Snails’s head hurts. All around him, there are choices waiting to be made. Any choice he makes will lead to a whole new selection of choices to make. Snips used to help him make choices, but now...There is one huge choice looming above him. He hears the choice. Smells it. Sees it. Tastes it. FEELS it. He has to make it...but he can’t! He can’t! To Snails’s horror, the choice is making itself.
Snails was in band class, one of his favorites. Unlike so many classes, there was just him and his trumpet. The director told him what he needed to do, and the director did not, the sheet music did. No tests. No thoughts. Just playing his instrument. Best of all, Snips. If any choices had to be made, Sninps would just make them for him.
Sometimes, Snails wished that he was smarter and bolder, able to make choices.
Still, every time he had to make one was torture. But he did not have to worry about it now. The moment is now. Snails did not reflect on the past or ponder the future. He just acted, and that was the way he liked it.
Now, he was playing the monochromatic scale. Something was inturupting him. He did not like inturuptions. Once Snails started something he had to finish it. He played right through the announcement, wondering what was, but having a determination to finish the scale.
“Snails! Get down.” Said Snips. Snails was torn. He wanted to finish the scale, but Snips was telling him to do something. Snails got down. He would not have done it for anybody but Snips.
He bent his lanky frame underneath the seat. Snails wanted to know why. Why did he have to do this? Snails twitched, fingers wanting to finish the scale. He lifted the instrument to his mouth.
“No! Code Red!” Said Snips gently. Code Red...what was that? Something in the back of Snails’s brain panicked. Snails ignored it.
Snails loved Snips because he was always nice. Snips never judged him for making stupid choices. Snips just helped him.
Finally, he realized what a Code Red was. Someone bad. Someone bad was in the building.
Snails dropped his trumpet with a crash. All the students’ hearts raced faster. Snails closed his eyes. “So sorry so sorry so sorry so sorry!” His brain screamed.
Nothing happened. Snails allowed himself to relax. Whew! Code Red should be done any minute now. Not so fast! The students’ blood ran cold.
She seemed to materialize into the room. There was no where to hide. Everyone was screaming. The gun banged. A student fell to the ground. Snails could not see the fallen student’s face. Snails wondered who it was.
The teacher ran to the door. “Everyone out! Just run!” He bellowed, holding open the door. Children ran, screaming out the door.
Another student, Octavia, fell. The gunman picked off a couple other students as they were trampled by the stampede of running students.
Snails was frozen. He. Could. Not. Move. TERROR! Snips! Glorious Snips! Snips pulled him up. “Run!” He shouted. They ran. Snails had only one thought, the most important thought he ever thought. Run!
But Snips was slow, a bad runner. Snips fell down. Snails was frozen again. “Run! Leave me!” Snips cried. “Better just me than the both of us.” Snails ran faster than ever before, long legs bounding like some wild animal’s, tears streaming from his eyes.
He did not stop. Not even when he heard the gunshot. Not even when he knew Snips was dead. Not even when he heard the gunshot. Not even when he was one mile away. Not even when he heard the gunshot. He stopped running when he had no energy left and he fell to the ground.
His body had done all it could. It was his brain’s turn now. Had he done the right thing? Yes. Snips would have died anyway. Was it his fault? No. Only the gunman’s fault. Would it happen again? No. Never. Not if he did anything about it...Eventually the police found him and took him home.
What would Snips want? Does it matter? Snips is dead. There is nothing Snails can do about that. Actually, there is. Snails just has to remember him. Snips is in his head. Snips will help him make choices. It is what Snips wants, because Snips has left behind many gifts of memory. Snails is not alone.