by Kyle S., Age 13 , Grade 8
Sora Zhang was a pretty normal kid. And by normal, I mean normal in the way that a Japanese foreign exchange student with a dad who is a member of the Yakuza can be normal. He was a bit pudgy. Actually, he was very pudgy. He was made fun of all day. The only person who wanted to be his friend was a very obese Italian kid, but Sora responded by calling him a “ .” It’s a good think that Anthony Salerno didn’t speak Japanese.
He didn’t really have any friends, and the few mutual acquaintances he did have called him
After a particularly bad day of being pushed around, he began to want to take action. He was tired of people walking up to him and shouting “ANIME” or “PIKACHU, I CHOOSE YOU! I’M A POKEMON, TOO!” He didn’t even like anime (although he did quite enjoy playing Pokémon). He recalled what Yamaguchi-gumi's leader, always said about competition.
“ , o ,” which roughly translated to
“If someone challenges you, stab them.” This idea seemed pretty appealing to Sora. As his mind cleared, and his ears stopped ringing from the other students shouting at him, he began to create a plan. He obviously couldn’t do this on his own, so he’d need an accomplice, and he knew just the guy.
As Sora entered what had come to be known as the Closet at his school, his heart began to race. The Closet was known for its large gang presence. It reeked with the awful smell of cigarette smoke and substance abuse. He shuddered with memories of the last conspiracy with the Closet involved. He didn’t want to think about the news story about the burnt school, all of those children killed. The Closed still seemed to be mourning the death of Butch, their former leader.
He knew that in order to appeal to them at all, he had to act the opposite of what he really was. He had to act like he wasn’t a pudgy, pale, awkward, Asian foreign exchange student. He had often practiced acting normal. At his old school, before it had burned down mysteriously, he only survived off of looking as hip and cool as he could.
Sora was pretty confident in his ability to seem normal. He took a deep breath and walked up to Charles Gabriel III, the new head of the Closet. Just as Sora opened his mouth, he was interrupted by Charles’ Scottish accent, shouting
“What are you doing in my school?”
“Uh… I just wanted to ask you a question,” Sora muttered as he went over his pitch in his mind.
“Does it involve death?” asked Charles, obviously thinking of Butch’s.
“Not unless you make it that way,” replied Sora.
“Okay, give me the facts,” answered Charles.
“Lean in close,” said Sora “We can’t risk anyone hearing.”
As Sora contemplated all he could do with the Closet at his side, he passed a small child, exclaiming something about Apache Attack Helicopters being ‘.’
He was subsequently shoved into a locker by a tall British fourth grader who pledged his allegiance to the ‘Gucci Gang, Gucci Gang.’
Another subject, thought Sora, who promptly walked over and initiated his speech.
“Hello, kid! I’m Sora, and boy do I have a treat for you! For the small price of your innocence, you can be involved in a Yakuza scheme against all who have been mean to you!”
“That sounds like a stupid deal,” said the kid, unscrewing his bottle of Mtn. Dew. “And my name is Donavan, ‘kid’.” He started to walk away.
“You can kill the Gucci Gang kid!” shouted Sora at Donovan’s disappearing figure. Donovan turned around.
Now Sora knew the last person he needed to recruit. He knew that she was tall, , Goth, and went by the mysterious name of Wendy. He looked around the cafeteria during lunch, to find the spot where the air seemed cold, and the faint humming of a strange mantra. Sora was in the right place.
"Wendy, for the small price of your innocence, you can-"
"Shut up, were talking to my dead pet tick," Interrupted Wendy.
"Listen, just for a second. You know those kids who are always happy and annoying?" Asked Sora.
"What if we killed them?" Asked Sora. "What would you say to that."
"I could tell my dead tick to help!" Exclaimed Wendy.
Sora had recalled what happened last time a heist of this extent had occurred at his school. Death, and lots of it. He smiled.
"This is going to be fun," though Sora.
Sora left the school bus on a cold morning. The gravel crunched under his feet. Someone shoved him and yelled “Move it, Pikachu!” Sora couldn’t wait to start his plan. He met the others in the gym, their agreed rendezvous point. The principal, Mrs. Reynolds, was exactly in position. Everything was going according to plan. He recalled the actions of Anthony Salerno. When he did it, the school burned down. Sora went over the plan one last time.
“When Mrs. Reynolds walks into her office, we jump on her. We can take her out by shoving my Pokémon cards down her throat. We steal her keys and use them to get into every classroom. Then, we take our positions. Charles, you grab the arsenic from the science room and dispense it through the air vents. Wendy, unleash your ticks on all of the children. Donovan, you install free Minecraft from notavirus.net onto all of the computers. Everyone ready? Let’s go!” Shouted Sora.
As the rest of his clan went on, Sora stayed behind. He had his own plans. Let’s just say it wasn’t a coincidence that the front doors of the school were left open. His destination was now in sight.
Sora was not a murderer without reason, though. Everyone who wasn’t mean to him got the day off today! He jammed the keys into the ignition of the oil tanker he stole. He savored this moment, with the engine purring and the calm before the murder. Then he slammed his foot onto the gas pedal.
The children tried to run but it was too late. The whole time, Sora couldn’t stop screaming "I'm a fully evolved Pokémon!" As for Wendy, Donovan, and Charles Gabriel III, well, it was too late for them too.
Sora's fun was interrupted by a sharp crash, then hissing. Sora knew what would happen next. He said his goodbyes to his Pokémon cards, just as the oil tanker blew up in a fiery spectacle.