Cell Phone
"Samuel...Samuel, pick up the cell!" Rianna Wallace stood shivering in the phone booth. Her friends had ditched her after a party, and now she was stuck on Fleet Street alone. "Please, Samuel? Come on..."
Rianna truly hated Fleet Street. There had been a series of gang-related shootings along the road, which was how it gained the nickname "Filet Street," but the best parties were along its sidewalks and under its buildings. Her friends had dragged her to a rave in one of the alleyways, but when she refused to take an "energy pill," they had left her to find a cooler crowd. Now she was out of luck.
Unless Samuel would hurry up and answer his damn phone.
It was always around him. Sure, sometimes it would get lost in the couch cushions, or "ignored" when he had a woman over, but it was always around. He had to be hearing it. Right? Right?
"Hello. You've reached Samuel Wallace..."
"Shit!"
"If you're a business representative waiting to give me a job, go ahead and leave me a message, and I'll get back to you. If it's Jennifer...I want to know how you got my new number. Thanks. Bye."
She let out a heavy sigh, hearing the squeal of rubber on road. Someone was probably taking a joy ride. "Samuel, it's Rianna. You know, your little sis? The one you're supposed to take care of when she needs your help? Look, I'm stuck on Fleet Street..."
The squealing became louder, and Rianna wished there was a door to the booth. "Come on, Samuel, you know this place creeps me out. I'm going to try again. Pick up." She hung up the phone, inserted more change, and tried again.
"Hello. You've reached..."
"Damn it, Samuel!" She watched a sporty little car peeled around the street. A little panicked now, Rianna waited for the message to end. "Samuel! God damn it, Samuel! Pick up the phone!"
The car raced down the road, and a window was rolled down. Rianna barely registered the hooded face as she dropped the phone.
Gun barrel, she thought. Run.
However, as soon as she took a step, the shot rang out. She felt it bury itself in her chest and let herself fall to her knees. "Samuel...? Call nine-one-one before you pick me up," she managed. The car was already gone. "I've just been shot."
The line cut out, and Rianna knew she was out of change. She curled into a corner of the booth and prayed for help that would never arrive.
-------
"Samuel...Samuel, pick up the cell!" Rianna Wallace stood shivering in the phone booth. Her friends had ditched her after a party, and now she was stuck on Fleet Street alone. "Please, Samuel? Come on..."
Rianna truly hated Fleet Street. There had been a series of gang-related shootings along the road, which was how it gained the nickname "Filet Street," but the best parties were along its sidewalks and under its buildings. Her friends had dragged her to a rave in one of the alleyways, but when she refused to take an "energy pill," they had left her to find a cooler crowd. Now she was out of luck.
Unless Samuel would hurry up and answer his damn phone.
It was always around him. Sure, sometimes it would get lost in the couch cushions, or "ignored" when he had a woman over, but it was always around. He had to be hearing it. Right? Right?
"Hello. You've reached Samuel Wallace..."
"Shit!"
"If you're a business representative waiting to give me a job, go ahead and leave me a message, and I'll get back to you. If it's Jennifer...I want to know how you got my new number. Thanks. Bye."
She let out a heavy sigh, hearing the squeal of rubber on road. Someone was probably taking a joy ride. "Samuel, it's Rianna. You know, your little sis? The one you're supposed to take care of when she needs your help? Look, I'm stuck on Fleet Street..."
The squealing became louder, and Rianna wished there was a door to the booth. "Come on, Samuel, you know this place creeps me out. I'm going to try again. Pick up." She hung up the phone, inserted more change, and tried again.
"Hello. You've reached..."
"Damn it, Samuel!" She watched a sporty little car peeled around the street. A little panicked now, Rianna waited for the message to end. "Samuel! God damn it, Samuel! Pick up the phone!"
The car raced down the road, and a window was rolled down. Rianna barely registered the hooded face as she dropped the phone.
Gun barrel, she thought. Run.
However, as soon as she took a step, the shot rang out. She felt it bury itself in her chest and let herself fall to her knees. "Samuel...? Call nine-one-one before you pick me up," she managed. The car was already gone. "I've just been shot."
The line cut out, and Rianna knew she was out of change. She curled into a corner of the booth and prayed for help that would never arrive.
-------
Ryan Nichole Jones is currently a junior at Mossyrok High School. She aims to have her book published one day.
Photograph by Nemo
1 comments:
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