I am nothing like them. I am like no one. I am Stevie. I am Dee. She is me. Any doubts I have are pushed down. She stomps on them, and I feel her eagerness. We are one.

I put on the shirt I have planned just for the occasion. I put my jacket over top. I pick up my bag and relish in the weight of it. I have prepped the gun: added some gunpowder for extra power. Filled the bag with my colorful, celebratory ammo, ready to light up the world.

I leave something for Mom. Nothing big. It’s just a bag of popcorn and a poster of that mom-and-daughter flick she loves, Terms of Endearment. I MISS YOU. It’s lame, maybe, but true. There really isn’t more to say than that.

Everything is in hyper focus. I am aware of my every move. I look outside and see that the neighborhood has come alive; it looks so colorful. It is sunny and warm, and kids are chatting as they walk to school, parents are leaving for work, and joggers weave around everyone, their feet pounding slap, slap, slap. I close and lock the door, and I am thinking of only one thing. Nothing about what will happen after, or what has gone on before. I am the present. I am focused. I put my earbuds in and look straight ahead, the songs of my vengeance in my ears.

As I get closer to the school, other students start to look at me. They are staring, but I am immune. My blood is pumping through my body like a beat. Someone jogs up beside me, grabs me, and I start, whipping around to see Ava, her hand on my arm. She is talking, but I can’t hear her. I shake her off and keep going. Stay focused, Stevie.

The bell rings; I can hear it dimly over the music. I am a magnet, and people are watching me, waiting, and trying to get my attention. I walk past my locker and straight into homeroom, finally taking off my earbuds.

Pete sees me, and I know he doesn’t know exactly what’s different or why, but his Spidey sense is tingling.

“Feeling better, Stevie?” he asks.

There is murmuring from the people around me.

“Feeling great,” I say, meeting his eyes. He nods and returns to the tasks at hand, shuffling paper, calling attendance. I turn and look at Aidan, unblinking, waiting. He smirks and looks away, fiddling with the pencil on his desk.

I know there are eyes on me, and people are tapping away at their phones to friends in other classes. My body is buzzing.

“Okay, folks!” Pete announces to the class. “Settle down, settle down. Okay, so I know you’re all excited about presenting your media assignments to the class, and so am I!” There is more whispering and some nervous chatter.

“Now, where shall we begin?”