Page 30 - The Window_ A Foundations' Style Rapier

I don’t miss the plants - they are too intriguing to miss - and it reminds me that tomorrow is the
day of the interrogation. I walk down the sidewalk, observing everything that’s happening around me,
and peeking into alleyways between buildings to see if anything exciting is happening. Everything
seems to be normal, as usual, so I turn around and start heading back to my apartment. I check my
watch, and it’s been 20 minutes since I left, so it would be 20 minutes back, leaving me just enough time
to get home before school starts again.
⬥
As I make my way back toward my apartment, sudden movement catches my attention. I whip my
head into the alley next to me, and hide behind a thick pole as I watch the scene unfold.
There’s a tall man wearing another beige trench coat - a government official, and a young,
scrawny boy who looks like he hasn’t eaten in months. The man in the trench coat advances on the
young boy with a rouge glint in his eye.

“Give it back,” he growls menacingly.
The boy frantically looks around, as if trying to gauge
the best escape route. “What are you talking about?” he
whimpers.
This makes the man angry, and he grabs for the boy,
holding him tightly. The boy struggles, but he can’t wiggle
out of the man’s iron grip.
“Where is it?” his rough voice asks again, even more
agitated than before.
Shaking, the boy slowly reaches into his right pocket
and reveals a tiny succulent in a miniature ceramic pot
emblazoned with the emblem of Lumet. The leaves are
crippled, and the tiny plant seems on the verge of death. He
grudgingly hands it to the man, and the man brings the
plant up to his eyes, studying it closely. Still holding the
plant, he drops the boy, who groans and rolls around on the
ground rubbing his arms where the man had grabbed hold
of him. Sole
The boy doesn’t see the glint of metal under the beige
trench coat, but I do. He doesn’t see the man unfurling a Anonymous Photographer,
hand pistol, but I do. He doesn’t make a choice, but I do.
Class of 2026

I yell, to catch the man’s attention and dive for the gun. Ripping it out of the man’s hand before
he knows what’s happening, I swat the gun to the ground and motion to the boy, screaming, “Go! Go!”
The boy takes advantage of the opportunity and runs out of the alley while the man is still
distracted with me. I know I have no chance against the man in a fight, so I follow the boy, sprinting out
of the alleyway, but the man is expecting me to run. He lunges for my ankles and manages to yank my
shoe off and trip me. I fall face-first in the muddy, dirty alley and scramble to my feet, wincing from the
bruises soon to come. Spinning around, I come face first to the man, who promptly grabs my collar and
hoists me up into the air. I panic, flailing around in the air, my legs dangling a few feet off the ground,
but realize fighting won’t do me any good.
“Now who do we have here?” the man asks gleefully, reaching into my left coat pocket where my
non-existent ID should be. He looks at me expectantly when he only finds a couple of old gum wrappers
and a peice of grey twine.
“Astrid Griffin,” I answer, trying to keep my voice from wavering, “And I don’t have any part in this!”

29 Continued from page 28