Power Tools

Felix held the scissors in his hand. These weren’t safety scissors. They came from the teacher’s desk. Felix knew they were sharp. In the wrong hands, they could be a dangerous weapon. But in his hands, only righteous work could be done. 

Felix moved across the classroom carefully, locating his target. Her name was Marissa. She towered over all the boys in class. She bragged she was slated to be 6’1”. She wanted to be a dancer and a programmer. She wanted to go to Stanford. She was a dreamer. She was everything Felix was not.

But Felix felt, for the first time in his life, he could take everything back. He could set the expectations for life. He knew her future wasn’t that bright. No one’s life was bright in Felix’s eyes. He’d seen his brother drop out of school, move home, become a two-bit stoner with an Adderal addiction. Felix knew life wasn’t about getting ahead. It was about getting by and making sure everyone just got by. If someone reached too far, grasped for fruit on a limb just out of reach, and fell...well, that would be a tragedy. Many people remember the one who got the fruit, and they forget the bodies they stood on to finally touch the sweet skin.

Felix’s hands gripped the scissors, ready to slice through anything in their way. He saw Marissa. Tunnel vision. Everything but Marissa was a blur. He moved on her. He grabbed her brown hair in his fist, holding the scissors in his opposite hand. 

“Whatcha doing, Marissa,” he said.