You're Going to Die

"Pete?" someone asks.

"What?" Pete looks up from his shoes and glances around the area for the source of the small voice. Another boy in his class--Pete's pretty sure his name is Patrick, but the guy never talks--is staring at him intently. He sort of nods when he catches Pete's eyes. "Me?" Another nod. "What d'you want?" Pete really doesn't want to leave his spot in the line--their class always makes it last to the cafeteria, and being at the end of the line means that you get soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and funny-smelling milk. He also knows that if he tells that Patrick kid to come over there, then they'll both be yelled at for cutting. He can't win either way, so he takes the route of less yelling and walks over to the kid, who's still sitting at the table. "I'm here."

"Before lunch and, ultimately, recess, I need you to know: you're going to die." Patrick speaks as soon as Pete's finished with his little statement. His voice is soft and clear, and every word he speaks has a purpose behind it. He tucks a few stray pieces of hair behind his hair as he waits for Pete's reaction.

Now, considering the fact that Pete is in fifth grade, the one thing he's never expected to hear outside of a movie is, "you're going to die." Especially since it's directed to him and since it's said by the weirdest kid in the whole fifth grade.

"What?" he says again, then feels kinda stupid. Patrick had been precise in his wording. "I-I'm gonna die?" It comes out as sort of a squeak, and Pete knows he didn't mean to sound that scared about it. Why would he have reason to be afraid? Patrick's the weird kid in the class, the one who never talks and always finishes everything first and who has the plain grey backpack and no-one's ever seen his parents. One of Pete's friends is half-convinced that the kid is an alien or something.

Patrick just nods in response. There's a very, very grave look in his blue-green-grey eyes (Pete swears that they change color every time he looks at them). Then he stands up and, without another word to Pete, walks to the back of the lunch line. Pete considers asking if he can cut in front of a group of his friends--he can see them staring at him already--then wonders if he'd get yelled at for it. Right behind his group is a couple of girls who tend to scream at anyone who gets in line ahead of them. He groans and walks to the end of the line, standing behind the now-silent Patrick. Pete crosses his arms over his chest and sighs.

Looks like soggy sandwiches and sour milk for him.

*

"Why were you hanging out with that kid?" Ryan, one of Pete's friends, asks as soon as Pete joins their table. He wrinkles his nose at the sandwich and milk on Pete's tray.

Pete shrugs and looks down, staring at his food and thinking about Patrick's dire warning.

"He can't be that--" another of his friends, Andy, starts, only to be cut off by the lightning fast hand of Brendon, who grabs Pete's sandwich.

"Ooh, is that mold?" he ponders, pointing at a greenish spot on top of the plastic wrapped sandwich. Brendon inspects it and frowns.

Ryan rolls his eyes and smirks. "Bren, you don't wanna get gross sandwich all over your Sunday best."

"Why do your parents even make you wear that stuff anyway?" Jon asks. He's one of the newer kids at the school, but Ryan's been his neighbor for ages--so he became part of Pete's circle of friends.

"It's 'cause his parents are sending him to Catholic school," Spencer answers with a knowing smile.

"Shut up, idiot," Brendon says, "I'm Mormon."

Spencer sticks his tongue at Brendon from across the table. "Whatever. They're sending him to Mormon school."

Andy senses the dip in conversation and turns back to Pete. "Anyways, he can't be that bad."

"Who're you talking about?" Pete asks. He's temporarily forgotten about Patrick and his own impending doom.

"Patrick. I mean, he's quiet and he says weird stuff, but I don't think he could be that bad," Andy replies, picking at the noodles his parents sent him to school with.

"Patrick? You mean Stump?" Ryan leans over toward Andy and Pete, his voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper. "I heard he's an alien." His light brown eyes are gleaming with excitement.

"Aliens don't exist, Ryan," Andy states.

"Yeah," Spencer adds. "D'you still believe in Santa, too? I heard that you still leave cookies for him on Christmas Eve." He snorts and takes a sip of his lemonade.

Ryan's blushing now. "Shut up, I was eight."

"Yeah, but you're ten now and I heard you did it last Christmas," Spencer says before going back to his homemade sandwich. Pete wonders why his parents never send him to school with lunch.

Then he wonders why Ryan thinks that Patrick is an alien. Maybe it's because he's quiet to the point of being nearly antisocial. Or because he walks home alone, seemingly. Or maybe it's because--like Andy said--the kid has said some pretty weird things. Like that time it was a perfectly sunny morning and Patrick brought an umbrella--and he said it was because it was going to rain, and then it rained (even though the forecasts had said it would be sunny all day). Or like the time that he told Joe that he would do fine on the spelling test (even though Joe kept saying that he hadn't even looked at the list) and then he aced it.

