BloodsportJackSGymPhone

From Create Your Own Story

"Shit. Shit, shit shit shit shit." You breathe in, trying to calm yourself.

It isn't working.

"Aw, shit, does anybody have cellphone?"

A dozen people yell their answers. Half of those dig in a nonexistent pocket in their gym shorts.

The first girl to get her screams. "It's dead! I had it fully charged."

You look to the rest of the class, hoping for better luck. But everyone looks from one to another, with that same look.

Off to the side, one tall redheaded boy pushes past another boy and shouts in your general direction.

You remember him as John Flanagan, another senior. He's trying to supress panic on his face, but the grimace is clear.

"Well, what about the landlines-I mean, the wall phones in the office? They don't need charge."

You exhale. That was as good an idea as any. Worth a shot, right? "Yes, good idea." You wave your hands to the class, herding them forward. "Everybody to the office!"

For a few long seconds, nobody moved. But with another wave and a look from John, the class falls into single file behind the two of you. It would never happen under normal circumstances, but whatever just happened wasn't normal.

March to the office.

Bloodsport.
I Am:	Jack S.	I'm In: The Gym.
I Feel:	Fine.
Kills:	N/A.