The pretty blonde stood in the rain, defying the Gods of sensibility, her white tank top; more colloquially known as a wife beater was plastered against her thin frame. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a taut ponytail, a whisper streak of brown raced down its right side. The girls backpack lay forgotten at her feet, one strap entangled in her drooped arm still. As I approached her, I could make out the bluish black outline of some type of tattoo, and could see her green bra clearly. Her jean shorts hung low on her slender hips; a water soaked, well traveled pair of black Chucks were topped out with an ankle high pair of socks that matched her bra. Her face was turned to the heavens, her eyes pinched shut, her mouth pulled down in a thin exquisite line. Her expression lay somewhere between weary, and peaceful. It was a strange juxtaposition, and made her even more attractive. I found myself staring as other students dodged the rain best they could, sprinting between overhangs. The storm had just started; the gray clouds were darkening, promising menace and lots of rain. Whatever she was thinking, or whatever she was trying to accomplish was done finally, and she dropped her face, her frame relaxing. She strolled nonchalantly to where I stood, not minding the sudden chill in the air. As she approached, her deep blue eyes found me, and she honed in on me personally.

‘See anything you like?’ She asked casually, not breaking stride, jerking her pack up onto her shoulder, where it hung on by one strap, her wet sneakers flopping on the wet concrete. I turned to watch her leave, and was surprised to see her turn and look at me once more before ducking into the cafeteria.

‘Making new friends I see, eh Hannibal?’

‘I guess… who is that?’ I asked Corey; my best friend since forever.

‘That’s the new girl. Some say she comes from a different time… some even say she comes from another planet… but her records say she comes from a Catholic school in Manchester.’

‘England?’ I asked stupidly.

‘No, Massachusetts, you dummy.’ Corey answered coolly, heading into the cafeteria.

‘I’m not even going to ask how you know what her records say.’ I retorted shrugging my own pack into a better position on my back. I looked to the sky again, and saw no visible break in the clouds, turned and followed Corey and the mystery girl into the cafeteria.

I was a smart kid and knew it, which at my school made me a virtual pariah. I had Corey and a few other acquaintances that orbited me from time to time, mostly for help on some homework, or some paper they were hopelessly lost on. However when it came to eating, nobody dared to sit next to the weird kid with the big brain, outside of Corey. I looked around the cavernous, noisy room, the redolent smells of a thousand different lunches echoing almost as loudly as the conversations. One smell was prevalent amongst the cacophony, and I related this to Corey who had gotten in line.

‘Don’t they realize that chili makes people fart?’ I asked crossly getting in behind Corey.

‘Come on dude, they do it on purpose. A student who doesn’t want to rip one in class is an awakened student; I swear it’s a form of scholastic torture.’ Corey groused.

As the line inched forward, I looked around and noted the sociological pecking order held firm here during lunch. The sports players, or jocks all sat in a large, noisy group, their girlfriends, hangers on, and wannabes orbited them. Right away I could see the very bane of my existence sitting stooped over his own lunch, no ordinary, free order of watery chili and bullet hard rice for Bryce Callahan; no sir, the king of this high school ate only the best. And currently the best was smuggled Taco Bell. Next to him sat perhaps the biggest bitch in a school anywhere; Katy Bell, Mrs. Popularity. She was an uppity bitch who got by on her looks, Bryce’s popularity, and nerd desperation. She often popped a button or two, and absolutely begged someone to help little helpless her. I couldn’t fault her for her ability to weasel help from just about anyone who happened to pass within ten feet of her really, I couldn’t. However, what set her apart, and I was certain reserved her spot in the eternal hot place was her attitude. Understandably, girls acted a certain way, especially girls with her looks, smarts, and daddies money, but Katy was light years beyond what even her closest rival, sitting next to her, Jessica Lassiter, could even hope to accomplish. Katy’s tongue was razor sharp and dipped in acid. If you even dared to cross her path in any way that inconvenienced her, you’d better watch out. Her handling of a certain girl who dared to flirt with Bryce was legendary. The girl, sitting near the nerd section, and still two years later, a social outcast merely smiled and playfully swatted at Bryce. But it was enough, Lord was it enough. Katy set out on a scorched earth campaign that took no hostages; her devils imp, Jessica helping out, laughing merrily the whole way. Rumor had it that the girl, Rebecca Long, attempted suicide because of it. No proof had ever come of that, for all anyone knew it was a final shot across her bow from Katy. Either way, no one dared to cross Katy, or even upset her. Bryce and his knuckle dragging wrecking ball crew made sure no boys got within fifty feet of Katy. Corey had Katy in a science class one day and merely said hello to her in passing and was subjected to relentless taunting, shoving and death threats from Bryce and his second in command Kyle Freemason. It was only after Mr. Alison, the biology teacher, intervened did Corey get any relief.

