"Uh, sorry, Jon, I gotta practice. I'll talk to you later."
Before Jon could reply Julie had turned back to her teammates. It was his smile. That creepy fucking smile. She supposed she'd have to face up to him sooner or later, but she just wasn't ready. Maybe she could bump into him in the hallway sometime. It might be easier to break his heart in a crowded setting as she hurried on her way to class. As she jogged back onto the floor, Julie could see that something was up. Erika and a few of the other girls were gaping at her with slack jawed horror.
"What's wr..." Julie was interrupted mid sentence by the report of a gun shot. She had stopped running, now frozen in a stiff position, her face contorted with confused disbelief. Looking down at herself, Julie saw a black hole in her white T shirt just above her right breast. As she watched, blood began to pump out of her body and course down her shirt.
Julie looked at her teammates with wide, questioning eyes, as if to say, what's this? Of course, Julie knew what had happened, but her mind refused to accept it. Maybe I'm dreaming, she thought. There was another gun shot, and Julie felt the bullet tear through her chest, exiting from her right breast.
Julie's body jerked with the impact, and a splash of blood stained the hardwood floor a dark, sinister red. Blinking prettily, Julie flinched as she was shot a third time. This bullet left a hole in the left side of her shirt, under her left breast, spilling more of her blood as it ripped through her perfect young body.
Her expressive blue eyes were panicked and pain stricken, desperate for help, and Julie opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, crimson spewed from her parted lips. Her lungs were filling up with blood, and she was drowning. Her facial expression gave the impression that she wasn't sure whether to laugh or to cry. Her once sturdy legs were suddenly flimsy as straws, and Julie sank to her knees.
Two more gun shots crashed through the gym, and Julie's back arched as the two slugs struck her in the lower dorsal. A pair of exit wounds opened up in her belly, one on each side of her navel, and blood spouted from her abdomen, soaking her gym shorts and streaming down her thighs.
As she pressed her hands to her mid section, Julie was shot for the sixth time that fateful day. The bullet entered her upper back, narrowly missing her spine, travelled downward through her body at a thirty degree angle, punched through the most vital muscle in her body, and exited between her breasts. Jon had delivered the coupe de grace, shooting her through the heart.
Julie's astounding blue eyes bulged in their sockets, her perfect mouth yawning in shock, and she collapsed face first on the gym floor. She raised her head slightly, tried to pick herself back up, then fell still. Julie Huerta was dead.
She never learned why Jon shot her. She never knew he had been spying on her in the hallway, and that he had watched her tear up his letter.
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