by Russell Linton

Created on: January 16, 2009   Last Updated: April 16, 2011

The scrawny kid in the hallway scrambled to cram the avalanche of books back into his locker. His eyes darted nervously around the long hall. He slammed the locker shut, leaving the remnants of books and folders crushed helplessly between the aluminum door and the locker's frame. He fumbled for the dangling combination lock, still not daring to take his eye off of his surroundings, and with shaking hands tried to snap it closed.

A twitch in the wrong direction sent the lock skittering across the smooth tile. With a mouse-like "squeak" he scrambled after it, the awkward weight of his backpack dragging him to the ground. His new position did little to slow his pursuit which transformed into a furious crawl. His eyes still flicking about wildly, he tried to keep the runaway lock in view and the surrounding hallway.

Lock, hallway.

Lock, hallway.

Size twelve sneaker. Double E width. A veritable trailer home for a foot.

He knew he was a goner the moment he saw it. Anyone and everyone in James McAllen Middle School knew that shoe. Most had suffered many a misfortune at it's well worn sole. The shoe, that possibly had its own zip code, was attached to Frances "Franky" Owens. A beast of an eighth grader. His true age was unknown, as it was suspected by most that he had failed at least three grades. But nobody ever mentioned this to him. Nor did anyone EVER dare to call him Frances.

Frances, or Franky, often patrolled the halls between classes. For someone who wasn't the least bit concerned about flunking grades or racking up time in detention, cutting class was second nature. It also afforded him the best opportunity to practice his trade. A veritable master predator, he would allow the others to separate themselves from the herd and choose the precise moment to strike. A stray student that maybe lost track of time between bells was a prime target.

The scrawny kid's face contorted in anguish.

"Just not the toilet this time Franky, please."

Franky smirked and kicked the combination lock further down the empty hall. All of the classroom doors were shut and the bathroom was nearby. It was a good situation as far as he was concerned.

"I'll make it quick loser," growled Franky "As long as you got five bucks on you. Any less, and your sayin' hello to a swirly."

The scrawny kid smiled nervously and dove into his pocket. His hands still shaking, he ejected a wad of loose change and crumpled green bills onto the floor.

"Pick it up dork," fumed Franky.

A forced smile on his face,

• 1
• 2
• 3
• Next Page >>