Only two tables over from the jocks sat the smart kids. I don’t mean the tape mended glasses, khaki wearing, plaid shirt buttoned to the top smart kids, I mean the National Honors Society Beautiful People. The only thing that separated them from the lower order of Nerd was their look and impeccable dress. I wish I was making that up, I truly do, but it held true . Mostly Asian, with a few white and black faces sprinkled in for diversity, they sat away from the jocks, with little or no intermingling between the two. One thing that put them squarely in the Alpha bracket in the social order was their arrogance. They were smart, parents were rich, or damn near it, and they knew it. Even the jocks didn’t mess with them too much.

Next on the list, sitting in a corner was the gangbangers, the cholos, brothers, and wiggers. They all sat in a large loose group, their colored bandanas hidden from sight. Wearing or displaying gang colors was a capital offense and could get you kicked out of school or arrested. The only thing about this group of sad losers was the simple fact that they were all wannabes. See, our school was in the midst of a suburban sprawl, and no inner city dregs walked our hallways. The PTA would absolutely be in an uproar if there were. Even though the gangbangers were merely wannabes, they were notoriously violent and quick to temper. Something the jocks found out at their own peril. So they sat in the corner away from everyone, merely eyeing the room moodily.

Finally in the Beta bracket, the lowest order in the school sat the rest. The nerds, the poor kids, the weirdo’s with some kind of social disorder, the absolute toxic people that nobody sat around were all in and around one table nearest the doors. They didn’t really talk to one another so much, they didn’t commiserate their social status; they were too socially awkward for such a thing. No, they merely coexisted, equal in their societal stature, nothing more.

I saw the blonde girl pull a hard colorless tray from a still wet stack, and push across the line and also noticed that she’d slipped into a black hoodie sometime between standing in the rain and getting in line. As she turned her back to me, I caught a familiar look on her face. It was one that I too often expressed upon seeing what they passed off for food. She picked and chose her food carefully, not too picky. She wanted something in her belly, even if it was barely edible. A few kids stood between us, and they moved quickly through, each getting whatever they wanted and then separating into their own little groups; this point in lunch mostly the beta set. As I got to the line I noticed there was a small puck-like hamburger patty mixed into the choices, so I chose what they passed off for a hamburger and a dollop of chili and fries. Showing my student ID, I was waved through with no charge. As Corey and I rounded the L shaped counter we saw the blonde walk past the jock table, and true to form, one separated himself from the pack and began harassing her. A look of disgust crawled across her face, and she kicked the offender in the shin, never breaking stride, upsetting her tray, or dropping her pack. The kicked student, a fullback on the football team was enraged at the treatment by this young ‘thang’ that should be all over him, and his chiseled physique. I heard the unmistakable catcall of the jock set ‘bitch’ thrown out. The blonde ignored it and kept going, shooting daggers at the entire table as she walked past. I heard Katy hiss the word again, and knew the blonde had just made a new enemy. I wondered who would come out in that one.

She saw the nearly empty beta table, ignored it, and went to a completely empty table nearby, dropping her pack on the ground next to her. I prodded Corey and pointed in her direction. He rolled his eyes and obliged, giving the jock table a wide berth. As we approached, she glanced up at us, and tapped her fork against her tray.

‘What? Come to stare some more, or are you with them, come to exact revenge on the new kid?’

‘Relax,’ I said not waiting for permission to sit, dropping my pack on the opposite side of the table. ‘I come in peace.’ I smiled, and was glared at a moment. Corey dropped his pack next to mine and sat down, eyeing the girl.

‘You got a name, handsome?’ She asked taking a bite of her lunch and grimacing at the taste.

‘Hannibal Smith at your service my lady, and yes my nickname is ‘cannibal’. I said offering a thin smile.

‘What about the big guy, he talk, or just stuff his face with crappy school food?’

‘Corey Winemaker.’ Corey said between bites of his lunch. For some reason he thoroughly enjoyed the school food, which was mysterious to me until I’d eaten his mothers cooking. In comparison what they served at school was gourmet.

‘Well, aren’t we all chummy?’ She asked ignoring my stare, instead bending down to eat.

‘You got a name,’ I asked taking a bite of my hockey puck like burger. ‘Or do I just call you Rain Dancer?’

