Young Writers Society

Chapter Eleven

Three days flew by like a jet. Christian anticipated his soon-to-be girlfriend. He stared at her in the halls, and lunch and all of sixth period. Christian wished that Kevin would be there, but he was suspended because of his alcohol drinking, and Christian just wanted Kevin to hear Christy-Ann said, “Yes, Christian, I love you!”

Last period went by slower than a turtle. Christian took deep breaths and tried to calm himself down. He planned all that he would do when she said yes: First, he would swoop down and kiss her, then pick her up and let her ride on his shoulders, then kiss her some more, and at last, drive her home.

Christian had bought an old geezer car, but Christian didn’t care. He finally had a car! The engine was older than dirt, but it still ran, even if it was terribly bumpy. Christy-Ann would enjoy it all the same.

Christian looked at the clock every thirty seconds or so and check the time. His breathing deepened as the clock drew nearer to 2:30.

Christian was talking to his friend when the bell finally rang. Christian popped up and ran across the hall to Christy-Ann’s last period classroom and waited by the door. He waited. He waited, and waited. The final kids went out of the room and the teacher followed. Where was she? She was here last period! He asked the teacher and said that she had to stay after school to help a librarian sort books. Christian nodded and ran down the hallway to the library.

The doors were open and he saw her standing there, looking at a couple of books, trying to figure out where they went. He strode over to her, making sure that his hair was in the exact right place. This was it, the final moment of their friendship, and the beginning of their relationship and boyfriend and girlfriend.

He took her arm and she gasped, spun around and said, “Oh,” in a disappointed way. His self-esteem dropped an inch.

“So, how are you?” He asked, very coolly.

“Fine, how about you?”

“I’m good, I’m good… so, have you got your answer?”

She turned around and smiled. “Yes, I do, in fact.”

Christian smiled and tried to remember all that he would do when she said yes. His heart stopped and he started to sweat. Come on, just say yes already!

“No.”

Christian’s heart jumped into his throat. “Wh—what?”

“You heard me…Christian, look, you can’t pressure a girl into liking you! It is not normal! I told you already that I love John,”

“John is DEAD! Gone! Bye-bye! Vamboosh! Gone!” Christian spat out with a hard tongue.

“I don’t care,” Christy-Ann turned to face him in the eyes, “I LOVE him. More than you can ever love me.”

“No, no Christy-Ann, you’ve got it all wrong, baby. You love me! You have to love me! It is just what happens! When a guy likes a girl, and a girl likes a guy, they love each other!”

“Well, I have got a news flash for you, Christian! I don’t like you! Not one little bit! In fact, I hate you!”

Christian fell to the ground and took the angry girl’s hands. “No! You—I love you! I love you!”

Tears streamed out of his face.

“No shouting in the library!” the librarian shouted. “If you are gonna do that, you can leave! Now! Go! Christy-Ann, you stay, but you,” she pointed at Christian, “leave! Now!”

Christian looked back at Christy-Ann. She turned around promptly and cried. Christian sobbed as he walked out of the library, not thinking of what kind of an image he had just made of himself.

There was a knock on a widower’s house. Jacob, the widower, opened his door and suddenly was shocked. A teenage girl fell through the doorway and spat up blood. He hurriedly called the police and went back to the girl. She was young, only about sixteen and she was very dirty. Her red hair was all tangled up and turning brown from the mud on her face and clothes.

When the police came, they couldn’t identify her and brought her body to the police station. It was there that she recovered and told everyone that her name was Abigail Snow. She did not say where she was from.

Abigail Snow was a very pretty teenager and when she was all dressed and washed up, she wanted to find a woman named Georgia Grace, who Abigail claimed was her aunt. She was told that Georgia lived in Anaheim and that she, Abigail, was in Riverside, California.

Abigail sat at the police station, waiting for her transportation to go to her aunt’s home. She looked up at the television and the news was on. She gasped as she realized that a fire that had burned down an old abandoned mansion was really close to wear she had used to live. She knew right away that it was Christian’s party and saw another broadcast that showed a Turner residence under police supervision because of an almost fatal robbery.

It showed a man name George and a very familiar face, Christy-Ann, talking on to a reporter. The sound wasn’t on, but she could tell that what had happened had been her father’s doing. She remembered overhearing Christian and her father talking about murdering a George Turner. Her blood turned cold. The TV read, George Turner, Victim of an almost fatal Robbery.

She couldn’t let this happen. She couldn’t let her father murder another man for money; and she knew that her father had dragged Christian into this also. They would be caught and put to death. She had to stop them.

Fifteen minutes later, the transportation arrived and Abigail got into the two-seated truck. Just as the driver started the truck, Abigail pulled out a knife that she always carried with her.

“You will let me drive! I need to get somewhere!”

