I’m not one to believe in symbolism but the deep, grey, looming, clouds in the sky certainly had a way of making me believe it wouldn’t be a good day. Not that it could have possibly been a good day anyway.

 

My feet ached, my twin brother continued bumping into me, his caramel hair covering his eyes, wouldn’t look up from his phone, being out in the cold, brittle, air had given me a stuffy nose. The only reason I hadn’t thrown myself out in front of a car was because my little brother would have sobbed, which would have annoyed my twin, Ashton. Then again everything annoyed Ash, being the pessimist he is.

 

I know most kids are supposed to love their twin and honestly I do, but we were the difference between night and day. He spent his time messing with his many friends, pulling pranks and annoying everyone around him while I spent my time inside, reading a book or watching tv of some sort. I was “painfully” quiet according to most of my family to a point where they often forgot I was in the room. I was never one to make a fuss. I simply found it much easier to stay out of people’s way. I always just assumed if I did that they would stay out of mine.

 

My siblings and I entered the bank. The quiet, eerie, feel of the bank sending shivers up my spine. If anyone saw all this green in any other room they probably would have thought it was Saint Patrick’s Day. Everything looked so posh and neat yet if you looked closely you could tell all this stuff was cheap. The black rings around the cords that kept the pens attached to the desks were all but falling off and in the corners of the room the thin, scratchy, green carpet was peeling upwards. The glass cheap, plastic glass that separated the bank tellers from the people was covered in fingerprints and various other substances. Suddenly my thoughts took a darker path and I wondered if I could choke someone (Ashton or Mom) with the beaded cords. Then again just because someone was an annoying prick or made you go to a bank doesn’t mean you could choke them. Or at least you shouldn’t choke them.

 

My mother and Derrick met some friends back from when they were in high school and decided to chat, asking me to finish clothes shopping for my little brother, Max and meet up with them at the bank, taking no consideration into whether or not I wanted to. Ash simply tagged along so Mom wouldn’t pinch his cheeks and show him off to her friends. I can’t remember the last time she did that to me.

“Melly Belly, what are student lawns?” Max asked, studying the pamphlet in the plastic cases carefully.

 

“Maxy, it’s student loans and those are for kids who need to pay to go to schools but don’t have the money at the time. I’ll actually be using one of those in three years, if I don’t get a full scholarship, which I doubt. Also, please call me Melanie in public places.” I explained softly, the loud clicking of keyboards and quiet whispers of the bank giving me the urge to talk as quiet as I could without not speaking at all. I was rather good at that actually.

 

“Tree!” he wailed, “But if you leave me I’ll be alone with the big meanie!” This of course, attracted  much unwanted attention and an annoyed grunt from Ash. I shrunk back and lightly tugged Max into a shadowy corner.

 

“Maxy it’s pronounced three not tree,” I said, “And we are in a bank, don’t be so loud. Also, don’t call Ash a meanie. It makes you the… meanie.” I said already beyond done with this “family outing” and with my actual family.

 

I sighed, wishing Mom and Derrick would hurry up. Knowing Mom, Derrick would have to convince, or bribe, her to leave. She always had the tendency to be extremely late and it rubbed off on seemingly everyone besides Derrick and I. Why did she want us to meet up in a place to quiet?

 

“Where’s Mama and Dada?” Max asked, his eyes already growing watery.

 

“You mean Mom and Derrick?” Ash said, spitting out the words at if they would burn his tongue. I never understood why Ash hated Derrick. I thought he was rather nice actually, much nicer than our actual father. Well, I assume. Not that I would ever tell Ashton that, he would just get angry.

 

“They’ll be here soon-”

 

Unfortunately I was unable to finish my sentence.

 

When the noises suddenly stopped I felt myself let out a sigh of relief. I opened my eyes and saw a man, average height with a rather husky build, wearing a black ski mask and tight, black clothes to match. He had a silver gun that looked very threatening.