The girl looked at me and offered little crooked half-smile. ‘I like that. You can call me Rain Dancer, it’d be cool.’ She answered stuffing some fries into her mouth. ‘God, does everything around here taste like the inside of a sewage pipe, or is today special?’ She asked swallowing the fries.

‘You’re lucky, today is edible. Just wait until you have what they pass off as pizza.’ I offered.

‘I don’t know what the big deal is; this stuff ain’t half bad if you ask me.’ Corey said barely picking his head up from his own lunch.

‘Yeah, well we both know that your mom burns water when she tries to boil it.’

For an answer, Corey merely shrugged. He and his father knew that his mother’s cooking was atrocious, but they choked it down anyway, and told her it was delicious. Her temper was legendary around their house.

‘Okay, so, seriously, you got a name?’ I asked, prodding the blonde girl.

She sighed, took a bite out of the rock-hard burger, and stared at me, her blue eyes burning into me. I returned her stare, noticing the flecks of green that danced around the center of her eyes.

‘God, you don’t give up do you?’ She asked with what I took as mock anger. Corey picked his head up from his lunch and smiled at her.

‘You should see him when they’ve got boosters. The boy can sell some goods. Those old people around the neighborhood don’t stand a chance when Hannibal gets rolling.’

‘I figure they buy stuff just to get me to shut up about it.’ I said, biting into my burger, staring at the blonde.

‘Alyssa Keyes.’ She said finally, biting into her own burger. ‘But frankly, I like Rain Dancer better.’

‘I like Alyssa.’ I said smiling at her. She rolled her eyes and offered that half-smile again.

‘Whatever you say Hannibal cannibal.’

‘Oh ho, she has a sense of humor! So what were you doing in the rain?’ I asked finishing off my fries.

‘I don’t know exactly, I just like the rain. It relaxes me, and the uptight prudes around here annoy me. Especially that tool that tried to be funny earlier.’ She said jerking her fork in the direction of the jocks.

‘Oh, you mean Eric Lassiter, don’t you?’ Corey asked, barely looking in their direction. ‘See that brunette with the braided ponytail? Yeah, that’s his sister, and the blonde who’s sitting next to her is Katy, and she’s her best friend, and the girlfriend to the Ken doll next to her. They’re thick as thieves and twice as stupid.’

‘So should I go over there and make nice, or what? Would that make me a member of the in crowd?’

‘No, you’d talk and ruin it all.’ I said. ‘You have a brain and your own thoughts rolling around up there.’

That was when I noticed the skinny kid by the doors. He was dragging a chain across the push bars, stealing an occasional nervous look around. Right away something felt off, and some instinctual fear began to assert itself. In classic terminology- something wasn’t right, and it made the hairs on my neck stand up.

‘I don’t want to talk about it anymore.’

‘Come on, you know this is helpful. Keep going.’

‘No… please, don’t make me remember, I don’t want to remember the…’

‘The what, what don’t you want to remember? Vocalize it; put it to words, it will help.’

‘Blood and…’

‘And what, what else do you remember?’

‘Screaming… lots and lots of screaming, I don’t want to remember anymore, please let me stop now.’

‘No, you’re doing good, keep going, once you excise the guilt, the horror and the pain you feel, you’ll be in a much better place.’

‘Nooooo…’

The kid looked familiar, and I knew that I’d seen him around school; I just couldn’t put a name to his face. He pulled a big padlock out of his pack and ran across the lunch room and quickly repeated the chain across the push bars, padlock on chain process. I don’t know why I didn’t say anything, but I was too fascinated and curious about what he was doing. I jabbed Corey with my elbow and pointed to the kid who now knelt on one knee, digging in his backpack. Alyssa turned to see what we were staring at.

‘Wonder what he’s doing…’ I mused and pointed to the doors.

‘I don’t know, but Mr. Haney is going to get pissed that the doors are padlocked.’ Corey answered.

As the kid stood, I realized what he was doing, and why he’d locked the doors. He held a silver cylindrical object in each hand and was busy lighting the fuses on them.

‘Oh my god, he’s got a bomb!’ I whispered in horror, feeling the spit dry up in my mouth.