Pete's heart stops when he thinks of every time that Patrick has ever really talked and how it would always be to say something that seemed totally impossible, only for it to happen later. His mouth runs dry when he wonders if Patrick's a psychic or something. Oh my gosh, Pete thinks, I'm gonna die and I'm not even 12 yet. He's about to get up and look for Patrick when Brendon gets his attention.

"Earth to Pete! Mr. Wentz! Are you still with us?"

Not for much longer, he thinks. "Yeah, I'm here," he says instead.

"Good, 'cause I thought we'd lost you for a minute," Brendon says. "Anyway, are you gonna watch the new Spongebob episode on Saturday? Cause it looks really good and no-one else wants to watch it with me."

"Yeah, cause none of us are eight, Bren," Ryan cuts in. Brendon glares at him for a moment.

"No, but Spencer's nine," he argues, only to get a glare from Spencer.

"I might. Lemme ask my mom if I can go to your place, kay?" Pete's not sure if he's going to make it through the day, let alone to Saturday. Patrick's wording had given the sense that he only has till recess to live.

Pete swallows the hard lump in his throat when the bell rings for recess.

*

Patrick's sitting all alone in the middlemost swing of the abandoned swingset by the huge, old oak tree during recess. He's staring at the sand beneath him, tracing abstract patterns into it with the toe of his shoe. He'd already put his hat on, something old and worn with very little decoration, and it's hiding his eyes.

It's hard to tell what he's thinking about. But today, he's thinking about his doomed classmate.
That news was the worst to deal. Patrick wasn't very emotional outwardly, but inside he had been freaking out. One of his classmates, another ten or eleven year old (he didn't know Pete very well) like him, fated to die. He really hates his visions sometimes, especially times like then when he had to deliver a death sentence to someone he doesn't know.

There's a shadow over the spot that Patrick is staring at, and he knows that it can't be his because the sun isn't shining that way. When he cautiously looks up to see who has joined him over in the quietest corner of the playground, he's surprised to see the shadowed face of Pete Wentz looking at him.

"Hi," Pete says. "Do you mind if I take the swing next to you?" Patrick just shakes his head. Pete sits down next to him, on the swing closest to the tree, and swings a couple of times, half-heartedly. "Are you sure I'm gonna die today?" he asks, after a few moments of silence.

Patrick looks up and over at Pete, and he nods. Pete looks away, the sand drawing his attention.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry," Patrick whispers. As if that would be any consolation to the boy siting next to him. Recess is half over and Patrick has a feeling that whatever is going to kill Pete is about to strike.

Pete's silent for a few minutes, staring at the sand. Wind blows some of his shaggy, dark hair into his face. The wind had been getting stronger throughout the day. "Kinda windy, isn't it?" he asks, trying to muster up a smile for Patrick.

The wind pushes harder than it ever has before and there's a creaking right above Pete and Patrick. It gusts again, a tremendous gale that neither of them have ever encountered in their short lives. The creaking grows louder and Patrick looks up, seeing a couple of the heavy branches hanging above Pete shaking pretty badly. If the wind gets any stronger...
And it does.

So Patrick does the first thing he can think of, which isn't to warn Pete that branches are about to fall on and kill him. Words aren't his strong suit. He stands up and, just as the wind gusts again, one more time, pushes Pete roughly out of his swing seat. The branches creak louder than ever and then they crack, falling just as Patrick scrambles to get away. They knock him down, his legs disappearing underneath the thick, dark leaves and he lets out a sharp cry.

Pete's torn between thinking that Patrick just saved his life and that the scream was the loudest thing he'd ever heard out of Patrick. So, instead, he gapes at the short, pale kid pinned to the sand by tree branches. "I think you just saved my life!" he says.

"I think I did, too," Patrick answers, letting only a little bit of his pain into his voice. Pete just now realizes that the branches instead fell on Patrick and kneels next to him.

"A-are you okay?" he asks, looking behind him and seeing a couple of the yard monitors running over to them.

Patrick nods, squeezing his eyes in pain. "I think one of my legs is broken. My ankle might be sprained."

"Thanks," is all that Pete has time to say before Patrick is surrounded by monitors and the nurse is called. When he's noticed, Pete's escorted away by a teacher he doesn't know who asks him too many questions. He's vague with answers, and he doesn't mention Patrick's prediction. The closest that Pete comes to that is saying that he thinks that Patrick saved his life.

*

The first day that Patrick's back at school, his right leg is in a cast and his left ankle is wrapped up in an Ace bandage. At lunch, Pete brings him to the lunch table and introduces him to all of his friends, calling Patrick the guy who saved his life.

"I told you he's not an alien!" Ryan announces later, when he and Pete are alone. Pete just rolls his eyes and doesn't bother correcting him.

After school, Pete invites Patrick over to his house. He politely declines and says that he'll ask his parents if he can go to Pete's over the weekend, though. Pete's glad to be alive, and Patrick's glad that he--finally--has a real friend.