Mr. Travolta.
He was awesome. I remember the first time he showed up. All the kids admired him. He was cool, both as a teacher and a person. But after a while, I started to get worried.  Courtney noticed too. He was holding his head one day. First we thought it was a simple headache, but it soon occurred to us that we were wrong. It seemed like it got worse everyday, but there was something strange about it. He was always smiling. At lunch that day, we both sat on a soft blanket under a tree on the campus. "They're getting bigger," Courtney mumbled. I looked up after grimacing at my soggy, smashed nutella sandwich. “Say what?” I asked. Courtney did her usual rawr/snort face and pushed her glasses up higher so that they wouldn’t fall off. “I said they’re getting bigger,” she said a bit louder. I turned around and saw Brittany, who had just seen where we were sitting. “Well, when I figure out what you’re talking about, then we could—
“His fangs,” Courtney growled.
Brittany finally stepped over all the sunbathing college kids and waddled over to the spot where we sat. She plopped down on the blanket, and I looked back at Courtney. “His fangs?!” I yelled. Brittany spilled her bag on the blanket and angrily glared at me through her glasses. “What are you two talkin’ ‘bout?” she asked.
“Our computer graphics teacher, apparently,” I hastily answered.
“Meh, he’s probably trying to scare you,” Brittany said as she opened her bag and pulled out a freshly wrapped Italian hoagie (from Wawa) and several crinkled pieces of paper. Courtney laughed. The papers falling out the bag like that must have reminded her of Brit’s science experiment that blew up the entire science lab overnight last semester. It sure reminded me of that!
Brittany apparently got the hint and shot a loathing glare in Courtney’s direction. “Shut up,” she snorted as she flicked the paper out the way and grunted for a reason I had yet to find out. I guess she didn’t get a drink with that sandwich!
“’Ey Brit, think you can get me a sammich that’s not soggy?” I asked her. She shook her head quickly but briefly as she literally tore the wrapping off her hoagie and bit into it. I twitched. Then I stood up, feeling oh so irritated. I hated getting the answer no in some cases. (What can I say, I’m a bratty lil thing! ) “A’ight,” I grumbled, “I was gonna pay for your drink.”
I turned around and almost felt Brittany’s WTF glare.
“What money you got?” Brittany snorted at me. I looked at her and narrowed my eyes. “Revenue from that novel I’m selling,” I replied.
I strolled towards the food court building and heard Brit ask Courtney, “She’s still selling that silly novel?”

I had attempted to open the door to the building, but after a while I figured it was locked. The handles, for some reason, were extremely cold. I yanked my hand off the handles and winced. “It’s dangerous to touch that,” rang a voice from behind me. I spun around and my eyes widened at the sight of Mr. Travolta. I felt a lump in my throat. I breathed a bit faster than normal. I was terrified. Unable to move from sheer terror, I dropped to my knees as Travolta inched towards me, bearing his razor sharp fangs and reaching out to me before falling to the ground and cackling hysterically, again clinging to his own head.  I nervously got up, sidestepped around him, and dashed around many corners before literally flinging myself onto the blanket and panting hysterically. I was met by two annoyed glares (one more annoyed than the other), and I swear I felt something cold and wet seep between the thick hairs on my head that I had failed to craft into an aesthetically pleasing style that morning. As I sat up, Courtney chuckled and stood up. “Let’s get that hair washed,” she said. “There’s vitamin water and an Italian hoagie in it!”

We waited for the elevator and the PA system made its droning noise that basically screamed for our attention. The secretary announced that we all were to evacuate the building—for it appeared as if someone had launched a terrorist attack on the school. Brittany, Courtney, and I looked at each other and dashed out the doors, past our blanket, and across the campus. Unfortunately, we had to bear the screaming of all the stupid preppy girls, the slurred curses of the stoners, and the complaints of everyone else. We all jumped into Courtney’s Range Rover and instantly ended up on the turnpike heading towards New Jersey. “Go to KYW,” Brittany requested. “I wanna see wha’s goin’ on.”
I turned on the radio and brought KYW up. We sat in silence as the reported recited the details on what was going down.

“There have been numerous reports of several bodies being found with strange carvings located on the back of the necks of hundreds of dead bodies in scattered locations. Investigators are on their way to the crime scenes, and all citizens in the area have been evacuated. More details are to come when investigators gather the evidence they find. There are speculations as to whether or not this is a terrorist attack.”

I began asking myself questions. Did this mean that Travolta was dead? No. It couldn’t be. My mind was buzzing with so many questions until I heard a dreadful announcement on the radio.

“There is a blue haired terrorist charging down the turnpike towards New Jersey! All citizens are advised to get out their vehicles and evacuate the turnpike as soon as possible!”

I gritted my teeth as Courtney violently put the pedal to the medal, weaved through a maze of cars, got to a random exit, and drove off. My heart pounded as I turned my head to see cars flying all over the place, explosions, and a dark grey cloud of smoke lingering over the destroyed section of the turnpike. Courney turned at a traffic light and we ended up at a shopping center not too long after that. “Where are we going?” I asked her. Courtney opened the car door.
“If we’re gonna be trapped in the house or anything like that, we’ll need to stock up on supplies,” she told me. She got out the car and ran into the Shoprite. My head fell back into the chair as Courtney disappeared from sight. I looked in the rearview mirror at Brittany, who had fallen asleep not too long ago. She must have been watching anime all last night again. The ground shook as another explosion on the turnpike created an eruption of cars. Sadly enough, we were only a few miles away from that explosion. The town nearby suffered a chaotic blow from a storm of cars and dead bodies. Five minutes later, Courtney opened the car door and flung what little she had left from her trip to Shoprite into the back seat. I heard an irritated grunt emerge from behind me as Brittany sat up and rubbed her head. “So… what happened?” I asked Courtney as I buckled my seat belt. Courtney trembled with fear (not too much though, chick’s got GUTS) and her shaky hands grabbed  hold of the steering wheel.