 

Suddenly, in the silence of the room, everyone seemingly paralyzed, Max recovered. He began to cry loudly, covering his ears. Suddenly I wished my views on staying quiet had passed onto Max, but to no avail. I shrunk into the shadows, trying to pull Max with me. The robber noticed and walked over to us and grabbed Max by his shaggy, chocolate colored hair, dragging him slightly. He let out a strangled wail and the robber smiled. I suddenly noticed how rotten his teeth looked. He put the gun to Max’s head, making him cry louder, and turned to the bank tellers.

 

“I want Sixty million, or I shoot the kid” he demanded “I also want a helicopter out of here, over to Mexico. Call the police and tell them or this kid will be taking his last breaths right about now.”

 

My eyes widened but I made a fast attempt to compose myself. As soon as Max saw me worried he would realize just how bad the situation was. While I was desperately trying to make my expression neutral, Ashton looked like his eyes were going to bulge out of their sockets. I was suddenly very thankful for how terrible and unstable Ashton and Max’s relationship was and so unthankful that Ashton couldn’t put a lid on his emotions.

 

I began to think, hard. Sixty million was a lot to ask for, too much. Would the NYPD be able to meet his demands?

 

I was fairly certain I was about one minute away from throwing up. I was holding my breathe, all but trying to become a shadow myself. I had to stop this robber, and I knew I would be doing it solo.

 

Then again, when wasn’t I solo?

 

***

 

I heard the sirens before anyone else.

 

The sirens became louder and louder and my little, dark corner was illuminated with flashing red and blue lights. I winced slightly, the bright light stinging my eyes. Suddenly Ashton was pulled off of the floor and pushed forward.

 

“Tell the police my demands, as well as the consequences.” he barked, making Ashton shrink slightly. He gave a vigorous nod and all but sprinted out of the bank, his feet making a pit pat noise on the scratchy green carpet.

How was I supposed to stop a man with a gun, ambition, and my little brother. I had to somehow distract him and get Max away from him. But of course, there’s the issue of him shooting a civilian and then it’s on me. No, I had to disable the robber, get his gun away or knock him unconscious. Wow, didn’t sound quite as realistic when it’s put like that.

 

I straightened my shirt, which may have come across strange as it said “Follow Your Heart But Take Your Brain With You” and had some holes along the stitches. I tightened my ponytail and gave my head a small shake, making my caramel hair swing around. Ashton sat back down, his pale skin even paler, and looked at me, horrified. If I didn’t know any better I would say he was reading my mind. Sure we weren’t close but we could always read each other like open books. Yet, even with his ability to tell what I was thinking he wouldn’t stop me. He always stayed out of my way but recently I began to think he was just staying away from me.

 

I took out my Samsung Galaxy S5 and began to put my plan into action. The phone was new and I fought my mom on getting the Samsung Galaxy S6 but she denied and got me the five, mind you while Ash got the Samsung Galaxy 6 Edge, but now I couldn’t be happier. The Galaxy 5 was the last model out of the Galaxies to have a removable back.

 

I slid the back off the phone, trying not to attract the attention of the robber. Currently he was talking to one of the bank tellers, terrorizing the poor woman. I gave a small, sad, smile but continued on with my work. This would probably be the second riskiest part of the plan.

 

I dug the back of the phone into a small, plastic ring that held the beaded cord and pen to the green desk. I had to be fast though, as I was on the floor and had to raise my hand as high as it would go to reach the desk The ring was nearly pulled from the table when the robber seemed to notice I was up to no good.

 

“Oi! You over there, goth girl, stand up!” He shouted across the room. I quietly stood up, hiding the back of the phone behind my arm, just out of his line of vision.

 

“Y-yes sir!” I said, my voice shaking with fear.

 

The man was silent for a moment before he said, “You brought this kid in huh? Look where that got ya, now the poor kid is in danger of having his brains blown out.” He said with a southern drawl.

 

“Answer me!” he barked.

 

I whimpered slightly before saying “Y-yeah I brought him.”

 

he smiled, once again showing off his rotten teeth. He suddenly pushed me to the ground, making my back hit the table.

 

“Sit still.”

 

Once he turned around I quickly shoved the back of the phone back under the plastic ring and the cord came sliding to the floor. I wrapped it around my wrist, keeping the pen under my arm, and sat quietly. I would wait for the correct moment to strike and I wouldn’t fail. It appeared I would get to choke someone but this time it would be completely acceptable.

