Click. Click. Check. Scroll. Taptaptap. Microchips loves coding. He loves how every available brain cell dedicates itself to the task of giving the computer commands. Unlike real life, he has complete control over what the computer does. Anything he wants to change is a couple clicks away. If only he could do that in real life. In the span of just a few minutes, life had spun so hopelessly out of control. If only he could go back time and change everything with just a few clicks.
Microchips went through his mental checklist one more time. Pencil? Check. Scratch Paper? Check. Calculator? Check. Microchips had studied all week long. He was ready for his quiz in Calculus AB.
Mr.Cranky-doodle was a tough teacher, but that is why Microchips liked him. He only wished that Sandalwood, his best friend, was in the class too. Sandalwood was one of the few people that did not make him feel awkward. Microchips often got embarrassed about how much he knew, but Sandalwood celebrated it.
“There is a quiz today. You kids better have studied!” Mr. Cranky-doodle growled, passing out the test. Microchips tucked into his test, leaping into the first math problem; he had entered math land, a state of oblivion where only math mattered.
“Code Red...Code Red...This has is not a drill...this is not a drill.” Microchips’s first thought was ugh, now! I’m taking an important quiz here! But then he realized that she did not say it was a drill! So wait, this is the real thing? It can’t be! That is so unlikely. This town? This time? A Code Red? Nonono! This must be drill.
Brain cartwheeling, Microchips walked to the farthest corner from the door, just like in the previous drills. He sighed. He wanted to finish the test. Minutes passed. Microchips closed his eyes. He was bored out of his mind.
Wait! Was that a gunshot? No! No way! It couldn’t be! He must been hearing things. But Microchips heard it again. And again. And again. Microchips just could not accept it.
Not until a bullet hurtled through the door. It is special shatter proof glass, it won’t shatter out on us. Wait! A gun! A bullet! Oh stupid stupid stupid! It was really happening! At least the bullet hit no one.
Still, there were more bullets, zooming faster than he could see. Microchips’s vision blurred. I can’t believe it. He thought. I’m going to die. And I have not even discovered cold fusion yet.
Then, Microchips witnessed the most amazingly noble act he had ever seen. Ever will see. Mr. Cranky-doodle leaped in front of the students, protecting them with his body.
Microchips watched with growing horror as bullet after bullet hit Mr.Cranky-doodle’s body. Mr. Cranky-doodle’s body went limp from the pain. Microchips heart screamed. Mr.Cranky-doodle, the meanest teacher of them all, was dead. And he had died for the students. Mr.Cranky-doodle had died for Microchips.
Microchips grabbed the nearest backpack and chucked it at the gunman. He hated her more than anything he had ever hated in his life. Then he grabbed a chair. Anything he could throw at her. The other students joined in. The gunman took off.
Microchips had no heart to chase her. He knelt at Mr.Cranky-doodle’s side. “Someone get the first aid kit!” He shouted. Toe Tapper pressed his hands to the gun wounds, trying to hold back the blood. The sight of it welling through Toe Tapper’s fingers made Microchips feel sick.
“Mr.Cranky-doodle!” He cried, tears coming from his eyes.
Mr.Cranky-doodle shushed him. “I don’t want you kids to get upset over me. I am old and do not regret my sacrifice one bit. It is my job to protect you. You have your full lives ahead of you, kids. You are going to do wonderful things. Wonderful things.” Mr. Cranky-doodle coughed and closed his eyes.
Microchips realized that he was holding Mr.Cranky-doodle’s hand. All around him, students were either crying, shivering, or staring with stunned, blank expressions.
Letting go of Mr.Cranky-doodle’s hand was painful. Microchips had been gripping Mr.Cranky-doodle’s hand so hard that both hands were bleeding. Microchips wiped the blood on his pants and stood up.
He grabbed a bunch of quizzes, including his own, and taped them over the window to keep anyone from seeing in or the glass shatteringly He wanted to do something, but there was nothing left to do now but huddle in the corner with the rest of the students.
When the police arrived, Microchips was the first to tell them everything that happened.
Maybe Microchips cannot change what had already happened, but he can change now. He reminds himself that he happened to life, not life happened to him. The time is now. He turns back to the computer. Click. Clack. Click. Click. Clack. He sends an email to a state senator. Click. Click. Click. He posts on a blog. Clack. Tap. Click. Click. A new website is on the internet. You know the purpose.