A High

Alongside a few of his classmates, with his wild gaze riveted to the phone’s screen, he watched the hunched figure punch the helpless boy in the face repetitively. He noticed the bloodied knuckles kept pummeling the nose’s soft tissue and were relentless still. Then, the figure stopped, pulled the boy by the collar of his crumpled shirt and pushed him down roughly. He pulled the boy back up and punched him in the face again. Then, he slowly turned to look at the camera behind him and grinned evilly.

Jehoiada jumped back so hard that his spine connected with the sharp edge of Jonadab’s desk, speaking of whom was nowhere to be found, having missed the first and second classes already. He struggled to regain his balance and won miserably. He steadied the tottering table and turned his attention back to the scene before him, only to be arrested by the accusatory looks from his “friends”. Suddenly, he felt like they had slipped a noose around his neck and drawn it tight against his bobbing Adam’s Apple. He swallowed hard, and it made a loud thud.

“Why? Why did you do it, Je?” Levi asked, his eyes glistening with blazing shock.
“You…,” he swallowed and attempted again. “You honestly don’t believe I would do such a thing,” he replied carefully, looking around for support.
But none offered, none gave; all they did was stare on with contempt and disappointment; his thumping heart sank.

The bell signalling the end of the lunch break shrilled noisomely, and immediately, the classroom filled up with other students who walked in transfixed by their phones. Jehoiada shut his eyes in heavy despondence as his ears caught on to the sound of violence emanating from several devices. The rhythms were similar; he recognised the gutted gasps and indignant sighs and died a thousand times more. The questions bombarded him at once, and on the cusp of being surrounded, he crouched under Jonadab’s desk.
“Where is he?!” he groaned within.

The door opened abruptly, and the racket died simultaneously. Jehoiada raised his head to find his class teacher and best friend moving toward him. He breathed a prayer of gratitude and rose to his feet to meet them. For some reason unknown to him, he couldn’t quite catch Jonadab’s eyes, who kept his face down and had his hands tucked in his pockets.
“Je…” his teacher began with a worried look. “The principal and some men are expecting you in the cafeteria area. I’ll need you to come with me now.”

At that moment, his heart began to pump much more blood into his stream than was required. He felt his palms grow sweaty but refused to blink for fear that the tears lurking at the corners would fall.
“Please, sir, who are the men?” he croaked.
“Who they are is of no concern to you, young man.” Mr Hiram lashed out at him. Catching himself, he softened his tone with compassion and said, “All you need to know is that they are expecting you.”
The young man cast a forlorn look at his friend a final time for reassurance; finding none, he squared his shoulders, raised his chin and walked on before the class with as much dignity as he could muster.

The blazing siren rang off sourly from the police car as it conveyed Jehoiada with the two men in black out of school. His mates looked on as it wound down the drive emitting black smoke from its tired exhaust pipe.

Just then, Salem, the helpless boy from the violent video, walked into the class to drop off a borrowed textbook. He called for their attention as he couldn’t find its owner. Everyone turned around and gasped in horror, wondering what to make of the seeming apparition before them as he looked too clean compared to who they’d watched and was clearly unhurt. Only Jonadab looked on with satisfaction in his eyes.

“AI is the future,” he muttered as the frenzy took on another wave. “But it’s all fun and games for now,” he said, chuckling to himself.