Now I'm at school and a juvenile delinquent boy is harassing me and my girlfriends. I say, "Just ignore him!" I hope he doesn't get us in trouble. He's talking about us going off together for a trip, him because he's in trouble with the law and has to skip, me as a cover or hostage, only he also likes me. I simply refuse. I get my books and hope to escape from him, but he follows. Now I'm in my home and walking down the hall to the back porch. I'm worried there are police out there and he'll get hurt, but also leading him out there so he'll get captured and leave me alone. I get there and the police are lined up in the bushes. They question me and my girlfriends. Did I know him? Did I talk to him today? Where is he? The girls lie, I hesitate, put on the spot between protecting and honesty. I choose to give true info but in a way that doesn't hurt him. Then he just steps out there on the porch and talks to me about leaving now. (He's somehow making it clear to the police I'm not a willing party to this.) He then says, "I'm just going to leave now," and steps off the porch and goes around the police and off down the road. I wait, worried. I know they'll kill him. Then we all hear a barrage of gun fire and then silence. I know he's dead and I start to wail my grief. My father comes up and tells me to go inside and I cry out, "It's your fault. I hold you to blame." Then someone yells, "Fire, the house is on fire." I see flames and I run into the house to get my things that he gave me to remember him by, even though the smoke chokes me. I get everything, a diary, a purse, some books, and then I run out to safety.