 

***

 

The right moment didn’t rise for a solid five minutes. Five minutes to much if you ask me.

The robber had yelled for Ashton to get up and pushed his back to the door. While the robber’s back was to me I decided that I had maybe thirty seconds to put the last part of the plan into action. But, at that moment my brain seemed to fail me and I felt absolutely sick. Conflicting thoughts raced through my mind making me dizzy.

“Do it, Max’s life is on the line!” and “Don’t make a fuss, don’t draw attention to yourself! It’s how they get you!” My thoughts continued to race through my mind like a whirlwind, making my mind seem like a muddled mess. Then, in the chaos that was my mind, I came to a decision to charge forward. I might not get another opportunity like this and for once in my lonely life I decided it was time to step out of the shadows and make a difference.

I raced forward and jumped up slightly, cursing my height or lack of it. I swung the beaded cord in front of the robber and pulled back suddenly, the cord wrapping around his neck. I jumped up, putting my feet on his back and leaning backwards. Now don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t exactly fat but I certainly wasn’t skinny. For once my weight gave me a small advantage or a bigger advantage than I would have without it. The robber, too startled to do anything, began firing the gun, all the bullets hitting the ceiling. At least at the time that’s was I thought.

People began running out of the bank and police began rushing in. I jumped back down onto the ground and dropped the cord. The robber turned around and swung his fist and I ducked, just barely avoiding the possibly fatal blow. I tried to run to the door when I felt a sudden, sharp, pain in my shoulder. I let out a yelp and fell onto the floor, my vision tunneling for a moment. I looked towards my shoulder, trying to asses the damage. My shoulder was covered in red, shiny, liquid. I choked out a gasp and heard shouts but they sounded so muddled, like they were underwater. I let out a soft groan and slipped into unconsciousness.

 

***

 

I sat in the most uncomfortable, hard, red, chair, staring at my paper and trying to read but it seemed that my brain didn’t want to function. I let out a small sigh and put my book away, opting to stare out the large, fingerprint covered windows instead. I looked closely and noticed there wasn’t a screen on the window. That seemed somewhat dangerous.

 

 

“So can anyone tell me what the author was trying to get across when writing this story?” my teacher asked.

 

I turned to her, wondering how she could get her hair into such a tight bun. Maybe all the bleach in her hair had damaged it so severely that it had no shape whatsoever. I looked down at the three page packet, desperately trying to brush away all the random thoughts that always seemed to make their way into my main focus. Everyone was glancing around the room awkwardly, looking to the smart kids to raise their hand and answer.

 

But no one did.

 

I glanced at the paper once again. I knew the answer and by the looks of my classmates I was the only one. I was about to raise my left hand when a bolt of pain raced across my arm. I winced and shifted the bandages, hoping that I didn’t tear any stitches in the once fatal bullet wound.

 

This time I raised my right arm. The teacher looked at me, her misty blue eyes wide. I don’t think I had ever volunteered willingly in this class or any class for that matter.

 

“Y-yes Melanie?”

 

“Well the main character was clearly too afraid to get involved with anything because he always felt like he didn’t belong and by shutting everyone out he signed his own death wish. I think the message of this story is you can’t simply hide from everything and if you always hide the results could be fatal and if you sometimes step out of your hiding spots it could yield great reward.” I said.

 

The teacher stared at me in shock along with the class. Whispers broke out before the teacher regained her composer.

 

“That is correct, Melanie. I’m glad someone in this class actually read the packet and tried to analyze it.”

 

My cheeks were so hot that they hurt and the curious stares my classmates were giving me weren’t helping. I desperately wanted to disappear but I couldn’t and if I could I don’t think I actually would. Baby steps Melanie…

 

I gave a shy smile and my classmates finally turned away, coming to the conclusion I just had a burst of confidence.

 

I let out a sigh but instead of annoyance it was much lighter, like I had finally done something right. I stared out the window again, admiring the bright, shining sun.

Now I’m not one to believe in symbolism but the shining sun gave me the feeling that today might just be a good day. Not that is wasn’t a good day already.