Random Acts of Cruelty

1.1

"El!" calls out a painfully familiar voice. I turn around to face Dean, a pale wiry kid with messy brown hair and sunken eyes. I face Dean, who has asked me out 3 times a day for the past month and a half. I don't know if his dad is just one of those guys who tells their kid to keep trying, even if the girl punches you in the jaw and tells you no for the 50th time. I've told the principal a few times, and Dean has even been told by the counselor to stop, but here he is once again.
"What?" I snap at him. The kid is going to get punched if he asks me on a date one more time.
"I have something to tell you." I start to turn around, but he grabs my shoulder and makes me face him. "I have a gun in my backpack. I'm going to ask you out again, and if you say no, I'm going to shoot up the school today."
"Uh... excuse me?" Dean has pulled crap before to get me to go out with him, but they're always bluffs. One time he told me he'd tell the entire school I was a lesbian if I said no. Obviously, I said no, and as far as I know everyone still knows I'm straight. Another time he said he'd kill himself. That clearly didn't happen, so I don't really believe he has a gun. Where would he even get one?
"You heard me, El," he clears his throat. "So, will you go out on a date with me?" I can't even believe this kid. I laugh at him and go sit down in my seat just as the bell rings. My teacher starts talking about our dissection coming up at the end of this week, but I can't listen to him. Something about what Dean said and the way he said it is just stuck with me. The look in his eyes. It wasn't a pleading, begging look he's had in the past. It wasn't sadness like when he threatened to kill himself during lunch if I said no. It wasn't the look he had when he said he'd post a video torturing a mouse on Instagram if I said no, like when a second grader is about to pull a petty and harmless prank. This look was cold and hard. Like he meant it. I look at him two rows to my right and one chair ahead. He's staring at me. No, not staring. It's more like a glare that could send chills down the backs of Spartan warriors. He looks back to our teacher who is giving step by step instructions of what we'll do during the dissection.
The bell rings for second period. I stand up and go to my second hour, which is art across the building. We have a sub, and she gives the instructions to paint what we're feeling. I aimlessly stand up with the rest of the class to get our paints and paper. I grab red, black, and white paints. I move the brush across my canvas paper without much thought to what it's making. I can't stop thinking about Dean and what he said. I know I should stand up and demand to go to Principal Warren's office, but I just sit there and paint my red and black cloud with splotches of grey.
The sub orders us to clean up, and I put my name on the paper and put it on the drying rack and start washing the brushes. I watch the water run through the bristles and the red paint go down the drain, looking a bit too much like blood.
"Hey El!" someone behind me says. I jump and look at them with what I hope isn't terror. It's my friend Juli, and I exhale a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I smile and wave and finish washing the paint off my brushes. I turn and walk back to my desk with her.
" Are you ok?" she asks me, picking at the ring on her left thumb.
"Yeah, why?" I respond with false cheeriness.
"You're painting was kind of depressing. You do know it was supposed to be of our current mood, right?"
"I... yeah I know." I pick up my bag and swing it over my shoulder as we head for the door. "I'm just super irritated with Dean. He asked me out again, and he'll likely do it again in third hour."
"Dang. Well tell me about it during lunch. I still think you should say yes just to shut him up." She turns left to go to Geometry, and I shake my head as I turn right for Spanish. I decide I'll tell my teacher when I get to class about Dean. Even if it's just another lie, that's a pretty big lie and he could likely get arrested for it. I try to weave my way through the crowd that no longer feels safe, and I arrive to class just seconds before the bell rings. I look around my class frantically, and I see everyone but Dean. I pull the door closed and I run up to Sr. Childs, who looks confused as to why I just pulled the door closed when Dean still isn't here.
"Sir, I need to tell you something important right now. Today in first hour, Dean told me that if-" my sentence is cut off by a loud bang that sounds like it came from the floor above us.