Call Me Blackbird

Lita raises her hand. Ms Castells says, "Yes Lita?" and Lita stands up and adjusts her white blouse. "Mom, they're on their phones," she complains. I quickly power mine off and shove it into my already opened backpack at my feet and Alex does the same.

Ms Castells gets up and walks over. "I don't see any phones," she says. "Lita dear, are you just trying to get them in trouble?" She asks. "Yes," I grumble. Ms Castells raises an eyebrow and we continue with the class. Next is lunch and I'm grateful because as soon as Alex and I burst into the hallway we both start cracking up.

"Roof," she says. I laugh even harder. "Are you trying to just get them in trouble Lita dear," I say, in a bad British accent, waving my fingers and rolling my eyes as I talk. She giggles as we walk into the lunchroom and see half of the other high school student body are already seated and eating.

*Moments later*

Alex and I sit down and she plucks a french fry off my plate and eats it. "No cap," she says pressing her thumb and index finger together, "Dis stuff bussin bussin," she says. I laugh and my friend Kari comes over. "Aye we got the band back together," she says. I hug her and she hugs Alex afterwards. I catch Alex trying to take another fry so I swat her fingers.

"No touchy my fries," I say. "You have your own," I say. "Yeah but mine are nasty. They have no salt," she complains. "Girl, you haven't even touched yours," I reply. "Still unseasoned," she says in a sing-song voice. I reach over to take a fry. I bite it and look at her. "These have seasoning," I say.

"M'kay sure." She says. Kari looks over at Alex and puts her fries on Alex's plate. "There ya go," she says. "Yuh," says Alex. Kari starts typing on her phone. "What are you doing?" I ask eventually. "Wha- Oh. I'm signing you guys up for the volleyball team," she replies. "You do know we have to try out right?" I ask. "Yup," she says. "Then why would you sign Alex up?" I ask.

"Hey- I'm great at volleyball," Alex says. "That's the game where you have to hip-chuck people right? And you're on roller skates the whole time?" she asks innocently. I shake my head and palm my forehead. "No, that's roller derby. Volleyball is the game where you have to hit the ball over the net to the other side and make it hit the floor so you can get points," I explain. "Oh yeah, I'm horrible at that," she laughs. "You aren't half bad though, Laurel," she says. "Meh," I say. Kari glances up from her phone.

"You are pretty good at it," she says. "Why else would I sign you up for volleyball," she asks.

I look up and see a tall, muscular man, in black camo pants, a black T-shirt, and a black gas mask. "Hello, Laurel Johnson, The Boss has been wanting to speak with you, we'll get you later, be prepared for quite an entrance," He said. I blinked and the man disappeared. What the heck was that?

*Back to The Present*

Ms Butoro snaps under my nose to get my attention. Snap. "Laurel,". Snap. Snap. Snap. I grip her nails instinctively. A little too hard. I accidentally break four of the five nails on her fingers. She looks ready to rage. "Move your ugly pink acrylics out of my face before I break every fleck of paint and acrylic gel off your bony wrinkly old man fingers-", I stop myself "I'm sorry that was way out of pocket, it was rude and I Shouldn't have said that," I say. Meanwhile, I'm thinking of a bunch more rude things to say to her because I'm not sorry. I never am. If I say something rude, I mean it with full intent. I don't say things for no reason, there's a high chance it's just a roast off the top of my head.

Ms Butoro is kinda built like an eggplant. Her hair looks like twistless Twizzlers. These glasses ain't helping nothing but her huge forehead. She's built like a honda pick-up truck. Ms Butoro looks offended as if she could hear my thoughts.

She presses her thin hands together. "Nope, it's fine. But I have a question for you," she says. "Do you have an idea what the question is?" she asks. I stare at her dumbfounded. "Uh… do you know the muffin man?" I say stupidly. She frowns because the answer was stupidly incorrect.

"No Laurel, that is not the correct answer," she says sternly as if I'm a toddler. "The question is," she says, reaching slowly into her desk. I hear the familiar click of a knife hitting metal, and my body goes into panic mode. A large man in a black suit with an earpiece comes from the shadow of a bookshelf. He unties a rope from his belt. I'm confused and panicking.

"Where is Laura Elizabeth Johnson," she asks, her voice is deathly calm and it scares me. "Look," I say, trying to take deep breaths but start hyperventilating. "This is all a mistake okay?" My voice is shaky. The rope is tight around my ribcage and I can feel myself losing blood circulation in my arms from the tightness above my elbows.

I hear one of my ribs crack and pain flares up my left side. I yell in pain. "Why are you doing this?" I shriek. My head is swimming with ways to escape but none of the possibilities is going in my favour. I hear footsteps running in the hall. I hear a familiar voice yelling, "Laurel hang on!" Alex. Oh my gosh.

The door bursts open and Alex runs into the room. She pulls out her taser and charges at the big man in the suit. A familiarly- unfamiliar female voice speaks in my head as it always does whenever I see combat scenes.