The driver froze. “Yes, I know! I am taking you to Anaheim! That is where you need to be!”

“No! I need to go to Los Angeles now! Get out!”

The driver didn’t hesitate to get out and Abigail, always known as Mary, had successfully hijacked a truck.

Christian had earned the thumping that Krobeth gave him when he told him of the failure of Christy-Ann. Christian sobbed while Krobeth yelled at him to take it like a man. Christian just sat there, sobbing.

Four days went by and Christian walked back to Krobeth’s place. Krobeth had told him that he planned to strike again that night, and Christian wanted to tell Krobeth how he felt about the plan now.

Just before Christian got there, he heard someone talking to another person. Two women. Christian tried to ignore them, but the voices were very familiar. Mary is back!! Christian almost ran over and gave Mary a huge hug, welcoming her back. He had been very sad that Mary had not been to school for the last week and missed her. It seemed as if he had started to like her again.

He stood behind a corner and eaves dropped on the two women.

“Tonight? Can you be sure?”

Christian’s eyes started to water. Mary and Christy-Ann were talking. Both of the girls he had fell in love with, in one spot. Why is Mary talking to Christy-Ann if she hates her? They both hate each other!

“Yes, I am positive. I heard my father talking about it to himself.”

“Oh my… would Christian really do that?”

What was Mary telling her? Did she know about their plan?

“I have to go and tell daddy! And the police!”

“No! Not to police! Not yet! I will call the police. After all, you can never be sure that they will certainly go tonight. I give my word that your father will not be killed, ever!”

That dirty, spoiled little idiot of a girl! She spoiled the plot! Now the police would be swarming the mansion! Wait a minute! What am I saying! Do I honestly want to kill Mr. Turner, or is a page out of Krobeth’s book coming into mine? I don’t want to be like him! He kills and lies, steals, and he is a nasty man! I could never be like him!

Suddenly, Christy-Ann appeared and Christian ducked under a ledge. She ran past him and cried. She turned a corner and disappeared. Christian turned and ran as fast as he could back to Krobeth’s house to tell about what he had just seen, and how he felt.

“Tonight is the night! I can’t wait!” Krobeth said as he opened the door. “I am positive that he will be there tonight!”

“Krobeth, we have to talk.”

Krobeth didn’t listen and started singing a horrifyingly merry song about how they would kill George.

“No guns tonight!” Krobeth exclaimed. “Only a sword will bring his soul to hell!”

“Krobeth! Listen to me!”

He didn’t and continued singing his merry song.

“KROBETH!”

“What? What is this all about?”

Christian sighed and told about how Mary had spoiled the plan.

“M—Mary? She is still alive?”

“What? Of course she is, you old man!”

“But, how could—oh never mind! I will most certainly get her for this!”

“And, there is…something else…” Christian stammered.

Krobeth raised his eyebrows. “What is it boy?”

Christian wandered around the room and slowly said, “Krobeth, you are a great guy.” Krobeth smiled. “But you see… I have never killed anyone in my life, and…I really think that it is a great sin.”

“Oh, so you have a religion now?”

“No, no I don’t it’s just that…I don’t want this job anymore…I quit.”

Krobeth burst out laughing. “Quit? Quit? Hahahahahah, you can’t quit! You are an assassin! They don’t quit until they are killed! Hahahahhahah!”

“Krobeth! I am serious! I can’t kill Christy-Ann’s father! I—I love her too much to do that!”

Suddenly, Krobeth swept up to Christian and grabbed him by his shirt. It reminded Christian of the first time he had met Krobeth.

“Boy, you have got to learn to face the world like a man. If you can’t get it, you have to do it yourself!”

“What does that mean?”

Krobeth shook Christian’s figure. “Don’t ask me stupid questions like that!”

Christian tried to shake off Krobeth’s dirty fingers off of his clean shirt. “I don’t ever want to see you again!” Christian yelled and spat in his face.

The old man let go of Christian to wipe his eyes and Christian ran to the door. He looked back, but Krobeth was gone.

Christian tried to open the door, but it was locked. “How do you open this thing?”

Suddenly, Krobeth pounced on Christian and they collapsed in a huge pile of fighting men. They punched each other and Christian took a blow to the nose and it gushed out blood. He shook his head and tried to stand up, but was pulled back down.

There was a sudden sharp pain, as if a needle was sticking into his skin; he looked back and indeed, there was! Krobeth was holding a needle up to his back and plunged it into his spine.

The pain and dizziness was immense. Christian spun around as if he were drunk and tried to pull the needle that was sticking out of his back, out.

He failed in every attempt and suddenly fell to the floor with a thump.

“If your colleagues can’t do it, do it yourself!” Krobeth whispered. “You should wake up in about six hours, after everyone, including Christy-Ann, is dead.”

That was the last thing Christian heard for six hours.