The Sword (Prince Harry fanfic #3)

Chapter Nine

Sydney had to be at the high school early in the morning, and Lucy hadn't asked if she needed help. Lucy had been itching to get to the high school now, but she waited until her allotted time slot. People were supposed to come at certain times so that there wouldn't be harsh backup. The large parking lot could hold at least one thousand cars but the media was forced to park on side roads and walk to the main event. The high school was even bigger, able to hold a little over three thousand students. Before the shooting it was thought the school would have to be built on to because more people moved to the city.

This didn't matter, because for the first time in a long time, Lucy was able to driver herself. In Germany, she had driven, and Harry and Lucy had gone on other adventures where she drove. It wasn't bad, but it was something she needed to get used to, especially being on the right side of the road. She had driven herself around the Twin Cities but this was the first time she drove into people who would know who she was. Lucy had to face whatever came next, and it almost hurt.

Police officers, from the city and many cities around, had surrounded the area in constant gazes, directing traffic and waiting the crowds, as if someone would pull out a gun here. Her eyes noticed the same anyway as protests stood off to the side, screaming for looser gun control, as if more guns would make everything better. They screamed it was their God given right as Americans, granted by the Second Amendment of the United States Constitution. She pulled forward in her car and a volunteer asked her name as the volunteer stared at the sheet in front of them.

"Lucille Smith," she admitted calmly. The volunteer paused and so did the officer beside her. The volunteer pointed and spoke where for her to go. "Thank you." Her car lurched again.

By the time she got there, Lucy parked in the back and walked toward the sun. The sun had been shaded by clouds and snow started to fall. By the time it hit the ground, it melted instantly. Lucy walked to the school.

Cameras caught everything, every movement and every face, as people waited outside near the memorial that had been built and under the cover of the school's roof. Even in the chill, no one noticed. It was silent, except for the journalists who spoke to their cameras. Some people whispered but it didn't echo. The politicians of the morning were at least quiet about it. Sydney had let Lucy know the real politicians wouldn't come until noon. This gave Lucy time to get in and get out, which she suspected wouldn't happen.

In five years, Lucy had changed but she really hadn't noticed. However, no one said anything to her or noticed clearly enough so she expected she had. Perhaps her hair had changed or perhaps her body had changed. Perhaps people had moved on. It wasn't until an old classmate of hers said her name, "Lucy... Lucy Smith." Then her name echoed throughout the crowd, like a disease passed.

Lucy never looked down as she walked, not in London and especially not here. Her blond hair blew back as she walked, her chin in the air with her eyes trained forward. Many people could say she looked angry, but so would you if this happened and nothing changed. Some politicians began to speak but stuttered when her name was whispered. Journalists for some reason reported this. Eyes turned to her, and it was Sydney who stepped forward to lead her into the high school.

As she passed, Lucy's eyes hesitated on the memorial outside the school, black stone with white writing indented into it. It had been glossed numerous times, and the water padded against the large stone away from the ground. On the top was the name of the people who died, alphabetical by last name. It went her brother, then her mom and then her dad under Smith; at least the family was kept together. Other names, like Jake and then her old best friend, rested on the stone. Standing beside his name, their eyes came to her, and Lucy looked away from Jake's parents and sister. She went inside the school.

Here, she took off her jacket, which was handed to one of the volunteers. Lucy noticed a buzzing system on the doors, which during the normal school days, you would have to be buzzed into the school by somehow; how were you supposed to feel safe with that? Sydney led her further into the building, out of the atrium. In front of her, they walked into commons, which bloomed into three stories, with five exits and the library looked down with glass windows. Lucy hated standing in the commons because most people had died here; this was where he started and then he moved upward. She wondered how much information was known because people lounged around the commons, drinking water or coffee while chewing on hard cookies.

Most of the school had been closed off during the day, so you could only stay in certain places. Volunteers made sure no one got too far off course. No was allowed to explore upstairs, where her brother died and Jake and her parents. Her best friend died in the commons, somewhere in the room she stood. Since Lucy's time here, all the carpet had been replaced, the ways weren't white anymore but brighter colors. The school didn't have the colors of red, white and black and changed the mascot altogether. Whatever this high school once been, it didn't want to be.

After the shooting, the school had been closed for the rest of year, where the junior highs were put together and high school students went there. Also, students went to other high schools around. They were never really a community again.

As Lucy stood, she realized this school didn't hurt her. It wasn't the building, and her pain didn't come from all the people she had lost. Truly, she had moved on because her pain faded but this was different. Anger built in her again toward her classmate that did this. He would spend the rest of his days behind bars but it didn't matter; he still killed many people. He killed fifty-six to be exact.

"Lucille?" Sydney asked. She swallowed and her eyes came to her. "You okay?"

Lucy nodded. "What's next?"