"Eliminate the larger threat first. There's a higher chance that the bigger person moves slower. Don't waste all of your energy on a smaller, more nimble person. They will always be faster and probably more agile. Watch out for sizes, in a fight."

The taser connects with his ribs and he yells and crumbles to the floor. Principal Butoro yells defiantly and charges at Alex with her knife raised. Alex tases her too. She crumples. Alex blows a strand of hair out of her face. She has a leather strap on her thigh. She clicks her taser back into the little holster on the strap. I study her as she works on untying me from the uncomfortable chair.

"You wanna explain what the heck just happened?" I ask. "Nah," she says in an irritating monotone. I glare at her. She sighs. "Fine. But if I tell you-" I cut her off. "You'll have to kill me blah blah bl-" she cuts me off this time. "No actually, if you'd let me speak, you'd know what I'm going to say," she says, very clearly irritated.

"Your sister- Laura, is in huge and I mean huge trouble with the police. She led a bank heist a couple of years ago, she even ran with a couple of gan-", A teacher walks into the room completely sidetracked, going through a folder and loudly chewing gum. We stand there frozen for what feels like forever.

I wanted to run. You know that feeling you get when something is about to happen? It felt like that. Every muscle in my body is aching to move away and out of the room, preferably out of the school. The teacher looks up and I recognize her as a plainclothes cop. How? That's an interesting question.

She's had it out for me since freshman year, trying to arrest me for breathing. Simply existing. "Girls, please put your hands above your head," she says, glancing at the unmoving bodies of the principal and strange man. "Ma'am, they tried t-" she cuts me off. I'm starting to get tired of being cut off. "Put your hands behind your back. Then turn around and face the wall. Save your explanation for questioning," she orders. Alex and I do as she demands.

With my hands behind my back, Mrs Wylie, also known as Officer Wylie, roughly puts the handcuffs on my wrists and I suddenly feel very claustrophobic. Every movement on my arms feels like shackles, and I hate it. It's dramatic, I know. But try being a Junior in high being put in handcuffs and led out of the school.

That embarrassing moment where everyone nearby is staring at you whispering to their friends or themselves. I can hear the blood roaring in my ears as Officer Wylie shoves me- or, aggressively moves me into the vehicle. She slams the door and I jump a little bit. I hear voices In my head. One that seems all too familiar. One that brings tears to my eyes, My mother's voice. I remember a song she used to sing to me when I was little.

I flashback to my mom and me sitting on my bed. It was early In the morning. I could see the stars out of my window and I was crying from previously having a nightmare. At least they said It was a nightmare. I didn't believe them then and I don't believe them now. Seeing as exactly what happened in that dream came to pass.

Mom's green eyes catch the gentle light of the moon and she smiles kindly. That pained smile your parents give you when you're little and they tell you that Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy is real. She raises her hand to my face and wipes my tears.

"It'll be okay Laurel. It was just a bad dream," She whispered back. "No," I whispered back. "My dream looked real. They're gonna hurt you, Mommy," I started crying all over again. Mom looked concerned. "Laurel, tell me about your dream," She ordered. "We don't have time- the bad people are coming," I said. My voice was shaking and my eyes hurt from crying so much.

Mom took me seriously. Her expression turned serious. It used to scare me how easily her expressions could change. "Laurel, get some clothes, put them in a backpack, and hurry up." She ordered. I didn't hesitate. I grabbed my Disney Princess-themed backpack and shoved a couple of outfits in it.

I snatched up my favourite small blanket and slid my feet into a pair of flip-flops. Mom shook her head. "Laurel, we need to be able to run." She said, walking over to a small shoe rack in my room. She picked up my favourite hightops. "Put these on quickly," she ordered.

In no time I had on my black and pink flannel pajamas and my all-black Converse hightops. I put my backpack on and Mom scooped me up and quickly ran to her room to grab an already packed duffle bag. We ran down the stairs like crazy people.

I remember the urgency in Mom's movements as she turned the car light on and started the car. "Mommy I'm scared," I said. She pulled out of the driveway and sped off. "Me too Laurel, but that's okay because we have each other," she smiled at me like everything was going to be okay.

I knew otherwise. "I promise to be by your side no matter what happens," she glanced at me and for a split second, I could see the fear in her eyes. "Mommy's gonna protect you-" her sentence was cut short as we got hit from behind. Mom had made me sit under the glove compartment on the passenger's side. I'd been rocking back and forth, crying from fear of what I knew would happen next, and rocking back and forth hugging my knees to my chest.

I'd always wanted to sit under the glove compartment, but Mom told me it was dangerous. But if she hadn't told me to sit there, I'd be dead. Then we got hit from the front. Which is what killed her.

That car accident would've killed me just like it did to her. I'd passed out from my head hitting something but not before I got a good picture of the damage. The glass had wounded her incredibly badly. A piece of glass had pierced her carotid artery. Her face was bloody from various glass cuts. Her green eyes were wide and frozen in shock.

It's all my fault. I should've convinced her.