Sanguine's Story Thread

We're starting Ulysses in English. As a prereading, we need to write either a five paragraph essay on a hero from fiction, or create our own.

I chose the last one.
It still doesn't have a title.
And this is the first part.
WARNING: may contain religion, violence, and crude humor

The halls are clogged like the arteries of a McDonald’s patron with a preexisting heart condition. Believe me, I know. My mom’s an EMT. You don’t want to see the things I’ve seen.
The sun’s shining outside, but the hall’s got only two windows, and they’re blocked by displays of affection worthy of a sappy romantic comedy directed by that woman who did Twilight. Which is to say, it’s bad. Really. Bad. Of course, no one cares; they’re either the ones reaching first base, talking, or attempting in vain to open their lockers. And that’s when I see Marcus.
He’s desperately trying to open his locker and ignore everyone around him. Marcus’s been picked on since fourth grade, when he moved here from the city. It’s partially because his parents are from Italy – Vatican City, actually. His dad’s the minister at Saffron Catholic Church, and his mother leads the choir and the youth programs. He’s been trying to tell them for three years that he’s an atheist, but every time he brings up religion, they go off on some tangent about following his father’s footsteps in theology and going off to save souls in Africa or something. He tells me about it daily at lunch. I’m almost as tired of hearing it as he is. Luckily, he’s got the best impression of his dad I have ever heard. Yesterday, I almost peed my pants on how he said “WE MUST SAVE THE HEATHENS!” He then proceeded to rant on how Buddhism isn’t satanic worship, to which his dad grounded him for a month.
Marcus is carrying his backpack, a small laptop sling, and a guitar case. It’s normal for a Monday morning, since we have a jam session in the choir room after school until five. The laptop is for his study hall. He’s paranoid someone’ll hack into his school account and change all of his work, no matter how many times I assure him the bullies at Saffron High are too stupid to operate their iPods, much less a computer. That, and all the computers here are Macs, which he despises with a burning passion. I can’t blame him. When you get an Apple product, you pay for a name and a fancy logo. And by fancy, I mean I could have drawn it when I was ten. It’s an apple with a bite out of it. Apparently, it represents the brains of MacIntosh’s patrons.
I’d walk up to him, but I really don’t want to. My hands are full of overdue library books, so I wouldn’t be able to really talk, or get out of the hallway once I walk into it. So I just stand at the book drop staring down. I don’t know what possessed me to do it. I just did.
Marcus notices me and gives me a two-finger salute, our lazy parody of the Boy Scout troop where we met. He smiles and pulls his ski cap down over his perpetual blonde bedhead. That’s the ‘Mom’s trying to cut my hair again’ signal. He’ll tell me about it at lunch.

