By Maggie (Age 13, Hong Kong International School)
Editor's Note: This is an alternate ending to Tobias Wolff's short story, "Bullet in the Brain".
We walk into the room. Instant terror washes over the crowded bank. Eyes widen as they begin to notice the pistol I'm gripping. A trembling guard mumbles some incomprehensible words, his eyes tightly shut. He was clearly terrified of my hand on his shoulder. I point the pistol to his neck, and the feeling of adrenalin bursts within me. As always, I welcome the feeling as if it is a member of my family. This feeling is so familiar. It's like a best friend I grew up with, never leaving me, always bringing out the best, and worst, of me.
"Keep your big mouth shut!" I yell, noting that the remark was unnecessary. "One of you tellers hits the alarm, you're all dead meat, got it?" I wince as I realize how cliche my last statement was. My partner looks at me with a confused look, and it was clear that on the inside, he is laughing, mocking my petty threat. A man in line makes a quick remark about the phrase "dead meat". Part of me wants to shoot him right then and there, but I have to stick to the plan.
Handcuffing and pushing the helpless guard to the ground, I clutch the collection of hefty bags that will soon hold our money. I begin to pass a hefty bag to the tellers, commanding them to fill them with money. I make sure to swagger as I walk, to show off my confidence and my superiority. The rush of actually robbing a bank used to freak me out, but now I'm used to it. I start to walk with a skip in my step, a slight smirk on my face; everything is going according to plan. My slight smile disappears as I come to the last slot, which is empty. This could take more time and more time means more reinforcements.
"Whose slot is that?" Impatience comes through my voice as I shout across the building.
"Mine," a shaken up lady manages to croak.
"Then get your ugly face in gear and fill that bag!" I bask in the realization of how much power I currently have. I can insult someone and they can't do a single thing.
The same obnoxious man makes another remark to the lady standing next to him. "Hey! Bright boy! Did I tell you to talk?"
"No," my gun clearly doesn't threaten him.
"Then shut your trap."
"Did you hear that?" he says, starting to anger me. "Bright boy. Right out of 'The Killers.'" The woman next to him mumbles something to him, probably a warning.
I walk over to him, warning him to keep his mouth shut. I can tell he is laughing on the inside. I can't stand being laughed at. I push the pistol to his gut. Then, everything happens so fast. He grabs my arm with surprising force, twists it, and takes the gun. The feeling of power washes away and shifts to the man with the gun.
He points the gun straight between my eyes, but clearly he doesn't know how to work it. I hide my fear with a petty laugh, but everyone knows I'm terrified. The man attempts to put the safety on, but instead pulls the trigger. The bullet crashes through my skull, right between the eyes.
It seemed like time slowed down. What felt like an hour was really a few seconds. I could feel the unbearable pain, the harsh voices around me, but slowly, they both faded, and a new setting appeared.
Three boys hanging outside the local drug store, showing all the other boys how cool they are. And a little boy; one would never guess that he would grow up to be a bank robber. The way the boy gazed at the other boys, it was clear he idolized them.
Then a petite young woman, frail and helpless, hobbles across the street with a purse clutched in one hand. The boys turned to each other and started to plot.
"Hey, we want you to go up to her and take her purse," the oldest boy gestured to the little boy, then to the woman.
"No way, that's mean."
"You want to be in our group, right?"
"Yeah," there was no hesitation in his response. He longed to be one of them.
"Then you gotta do it. You're not chicken, are ya?" the oldest boy taunted him.
"No! I just think it's mean, is all. If you're so brave, why don't you do it?!"
"Fine, I will! Watch how it's done," the eldest boy confidently swaggered over to the young woman. "Excuse me, ma'am," his voice was strangely polite. "You've seemed to have dropped something, it's rolled far behind you," he pointed off behind the woman.
In a flash, the boy grabbed the purse and darted away from the woman. She whipped her head around just in time to see the boys scooting around the corner.
"Stop! Stop! That's my purse!" she started hobbling after them.
"Run!" the pack of boys sprinted away. The youngest felt the most odd rush of excitement. His heart was thudding in his chest, adrenaline overwhelming his body. He had never done anything bad before, but now, he liked it.
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