Kelly pulled into the school parking lot and let the rusted hunk of scrap metal idle for a minute before she hit the kill switch. Wisconsin weather was piling up in the eastern sky, threatening snow. The fake leather interior lost its warmth quickly with the feeble heater switched off and the harsh morning chill seeped in. Kelly didn’t bother to notice her body heat fade from her tiny, 98-pound frame or that her thin cardigan stood no chance against the ice-laden breeze. Her wispy brown hair was slipping out of the bun she’d tossed it in. It fell into place around her pale, oval face, framing high cheekbones and angel bow lips. She sat staring blankly out the cracked windshield and mechanically rubbing her cold fingers together.

There was a gun in her backpack.

Small and heavy and stolen.

Just a handful of metal, it didn’t look like it could do much damage. But she’d seen the police-issued Glock in action before and it deserved some credit.

Kelly had vaguely hoped the handgun was loaded when she dumped it in her bag that morning. She didn’t know how to reload and had no idea where the safety was. But she could pull the trigger.

A minute ticked by on the watch clipped to the belt loop of her clingy jeans.

The classroom was small with the student desks concentrated in the center. It would take her all of six seconds to unload the clip into a few predetermined targets. Quick, precise shots and two deep breaths was all it would take. Blood would pool on the tile floor from major arteries blasted open, each panicked heartbeat pumping out crimson. Anyone left intact would stare in shock at the skinny girl clutching a Glock thicker than her tiny hands.

For a brief second, Kelly wondered if anyone would scream.

A knock at the driver’s window startled her back into the chilly Monday morning. Adam stood outside, trying to fit all six foot two of himself inside his hoodie. His thick blonde hair was unbrushed and probably unwashed, hanging in his eyes no matter how many times he tried to sweep it back with calloused fingers. A sleepy grin animated his face as he wiped a runny nose on his shoulder.

Kelly rolled down the window and let him plant a cold kiss on her forehead. His lips lingered there a second longer that usual, pressed against the little warmth her skin offered.

“Morning”, Adam managed through a wide-mouthed yawn. “What’s going on?”

Kelly glanced at her backpack on the seat next to her. Six quick gunshots cracked in her imagination.

“Not much”, she said, pushing open the rusted car door. “It’s just another Monday.”