that's really good

I open the book slot and place the first three in, part of a series on a skeletal magician detective or something. Just light reading. I’ll gobble up any book you give me. I’m putting the fourth in when my head decides to go in instead.
Well, it didn’t really decide. Sean Brooks decided for it.
Sean’s your typical bully- large, strong, and getting the only sharpness he will ever receive from a dunce cap. He’s not some quarterback or frontliner or swim captain or any other sports figure. No, he’s too busy crushing hopes and dreams and the skulls of rabbits to possibly put his free time into productive activities. Not like sports are productive in any way.
Following him is his girlfriend, Jade Summers, a twig of a caffeine addict who likes her men like she likes her coffee, strong, hot and black. Part of me thinks it’s the only reason why she dates Sean. She comes with a pack of cronies she keeps around to make her feel more beautiful, smart, et cetera. The pack’s complete with Sean; Jade; May Flannigan, an airheaded redhead who’s as Christian as they come; Lily Black, the school tramp whose eyeliner knows no moderation; and Ae-cha Kim, the South Korean exchange student who wandered into the wrong crowd. If you have to feel sorry for anyone in this school, pity Ae-cha. Poor girl will never be the same.
Back to Sean.
“Hey, idiot! Staring at your idiot boyfriend, idiot? Shit, you’re such a fag!”
Did I mention that Sean’s vocabulary is about that of an explicit ten year old?
“Yes, Sean. Of course. I was just thinking of what wonderful acts of sodomy we’ll perform in that alley behind the grocery store where you smoke your pot. I’ll be sure to leave something for you to clean up. Who knows, maybe you’ll contract the virus that causes homosexuality. I’m sure May’ll love to watch you and her brother commit their sins.”
Maybe not the best move, but my mom told me to always encourage the bully. It deprives them of the hunt or something. Psychoanalysis isn’t my strong suit.
May immediately holds her crucifix (which I have heard nasty rumors about, involving putting it in her skirt while she removes her purity ring) and makes a sign of the cross in the air with it. She’s either trying to save my immortal soul, or damn me to hell. I don’t even care.
“Look, Gaylord over here thinks he’s funny! Your little-“ I slam another book down the metal hatch- “ckbudy’s getting double for that, idiot.”
“You know, the more you say it, he more it sounds like denial.”
He flicks me off and sulks down the hallway. His posse follows, with a quick blurb from May; “Jesus still loves you. But you’re going to hell.”
It doesn’t occur to her that I don’t care. I’m a Hindu. There is no hell.
As he approached Marcus, time seemed to slow down. There was time to look at every person in the hall. But most of my attention was turned to Mr. Eckart trying to stop Jake Fields and Kathy Johnson from reaching second base in front of the security camera. Sean slams Marcus’s head against his locker and then I notice what’s wrong.
The object in the guitar case is too thin to be a guitar.
As if reading my mind, he unzips the case and brandishes his revenge; a Mossberg 590, a .33 semi-automatic riot shotgun.
The first shot is a blast, sending students screaming, and sending Sean to the ground, clutching his bleeding hand. Jade crouches with him, not for support, but to use her boyfriend’s body as a shield.
Mr. Eckart leaps into action, grabbing the barrel and twisting the entire firearm to the ceiling. My ears stop ringing, and suddenly, the world is off of mute.
“HE SHOT ME! HE FU-“
“Don’t interfere!”
“-KING SHOT ME!”
“Get the hell off of me!”
I sprint down the hall, like a salmon upstream, screaming incoherent messages at Marcus. He sees me, and starts screaming back- “Get the hell out of here!”- but his attention is turned back to Mr. Eckart as he tries to wrestle the gun from my friend. Being old, Mr. Eckart loses, and finds himself at gunpoint.
If the first shot was a blast, the second was the auditory equivalent of Hiroshima’s nuclear explosion.
I had one of those out of body experiences, where you see what you’re doing in third person. I can see myself pushing Mr. Eckart out of the way. I can see myself fall over, clutching my gut.
Maybe it’s weird for me to think it, but my mind automatically went to The Sixth Sense. That one shot in the beginning of the movie where the crazy guy breaks into the bathroom with a pistol... When I saw it, I remember my mom saying, “Gut wounds are always fatal, Raj.” I didn’t think anything of it until the guy realizes he’s dead.
I can see Mr. Eckart restrain Marcus, locking him in the nearest classroom. I can see Jade help Sean to the Nurse. It’s pretty disturbing, actually. It’s like I can see myself lying in a pool of my own blood. I whisper things to myself, that it’s okay, that I don’t blame Marcus. It was a mistake.
Mr. Eckart says something about the ambulances coming soon. The hospital’s only three miles away, anyway. I cough a bit, and finally say to him, “If you could change something in your life, anything at all, what would it be?...I wouldn’t change it a bit. Not one bit…”
I can hear the ambulances in the distance. Sorry you’ll have to see me like this, mom. It must be bad to lose the two most important guys in your life in the same year. I’ll tell dad you said hello.
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SAFFRON, WASHINGTON- Marcus Romano, 17, is currently on trial for third degree murder after taking a shotgun to school on March 25, 2011. The violence resulted in the injury of Sean Brooks, 18, and the death of Raj Jannavi, 17. A teacher at the scene, William Eckart, gives us an eyewitness account…


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I'll be posting another story later, if anyone ever replies.