Paul

It was lunchtime when I walked up to the brunette, who was standing by herself.

"New here?" I asked.

She scrutinized me for a moment and then said, "Yes."

"I'm Paul."

"Kerry." She replied.

"What are you in for?" I asked.

"I killed someone." She gave no further explanation.

"Want to know what I'm in for?"

"Not particularly."

"Good, 'cause I wouldn't tell ya."

"Uh-huh." She looked around, apparently looking to escape our converstion. Right about then, this guy Ritch walked up to me.

In prison, there's always a guy who can get you what you want, provided that the price is right. Reform school isn't too different. I was that guy. Ritch was a regular for a pack of cigarettes a week.

"Where's my pack, man?" Ritch said.

"I'll get it to you, Ritch. Give me some time." I said.

"You are already late, man. I gave you the money a week ago. I need it...now." Who did this guy think he was? He was talking to Paul Bibson, the unofficial Reform School student body leader, not some 98-pound weakling.

"Back off, Ritch. Don't bug me. I'm not in the mood. I told you I'd get it to you. Now go." I motioned for him to move off. Suddenly, he pulled out a blade. It was a blade that I myself had gotten for him.

He moved quickly. Within moments, the brunette Kerry was in his clutches, the blade dangerously close to her neck. We were in a dark corner of the school, out of sight of most of the students and teachers. My guys started moving in.

"Take another step and I'll cut her." Ritch warned.

"Stay back." I commanded my people.

"I need my stuff. Now!" I stood frozen in the moment, calm as ever. Panicking in dangerous situations can do no good, I'd learned. I pondered upon my next move.

The End

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