Young Writers Society

Chapter Seven

Christian knew that Krobeth was getting mad at him for asking all of these questions. It seemed to Christian that Krobeth was hiding something from him, or, not telling the whole truth about the grudge. He could just see it in the old man’s eyes.

“Fine, one last question: How do I kill him? With a gun, with a knife? Do I shoot or stab him?” Christian asked eagerly.

“Ah-ha! I have that all covered! You see that sword over there? The one hanging on the wall? It has hung there for the last—well, since I have bought it… when I had all of that money. That is what you will use to kill the man.”

Christian looked down and then looked back up. “Why don’t you just call the police and tell them to arrest the man? You could go to court and get all of your money back! I could say that you never affiliated with me in anyway and that you are totally innocent! There doesn’t have to be any killing! Oh, Krobeth, would you do this? There really is no need for bloodshed!”

Krobeth shook his bald head and said, “You have already asked your last question. I will answer no more.” He paused, then said, “You do not have to kill him right away. In fact, I have to set up a plan to get my money back. All I need you to do is to kill him. And win Christy-Ann over, don’t forget that! That is the most precious part of this little scheme. Ah-ha! This is brilliant!”

“So,” Christian said, “All I need to do is make Christy fall in love with me and then get close to her and kill George. Well, I really don’t see the connection there…”

Suddenly Christian gasped. He had remembered when he had asked Kevin what the girl’s name was. Christy-Ann Turner. Christian was suppose to murder George Turner. Oh my gosh! I have to kill Christy-Ann’s dad!

When Christian left Krobeth’s house, Mary was aghast. Tears silently rolled off her cheek. What had her father done to him? He had turned him into an assassin! All of these things poured out of her mind, and she did not realize her father, standing before her, shaking his head. He was holding a knife.

The next couple of days, Christian did not see Mary in school. He was glad, because that girl really pissed him off. She would lounge around him like a lazy sloth and eaves drop on every little thing he said! He got frustrated to the point where he was going to shout at her, like he did before they broke up.

What Christian couldn’t still understand is why Mary still loved him. He couldn’t stand her! He just got so angry!

This took Christian’s mind at the task at hand. Christian’s inner self had told him not to accept the job when he had found out that he would have to kill Christy-Ann’s father; but still, a half a million dollars?

Christian had to accept it, for love or hatred toward Christy-Ann. He just hoped that Christy-Ann didn’t have a strong relationship with her father.

Christian was surprised when he entered his fourth period, science, and saw Christy-Ann sitting in the chair next to his desk. He looked puzzled and sat down.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” He asked.

She smiled and said, “I was transferred here.”

“Oh, that’s cool!” Christian said excitedly. His head was reeling with thoughts of how he would make her love him. Should I make the act quick, like a sly fox, or make it last? Oh, I wish I knew her better!

Christy-Ann stared at her feet. She does that a lot. Christian suddenly had an idea.

When he was walking to his first period, he had gone by the main office and saw a poster, or more like an ad. It had read:

SAVE THE BIRDS!

Government officials are declaring

That all of the pigeons must be

Evacuated out of L.A. city

By October 3!

What have these poor, innocent birds done to

You?

Vote now, and

SAVE THE BIRDS!

Christian had thought that this was the dumbest thing any person could do. How in the world was someone supposed to “evacuate” birds out a city? What would they do? Lock them in cages? Send them to Africa?

Christian thought about this while Christy-Ann stared at her feet. Christy-Ann wouldn’t want some stupid birds out of L.A., now would she? She could have no grudge on the birds.

Christian thought that if he voted with her to save the birds, they might become friends, and after that… who knows?

“Save the birds.” Christian muttered.

“What?” Christy-Ann replied.

“Save the birds. Save the birds. Save the birds!” Christian started yelling at the top of his lungs. He stood up and proclaimed to the entire classroom (who only consisted of ten other people) and shouted, “Everyone, listen up! I bet none of you in this classroom will want those birds gone!”

Everyone stared blankly at him.

“What? You don’t know?” Christian spat out. He turned red, blushing. Then he said, “You know, the poster… by the main office? Ring any bells?”

A girl in the classroom suddenly yelled, “Oh yeah! Oh my gosh, who would want to save the stupid birds anyway? I mean, they are not doing us any good except poohing on our heads!”

She got a lot of nods of agreements and one, “Here, here!”

“Wait,” Christian broke in, “Someone has to love the birds! I mean, God put them here for a reason! We can’t just chuck them away!”

Christian looked down at Christy-Ann. She had her hands on her face and it looked like she was giggling… or crying.

“So, there is no one here that would want to save the birds? Huh? No one? Well then, lets just see if I can make a rally!” Christian yelled across the room.

A few girls broke out laughing. Christian just then realized that he was making a complete fool of himself; but he didn’t care. He just wanted Christy-Ann to be his.

“Last chance to join me! Anyone? How about Christy-Ann?” Christian stammered.

He looked down once again and looked at Christy-Ann. Her face was bright red and she was laughing so hard that she was crying.

“What? What are you laughing at? It’s not funny! There are going to send the birds to Africa!”

“You are such an idiot Christian! They are sending those stupid birds to Anaheim. Dork!” Christy-Ann burst out.

Christian blushed. Christian, you are a stupid retard for saying all of this! Now look, she thinks that you are as lame as a whistle!

Christian looked at his feet in dismay. The tardy bell rang and the teacher walked in and said, “Christian, you are tardy.”