Corey didn’t hear me and looked at me curiously as the kid tossed the first bomb. It rolled across the room near where Alyssa sat. Without thinking, I reached across the table and jerked her. She began to protest, but the momentum pulled us both over and we wracked our heads painfully on the hard plastic seats bolted to the tables. I jerked to my feet, bringing Alyssa with me, grabbing Corey by the scruff of his collar, ripping it in the process. I turned to look at the bomb and realized the fuse was longer than I thought. I jumped the table getting a lot of curious looks in the process, grabbed the bomb and tossed it back at the kid, who now held a matte black semi-automatic gun in his free hand.

‘YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT YOU LITTLE SHIT! YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT!’ He screamed and took aim at me. Upon his hysterical proclamation, the room fell silent and students began to get the gist that something was amiss. The kid picked up the bomb and threw it towards the jock table, the fuse much shorter now. As he did so, he brought the gun to bear on me and fired. Somehow he missed and I heard the bullet strike the ground next to me as I dove back over the table. Corey and Alyssa were still standing there, trying to puzzle things out.

‘Run god damn it!’I screamed at them and the room in general.

As I did, someone at the jock table realized what was going on, and a few teachers sitting at the front of the cafeteria were getting to their feet, presumably to see what the commotion was. As a student reached the pipe bomb, and a teacher had drawn even with him, two things happened simultaneously. The teacher put her hands up in horror and the bomb detonated. The explosion was muffled by the sheer volume of students around it, and it began raining blood and body parts. The student that held the bomb was gone in a flash, and the teacher who’d held her hands up was decapitated neatly by a flying bit of shrapnel. About then, the other bomb landed nearby.

As the bomb landed, I realized that neither I, Corey, nor Alyssa were injured thus far except for the loud ringing in my ears. I turned to the bomber and shooter and realized that he’d held me in his sights again. I saw the muzzle flash and felt heat instantly in my midsection. Looking down, I saw a small neat hole in my white chambray polo shirt. Around the hole and spreading rapidly was a red spot. I felt no pain, but did feel panic as the second bomb detonated. This time the explosion knocked all of us off our feet, and saved my life. The shooter had aimed and fired again as the bomb detonated, but missed because he’d misjudged the distance and was knocked back into the wall. Shaking it off, he waded into the carnage and began methodically shooting students both wounded and not. A brawny teacher rushed the student, but was shot in the head. Another student, the center for the football team, Vance Nederland, had followed the teacher, apparently hoping to help bring down the gunman. He met an equally gruesome fate as the teacher and went down next to him. Corey and Alyssa meanwhile had noticed that I’d been shot and pushed me down flat on my back even though I’d tried to stand. I knew that we had to find a way to get out of there or get shot too. Alyssa had stripped her hoodie off, then her tank top, and pressed the tank top to my stomach where there was a sudden fiery pain. Her green bra stood out in stark contrast to the dimmed, broken lights and bomb smoke that hung in the air. The tattoo that I thought I’d seen earlier was a tribal dragon design that ran the length of her ribs. She pushed against my stomach and took my hand to put over the shirt. As she let my hand go, she donned her hoodie and looked at Corey wild eyed. She began to speak, but another bomb went off then, further away, closer to the front of the cafeteria, the blast pushed against us hard, but didn’t knock us over, Alyssa’s hair danced in the malignant wind, and she flinched back from it.

I managed to get from under Corey’s hand, sat up and pointed at the door, suddenly finding it difficult to catch my breath. He looked at the door and nodded. Apparently the gunman hadn’t properly secured the lock, because it now hung askew from the chain. Someone on the outside had heard the commotion and was tugging mightily on the door, trying to get in. Corey sprinted across the cafeteria towards the door, but as he did so, the gunman heard the clatter and began meandering towards the door, casually shooting people as he went. I tried pulling on Corey’s shirt tail to stop him because I knew that he wouldn’t make it in time. As he got to the door, he was shot in the back. He slid down and was shot in the back of the head. The kid, now covered in layers of gore, relocked the door, glancing towards the kitchen, apparently realizing there were other doors that could be accessed. He walked past the table where Alyssa and I were hidden; we were trying to remain as invisible as possible. He shrugged out of his pack, came up with another bomb, lit it with a black lighter, and walked a little more hurriedly towards the kitchen, the fuse hissing angrily. From my low vantage I could see him toss the bomb in an Olympic style toss. I heard it ricochet off something metal. Someone in the kitchen sounded an alarm, and there was silence for a moment before the bomb went off. The gunman returned to the table where Alyssa and I hid, squatting down. He shot a black kid further down from us, turned his attention to us, and smiled malignantly. I realized that Alyssa had pulled a small green pocket knife from her backpack, looked at me, and hurriedly kissed me on the cheek. She crawled out from under the table, and I kicked out at the gunman, trying to distract him. It worked, and Alyssa launched herself at him. As she did, the kid took aim at her and fired. I saw her hair puff out, and her cheek explode in a red mist. Her momentum carried her forward, and she managed to bury the small blade in the gunman’s neck. He screamed, almost dropped the gun, and clawed at the knife, but even I could tell that he was mortally wounded. He staggered back screaming, pulling the blade out. Immediately a red gout of blood shot from the ruptured artery in his neck. He tried raising the gun again, but only ended up shooting the floor by his feet. I tried jumping to my feet, but the gunshot to my gut prevented me from doing anything but crawling feebly to where Alyssa had fallen.

