So far, John, Kailey, and others felt impressed to begin a Bible Club at their high school. Dr. Westman, one of the vice principals of the 1500 student school, was fully supportive. In the last part, T.J. Adams and Jimmy Orr were introduced.

Anthony Prescott, the man in black, was a high school junior. As much as Anthony, definitely not Tony, liked his black attire, he did not care for the Country and Western handle. He was not Johnny Cash and did not like his songs. True, some of them were honest, like maybe his prison songs, or the love songs, but most were not much more than light-hearted trivia. Life was too cruel to be taken like a Man in the Middle or A Boy named Sue – “How do you do?”

Anthony’s father didn’t mind the black wardrobe. Piercings, though, would get the boy some bruising, Anthony thought. Watching his father, listening to his comments about TV personalities, it didn’t take a genius to know what he’d do if Anthony came home with a nose ring, or tongue post. There would be blood. And probably a lot of it. But Anthony’s father was not a bully. In fact, he rarely even spoke to the boy.

Anthony had black head bands, scarves, collars, and hats. He also applied (moderately, of course) black eye shadow, but nothing that couldn’t be removed before returning home, or at least before his father got home. It wasn’t Wicca or Goth that attracted him as much as a simple appeal to the darkness, darkness and the shock value toward others. Anthony felt repelled by light, as if in the light he was translucent, that people could see through his flesh to the blackness of his heart and soul. Dressing in black was his shield, his protection. A trained psychologist would find him easy pickings, low hanging fruit. A recent budgetary decision eliminated the position from the school system in favor of two assistant athletic coaches.

His mother didn’t like any of it, but shielded him from his father, afraid the man’s blatant disapproval would be upsetting. Anthony’s two sisters treated him like he was weird, avoiding him at every opportunity – except when they needed him.

Party girls, his older sisters did tolerate Anthony enough to use him as a substitute babysitter. They could sit every weekend and many afternoons. Anthony took a huge portion of their jobs, squirreling away his money. He made even more money loaning to his sisters at the rate of five for eight. Their wardrobe and music spending guaranteed him his Christmas gun – an MP5. With Christmas money that he always got in place of gifts, he would have more than enough.

In the family car (pick-up truck, actually) the Sirius XM radio was always tuned to the oldies station, 60s on 6. Except when it was on 50s on 5. Anthony opted for his own, more modern music on ear buds from his I-phone. On one trip, his phone forgotten and his father refusing to return for it, he caught the Rolling Stones’ Paint It Black – I wanna see it painted, painted, painted black. Black as night… Anthony was hooked. It went on his MP3 where he could hear it over-and-over – all day and most of the night, he liked to think.

A year past, one of Anthony’s friends dropped out of school, just ahead of being expelled for threatening to kill everybody. They no longer hung out together, but Anthony knew the element that he ganged with, and that the dude had rough-type contacts. A gun from him would be a snap.

+++

James Pentecost was a true believer. Life was good. His parents were fair, his younger brother easy to like, his mom’s cooking good, and his girlfriend pretty. Better yet, his mother loved his girlfriend, Amy. James’ mother treated her like a daughter. He often overheard her on phone conversations to relatives talking about Amy as if the couple were already married.

“Oh, you two will have the most beautiful babies,” she often exclaimed, especially when someone else could hear her.

Dad was maybe a little too flirty with Amy, but it was cool. He once thought that if only he could sing, his life would be a sitcom.

Only twice in his entire life had James dated anyone but Amy. Once, taking a neighbor girl roller skating when he was twelve, and once, escorting a girl who’d invited him to a church pie social. Since the ninth grade, he’d been exclusive to Amy dating her at least twice a week, spending time at one another’s homes, known throughout the school as a couple. Life was good.

+++

The class valedictorian would not be Philip Andrews. Mononucleosis saw to that. The class queen, this year’s valedictorian was responsible for his scotched dream, or so felt Philip Andrews. He and Emily Tannenbaum had been the class brainy rivals all through high school, jockeying for top billing. The friendly competition grew serious as they learned of the limited college scholarship offerings, and the benefits of being titled as the best. They remained friends, but the closeness of their junior year was history. Emily would be going to Emory on a full ride. He was going to hell.

Ever since he could remember, his parents urged him to excellence, encouraging him in his studies, exposing him to learning experiences, providing tutoring in his weaknesses, which were few. They pulled strings in their civic clubs to get social activity resumé entries, a record for philanthropy and service sufficient to impress the purple-est of the blue-bloods on any selection committee. Country Club associates were twice tapped for summer internships. Money better spent for college savings was spent hobnobbing with those who knew someone who might know someone. The Andrews would not see their only child saddled with school debt, debt to drown a swimmer. With the surety of a scholarship, the Andrews could live bigly: Club membership dues, a home in the right neighborhood, expensive clothes and parties, exotic travel. The certainty of a scholarship promoted guilt-free spending.

Emily was a cute child, and had served well as challenging rivalry for their son. The Andrews were delighted to have her in Philip’s class, even as his friend. She pushed him to excel. But even in a tie, which the school carried only to one decimal place, Philip’s extracurricular activities dwarfed Emily’s Candy Striping volunteer work. And when Philip’s parents heard that Emily had contracted mono over the summer, their inappropriate grins could not be contained.

Philip’s glee matched his parents’.

“Hey, Em. How are you?” Philip asked the first day of school, knowing that the disease took many weeks, or even months to fully overcome.

“Fine,” she replied weakly.

Philip had his doubts about how fine she really was.

“You going to the Labor Day Back to School Dance?” Emily asked.

“Probably. At least to make an appearance.” Philip understood class politics as well as any suck-up on any level.

“Yeah, me too.”

“See ya there.” Philip wasn’t about to invite her as a partner. And no one else could hold a conversation. He’d rather go stag.

+++

“Hey Philip.”

“Hey, Saul,” Phillip replied to his longtime friend.

Saul was the class clown, as apt to cut up as behave intelligently. As smart as they come, Saul learned early that a comfortable 3.2 to 3.5 grade point average kept his parents off his back and he could have all the party time he wanted. He could get those grades without doing homework.

“You see Emily?” Saul asked at the dance, believing she was as close to a girlfriend as Philip had.

“Yeah. She seem weak to you?”

“Nah. Dancing fine. You oughta go out there and butt in, make ol’ Hammerhead mad.” Hammerhead was the senior class hot shot jock, lettering in two sports: football and baseball.

“Well, would you look at that,” Saul exclaimed, watching Emily and Hammerhead kiss. “That kiss might cost him a few touchdowns.”

Philip had seen, smiling as their kiss was broken only by a chaperoning teacher prying them apart.

Sometime later Saul again met up with Philip. “Did I see you coming out from under the bleachers with Jill Anderson a little bit ago?”

Philip smiled.

“You know she was under there with Hammerhead about thirty minutes ago.

Philip didn’t smile. He’d done the math, applying mathematical axioms, relating Emily to Hammerhead to Jill, and then to himself.

A week later Philip was diagnosed with the flu, missing more than a week of school. It wasn’t mono, but Philip was as mad as if it had been. As smart as he was, he could not repress the certain belief that Emily was responsible. The closer it came to graduation, the more he realized that his 4.2 would not top her 4.3, and the surer he became that Emily had sabotaged his rightful claim, the life he planned.

Everyone in the Andrews’ neighborhood had at least one home protection weapon, usually a Glock of one variety or another. Many also had a shotgun. The racking of a 12-gauge pump ranked as one of the most intimidating of sounds, close to that of a lion’s roar.

The Andrews had both, a Glock 19 and a 12-gauge pump.