Homecoming
by Frannie Rooney
Sage, Kelly, and I went to the Homecoming Dance to kidnap Frank Wiggins, a senior at a high school across town. I had just learned his name the night before.
Kelly lured him into the parking lot, unnoticed, Sage hit him over the head with a shovel, and we dragged him into the backseat of Sage’s Kia Sorrentino, the one her parents got her last year for her 16th birthday.
After we tied his unconscious hands and feet together and put duct tape over his mouth, I asked earnestly, “Now what?”
Sage pulled her car keys out of her dress pocket.
“Ooo, that dress has pockets?” Kelly asked.
Sage ignored her and got in the driver’s seat.
Kelly went around on the other side. “You’re stuck with him,” she told me.
“Why do I have to sit in the back with him?” I groaned.
Sage drove for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes, trying to get as far away from Palm Beach Gardens High and towards the Beeline Highway where it was pitch black, no streetlights.
Sage pulled to the side. There were no cars. There was no breeze, just humidity rising from the swamp around the highway. Palm trees swayed in the distance.
“What’s the plan now?” I asked.
Sage didn’t say anything. She quietly went to the trunk of her car and pulled out a gun.
“What’s that for?” I took a few steps back.
“Relax, Gianna.” Sage aimed the gun at the swamp behind the car. “It’s not for you.”
Sage rang out two shots from her small gun. They were loud, louder than I imagined coming from such a tiny thing.
“Jesus Christ,” Kelly moaned. “Why the fuck are you shooting at nothing?”
“I’ve never shot it before,” Sage explained, “I watched some YouTube videos last night, you know, after I heard this fucking pig was going to our homecoming with Rachel Chait. And you know these things have a lot more kickback than you think, so it’s hard to aim. Harder than it looks in the movies.”
“Where did you even get that?” Kelly asked.
“It’s my dad’s, duh.” Sage forced a laugh and immediately stopped. She turned and pointed the gun at the swamp again, muttering something to herself.
“I thought this whole tying him up and leaving him out here in the middle of nowhere was just to scare him,” Kelly continued. She pulled her thick brown hair into a ponytail. “Now we have to shoot him?”
“I have to shoot him,” Sage corrected. “He didn’t do anything to you.”
We were silent. She was right. We didn’t even know who he was or what happened over the summer until last night.
Sage continued, “You can both wait in the car. Plausible deniability or whatever it’s called.”
“Plausible deniability?” Kelly raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I watch Law and Order, okay? The point is you both don’t see me do it. You both aren’t involved.”
Kelly and I stood still in front of the car, blocking the door to Frank.
“Yeah, that’s how we’ll do it. Help me get it out, and then you both wait in the car,” Sage instructed.
Kelly and I didn’t move.
“You don’t want to ruin your life over him,” I squeaked.
Sage pointed the gun at us. I took a deep breath. I could feel Kelly shaking beside me. “Move,” she demanded. “Fucking move!” She screamed.
“Please,” she whispered, “please.” She started crying.
Kelly and I walked closer to Sage and embraced her lightly from an awkward distance, trying to avoid the gun by her side.
It was a beautiful moment until Frank kicked the door, reminding us why we were here in the first place. He was conscious again.
Sage broke away from us and opened the door. He fell to the ground.
“Fuck you.” Sage spit on him.
Sage and Kelly dragged him by his feet a few feet away while I got in the car. Kelly then joined me in the backseat. We waited for a few minutes. I heard two shots, but I don’t know what happened.
Plausible deniability. Or whatever it’s called.
Frannie Rooney is an MFA student at the New School in New York City, concentrating in fiction. She has previously taught English at a high school in Miami, Florida, an elementary school in Austin, Texas, and the University of Málaga in Spain as a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant. Originally from West Palm Beach, she writes about Florida whenever she can. She can be contacted at frooney561@gmail.com.