. Karl Jennings was a basketball
jock who had a tattoo of a heavy black inked statement—‘B-ball is GOD’ on the
inside of his right forearm. He was arrogant on the basketball court, arrogant
in class, and now, he was an arrogant asshole with a gun. A
gun that he was quick to turn and point right at Brand.
    I yelled. “Jennings, no! Stop what
you’re doing! This is crazy!”
    Jennings cried out. “You! Hagen!  Houseman!  Get out of here! This isn’t about you! It’s
about me, Diana, and her bitch of a girlfriend!”
    I started to grab for Brand to move out of Jennings’s line of
sight and missed as said idiot friend stalked towards Jennings. He said, “Fuck off,
Jennings! Do you really think you’re going to shoot me, fucker? Then you’d
better hit me! Otherwise, I’ll kill you!”
    For a moment, I stared at Brand as he took fists into a
gunfight. Oh sure, he had accepted that the end was coming—not! I now knew that
he had been afraid all this time, and it was  all coming  out
as rage. And, to him, all of this showed up at just the right time with the
stupid jock about to shoot these girls. Now Brand had something to take his
frustrations out  upon .
    But Jennings obviously didn’t care. I could see that the guy was
insane. Without really aiming the gun, Jennings pulled the trigger. The hallway
had lockers on each side, inset into the walls. The lockers right next to me
banged hard with a bullet impact. Reflexively, I dropped to the floor while
Brand screamed out wordlessly and rushed the jock before he could pull the
trigger again.
    As the two fought, I yelled for the girls to get out of the way.
But they  were frozen  in panic and they only
cried out—pulling each other closer while Brand and Jennings struggled. Brand
was trying hard to get to the gun while the jock was pushing him back with one
hand and attempting to bring the gun up to shoot him. Both were swearing up a
storm.
    The gun went off again at one point and I flattened back down to
the floor. I didn’t hear the bullet pass by this time, although the crack of
the shot echoed along the hall. Lifting my head, I saw that Jennings was
becoming manic in his fight with Brand. And although Brand did have some
fighting skills, he was struggling to keep Jennings from killing him. And
Jennings was stronger. He lifted weights; Brand didn’t. It showed when the gun
rose steadily in Jennings’s hand, pointed toward my best friend’s head, even as
Brand tried to keep the arm from moving.
    Then, without warning, Jennings lifted a leg and brought it down
on Brand’s left leg. Brand grunted with pain as he went down, and that was
that. Jennings pulled away with rage in his eyes. The world froze and I heard
footsteps approaching from behind me. Jennings screamed wordlessly, swinging
the gun around in all directions. He was wild now. He yelled, “You sons of a
bitches! She was my girl!”
    The gun went up as Brand started to get to his feet. But the
jock wasn’t aiming at him. He was aiming at me.  Why?  I
don’t know, but hooray! I was the target! That was a less than happy thing!
    “Hey man, this isn’t the right thing to do. Don’t!” I yelled.
Yes, I certainly could manage a deep conversation when I needed to.
    Jennings pulled the trigger.
    Time did the freezing bit that you hear about when you’re in
great danger. I saw everything at once. Behind me, I heard my mom yell with
fear in her voice. I saw Brand turn his head, yelling something. The girls both
stared at me with widening eyes. Behind them, at the bottom of the