As I closed the distance, I could tell she was still alive, her face a ruin. There were clots of teeth and blood in her blonde hair, and it was slowly turning red. I realized there wasn’t anything I could do for her, because she’d already yanked her hoodie off, and pressed it to the hole in her cheek. She turned to me, and offered me the saddest half smile I’d ever seen. She had stopped the kid, had killed him, but at what cost. I crawled to where the gunman had fallen, and began rooting through his pockets. I found a set of small, silvery keys, made my way back to Alyssa and hobbled to the door my stomach a raging cauldron of pain, dripping blood on the floor. The doors were still being jerked from the outside, the taut chain preventing any access. I rapped on the door, and they fell silent. I worked the key into the lock and it dropped to the floor. Immediately the door flew open and an army of teachers and campus police officers poured in. Mr. Haney, the school principal was the one who’d been yanking on the door. He saw me, saw my hand pressed to my stomach, saw the blood, and eased me to a sitting position on a nearby stool. He began asking me a flurry of questions that I couldn’t answer. Instead I pointed to where Alyssa sat in her bright green bra clutching a black hoodie to the hole in her face. Mr. Haney took the hint and rushed to check on her. He managed to get her to her feet and brought her to sit next to me gently. We motioned that we’d be okay, he paused before wading into the cacophony of gore, death and injury. The ringing in my ears was still the loudest thing I could hear, but over and under the buzz, I could make out screams, sobs, and terrified gasps as survivors and rescuers met.

‘Can I go back to my room now? I’m tired.’

‘Not yet. Where is Alyssa right now?’

‘She’s in the day room, sitting in the corner.’

‘Now Hannibal, tell the truth, where is Alyssa?’

‘No more, please no more!’

‘You know I don’t like pressing you Hannibal, but you’ve made such progress, and if we stop now you know that you’ll just backslide. Where is Alyssa?’

‘Sobbing… there is… sobbing.’

‘Who is sobbing?’

‘I… don’t remember.’

‘Yes you do. Who was sobbing?’

‘Alyssa… she was sobbing.’

‘Go on.’

‘The surgery couldn’t fix her face all the way and…’

‘And what, what happened?’

‘She jumped.’

‘Is Alyssa alive?’

‘No more, please, please no more!’

‘Hannibal…’

‘Sobbing, I wanted to save her, needed to save her…’

‘Can you accept the truth now Hannibal?’

‘Yes…’

‘Is Alyssa alive?’

 'The red, all the red.'

'Is Alyssa alive?'

'A waterhose, washing away the red.' I sobbed, the memory washing over me.

'Go on.' A gentle prod urging me to finish it, to accept the truth.

'A weak smile, and...'

'And what?'

'I held her hand as she died.' I cried, the pain rushing through me. 'It's my fault isn't it?'

'No Hannibal, she made her own choice, she chose to end her life rather than deal with the pain. It is okay to move forward, and accept her loss, it is okay to mourn her loss, but it is not okay to blame yourself, you did nothing wrong.'

'She was doing better, wasn't she?' I stared at the wall remembering our last conversation. About the headaches, the nightmares, and mostly about how she felt guilty that she didn't act sooner. Nothing I said changed her mind. It all ended up on the roof with me begging her to come down, to come back inside, that I needed her.

I remember her sad smile as she leapt into oblivion. I remember rushing down the four flights of stairs, missing more than a few in my haste, I remember twisting my ankle, and hobbling the rest of the way down. Mostly I remember the scarlet, and remember her haggard breathing. It felt like she'd waited for me to get to her before expiring. I remember it all so vividly. What I remember most is my own secret, buried in the crack of my mattress. See, they make sure you put the pills in your mouth, but do not check to see if you actually swallowed them. I figure that a weeks worth ought to do the trick. I too have nightmares that I cannot wake from, and it all started with a rainy morning.