Free Cracked by K. M. Walton

that throwing the brass bee the was most satisfying because it was heavy. So I scan my room for anything that has some weight to it and grab the cordless phone.
    “No one has ever called me on this thing any”—I throw the phone as hard as I can—“WAY!” It shatters into a lot of pieces against the wall, and I feel good.
    Next, I go for my bedside lamp. I pick it up and am happy that my mother likes expensive things, because it’s solid brass. Out comes the plug, and I wind up and throw it with every bit of strength I have. It, too, leaves a hole in the drywall. Way bigger than the bee’s.
    I look around my room again. Every surface is empty. I’ve thrown everything there is to throw. That’s when I start to sob. I mean loud sobs. I fall to my knees and just go for it.
    After my face is covered in pathetic weakness and the sounds I make deteriorate into whimpers, I know I have nothing left. My arm shakes as I slowly lift it to check my watch. I have cried for an hour. School started a long time ago. And it hits me again: the fact that no one will give a damn that I’m not there today. No one will even notice.
    I suddenly have a purpose. I get up and walk to my parents’bathroom. The timing couldn’t be better, I tell myself. I hope she hasn’t packed what I’m looking for.
    I open my mother’s medicine cabinet and nod. I scan the shelves and reach for the bottle I want. My hand doesn’t tremble when I reach for it. It is as steady as a rock. I give the bottle a shake. Freshly refilled.
    “Yes!”
    I leave the bottle in the bathroom, go back, and close my bedroom door. I cross the hall and walk back into my parents’ bathroom. I close that door too. I want Jazzer as far away as possible from what I’m about to do. But I laugh, because she’ll know. We are about to see each other. I read once that animals can talk in heaven. If Jazzer can talk, then I’m about to get a real talking-to.
    Back in my parents’ bathroom, I pop five pills in my mouth and swallow them down with lukewarm tap water.
    Five more.
    Five more.
    Five more.
    I refill the bathroom cup and take five more. I walk back to my room. Lying next to Jazzer seems like a great place to die. She was the only one who ever really loved me, so it seems right.
    I sit on the edge of my bed. My stomach grumbles, and Isquish the ultraplush carpet under my feet. It’s so soft. I look up to check the time on my alarm clock, but it’s in pieces. I look at my watch.
    7:53.
    My nana will be here soon. I feel guilty that she’ll be the one to find me, but at this point, there’s nothing I can do. I curl up next to Jazzer. I’m so tired from crying.
    I’ve done it. I’ve really done it. I’ve re . . .

Bull
    I WAKE UP IN A HOSPITAL ROOM, WITH THE CURTAIN pulled around my bed. I’m alone. Various beeps and lots of people talking make it impossible for me to go back to sleep. I wonder if my grandfather is alive. We struggled with the gun, I remember that. But he must’ve knocked me out. I don’t remember anything past that punch.
    Know this: I’d never loaded the gun, never checked to see if the gun was loaded, never even thought that the gun could be loaded. I never went back a step to think about, say, someone’s uncle putting a loaded gun into a brown paper bag and leaving it in a closet. No, I never thought about that.
    I slide my bottom jaw from left to right. Yeah, Pop knocked me out. I’ve gotta go to the bathroom. I sit up, and that’s when I see that I’m all wired up. I still have to go to the bathroom, though, wires or no wires. I go to move my legs, and volcano-hot pain rips through my right thigh.
    “What the . . . ?” I yell out. I rip off the blankets, and I’m staring at bandages from just below my knee all the way up to my groin. I try to move again. Bad idea.
    “Owwww! What the . . . ?!”
    The curtain flies open.
    “Easy there, killer. Easy,” says a nurse. She’s totally hot. Tall and skinny with long brown hair, perfect