Barf

Nic had not thrown up in nearly five years. After Nic awoke from her pie-induced nap she felt more well-rested and energized than ever. She wanted to climb trees, run marathons, lift elephants! She felt so good that she almost forgot that she hadn't actually eaten any pie from the night before. Nic started walking, then sped up, then started running, then started sprinting. She could feel her shoes smacking the pavement faster and faster, she ran down the street, past Foo Foods, past the apartment building and kept running. She ran all the way around town and kept running lap after lap after lap. She ran until something stopped her in her tracks. There was a man on top of the apartment building with a gun. He was screaming as if there was someone with him but there was nobody there. She became worried, a man with a shotgun talking to himself-she figured that it couldn't end well. She saw the man abruptly fire a shot and kill a policeman. She was too shocked to move. The man then, bent over the edge of the broof and vomited over the side, splattering the street below. Nic started to feel awful, "Oh no," she thought, "this isn't happening." But it was. She bent over and vomited for the first time since puberty. She would never forget the awful acidic taste of the vomit flowing through her mouth. She tried to stand up, but slipped backward on the wet ground in front of her. the back of her head made a loud crack against the pavement, and Nic lay there, eyes wide open, blood flowing out of the back of her hair, staining both her hair and the street beneath her. And just then, Nic finally left Watershed Heights.