4th period

It was Valentine's Day 1993. I was a senior in high school. It is with a little difficulty that I recall this story. Truthfully, it is with a lot of difficulty that I recall this story. 14 years have passed since that day. I did not think I would survive that day then, and looking back I am not sure how I did. To this day, I continue to grieve about that horrific day.

I knew something was amiss when I went to 4th period. The feeling was just in the air. That electrical feeling that crawls up your back like a heat seeking tarantula. Starting slowly at your butt and climbing slowly to the base of your neck giving you goose bumps all the way. I looked around trying to put my finger on exactly what was wrong. Everyone seemed a bit uncomfortable, but this is high school. Everyone is uncomfortable Call it teeneage angst or hormones or whatever you want.

The period started and the teacher was doing his everyday thing. Calling roll, cracking jokes, breaking the monotony of school. This was one of my favorite classes. The teacher was great, and I also enjoyed the subject. Everyone in this class were seniors; it was a rather advanced AP class for all of us college bound little dweebs. We had taken a test before, and Mr. Clark was handing out the graded tests. Many oohs and aahs and sighs came from the suddenly bashful teens in the room. Sometimes no matter how much you study, those tests are hard as hell. Sometimes no matter how little you study, those tests are hard as hell.

It was in the middle of reviewing the correct answers that I first heard it. Screaming in the hallway. My ears perked up and I looked around. No one else seemed to have picked up on it. Mr. Clark was continuing dog people for what he called dumb answers to simple questions. Maybe it had been my imagination. Then the door to the classroom across the hall slammed. This definately got attention. Even in the noise of high school doors did not usually slam like that. It seemed to have a finality to it that reached beyond our youthful ears. Being kids we looked to the teacher for guidance. More like cattle than humans. Mr. Clark looked at us and then continued his class. Maybe it was my over active imagination from all those horror movies and video games, but I thought he theron seemed distracted.

Suddenly the sounds of screaming flooded our room like water from a burst dam. It without a doubt was coming from next door. Mr. Clark told everyone to be quiet before we had a chance to utter the slightest sound. What was that in his voice? Had it been fear? Anxiety? Even after all of these years I do not know. He crept over to the door and looked out the window. He apparently could not see because he than had to open the door. All the student seemed to implore him not to open the door and let whatever terror lay on the other side into the tranquility of our classroom. Mr. Clark froze in the doorway and then quickly shut the door. As he was attempting to speak, we heard the footsteps echoing in the vacant hallway.

Step step step step closer and closer to our classroom door. I stared at the door almost willing the lock to turn. Why had Mr. Clark not locked the door behind him? Was he too scared? HIs eyes were transfixed on the door, so may he had been. Had I been in his position I do not know if I would have reacted differently. Not knowing what he had seen in the hallway, everyone was more and more anxious. The tension in that room could have been cut with a chainsaw. Without the divine guidance of our fearless teacher we were deer in the headlights.

Finally, after the worry had drowned us, the classroom door slowly opened. The bright lights of the room in such contrast against the dark hallway blinded us all to whatever evil had crossed the threshhold. Nothing was said, and the stillness was unnerving. The figure standing arms loaded in the doorway appeared the ultimate picture of menace. This turned out to be another student. A student we had gone to school with most of our lives. Why would he do this? What perverted power had led this soul to this point in time.
Everyone lept from their desks almost in unison. The giant huddle in the middle of the room seemed almost obscene. Why would everyone group together to make this vulgar messenger's job easier. He observed the group, and then solemnly closed the door. The fear of what was coming gripped me like the cold hand of the grave. Unlike the rest of my peers I was still in my desk, and frozen to the spot. The unholy messenger seemed to observe the large crowd of anxious students, but then turned his attention to me. Ever so slowly he stepped toward my classroom prison. Fear was oozing from my body watching him stalk closer and closer. He raised his right arm, and I glanced with treeror at the item yielded in his hand. He extended that hand toward me.

I did not know what to do. I know it sounds juvenile, but I did not want this to happen to me. How could this have happened to me? What had I done to deserve this? Knowing there was no choice, I reached out and embraced my destiny.

It was a carnation from the glee club sale. A girl I was interested in had sent it to me. Most everyone else in the class had gotten one also. After all, it was Valentine's Day.