Private School Kings

Out

He got the gun.

He shot me.

I'm dying.

I'm dead.

I'm dying.

And then, I wasn't. Somehow, miraculously, I was alive. At least, I hoped I was. Every nerve in my body burned, but I could still feel. Every thought in my head blurred, but the thoughts were still there. The pain was excruciating, but it was also no worse than it had been before the gun went off.

Still, it was only when my ears stopped ringing and my vision returned to normal that I realized I wasn't shot. I sat up slowly, and even then my head ached so badly I almost fell right back down. Almost, but not quite. I had to see what had happened.

Even when I did see I didn't understand.

If you've never seen a dead body you will never understand what I saw when I looked at Tim Watson... Or when I looked at what had once been Tim Watson. He was still blond, still strong, still sharp jawed and blue eyed, but he was no longer Tim --no longer a person-- he lay on the ground face up, looking pale and pretty. His face was stone, his eyes vacant. He could have been a statue, if not for the blood pouring from the dime sized hole in the center of his throat. That blood still ran, but it was the only thing moving. The rest was still. Tim was gone.

My eyes were stuck on him, on the hole, as my brain struggled to catch up. I could see it, but I couldn't believe it. Just moments ago I'd felt the warmth of his skin, the rush of his breath, that proof of his existence. Now, there was no more. He was no more.

I knew Tim had been trying to kill me. I knew he probably would have. My heart broke anyways.

"He's okay." The words made me jump. At the sight of the body I had forgotten anyone else was there, but when I looked up I saw Heather. She was slumped on her knees, tears on her face and gun in hand. "He's okay, right?"

I just shook my head.

"You're wrong." Heather said, "You're wrong, this wasn't-" Her words were still slurred, but now they came faster, almost falling over each other to get out of her mouth. "We were just going to teach you to- He's okay."

"No." I said. My voice sounded flat and inhuman.

"Murphy, he's okay." She said again, but I was next to him. I could see. "He's okay." She said it again, and again, and again, but by then I could tell by her face that she knew it too.

Tim Watson was dead.

Heather Mccoy had killed him.

I found my phone on the floor. It's screen was cracked but it lit up when I pressed the power button. I dialed slowly. There wasn't any need for urgency. Tim wasn't going anywhere.

Fletcher answered right away. "Murphy?" The deep base reverberations of his voice calmed my speeding heartbeat. "Murphy?" He said again. "Is everything okay?"

My throat was hoarse from not enough air, and my words came out ragged and choppy. "Can you come to the ruins?"

"Murphy," My voice must have sounded even worse than I thought because Fletcher's tone immediately became deadly serious. "What's wrong?"

I looked at Heather. She was shaking, still reciting the words, "He's okay." Over and over. Her voice was already hoarse.

"Just please come."

I hung up.

By the time Fletcher and Madeline got to the ruins the blood's flow had trickled into a slow stream. By the time I was able to explain what happened it had stopped flowing all together.

"Are you okay?" Fletcher asked once he understood. His freckles stood out dark against his face, which had been pale as a sheet since he first spotted Tim's body.

I thought about that for a moment. Everything hurt. Breathing still felt hard. My thoughts seemed slower than usual. And then there was the fact that I had just watched someone die... I was definitely not okay.

"Fine," I said, voice still ragged. "I'm fine." I gripped his arm and tried to stand, but everything went black.

When my vision cleared I was on the floor again and Fletcher was kneeling next to me, face full of concern. "Murphy?"

"Fine." I said again.

"Stay here." His words were urgent, almost desperate. "Everything's going to be okay." He said. I wondered if he believed it. Probably not, but I wasn't sure. Fletcher always was a great liar.

He crossed to where Madeline stood, her arms wrapped around Heather's shoulders as she rocked back and forth. She was silent now, but her mouth still moved around the words he's okay.

Sometimes people break.

Fletcher and Madeline talked for a while. For the most part, I couldn't make out what they were saying. I wanted to go over them but I was only feeling weaker with each passing moment. Once, Madeline's voice rang out cold and clear, "Fletcher, no!" She yelped, almost angry. He raised his hands as if to shush her and then they were quiet again.

Finally they finished. Madeline stayed where she was, still shushing Heather, and Fletcher walked over to me.

"Maddy's going to take Heather back to campus." Fletcher said, his eyes not quite meeting mine.

"What?" I couldn't have understood him.

"They're going to go back to campus and I'm going to call the police and tell them that Tim attacked you and I shot him."

"What?" I said again, still thinking I had misheard him.

"I'm going down for this Murphy." His voice was flat and stern. He'd already made up his mind.

"Why?" There was no way I could make this make sense. "You didn't do it."

"Heather's drunk. She's not reliable." He rubbed a hand across his brow. "She could get in a lot of trouble."

"So could you." My words were still flat. I knew there was a time when I would have urged him not to do it, but now I couldn't remember why. I may have loved him once, but I couldn't quite recall what love felt like.

"I owe her this." As soon as the words left his mouth I wanted to hit him. I think if I'd had full use of my arms I would have. He always acted so noble. "I always talk about how the lords killed Magnus, but the truth is I was one of them. I was his best friend. I should have been looking out for him." His gaze swayed to Heather, who was slumped against Madeline as they made for the door. "I owe her this." He said again.

I didn't argue. Weeks ago --maybe even days-- I would have, but not anymore.

I was just so tired.