Assembly

Every Thursday morning there was a stampede to the assembly hall. The Thursday assembly was always long and boring, and if you didn't get in quick to claim a chair you had to endure it on the hot, hardwood floor.

In the fight for a sacred seat, anything could happen. Football players would quail before the adrenaline-fuelled fury of a tabletop gamer; normally soft-spoken girls were transformed into beasts of fire that would rip out your throat without a thought; teachers who knew better than to get involved placed bets, and the rest got trampled. There were no friends or enemies in the melee, only you and not you, and if someone was gonna get hurt, well… make sure it was not you.

Today's fight promised to be especially vicious. Not only was it a blistering hot day, but they had been told to prepare for a "very special" assembly. That could mean anything from a guest speaker to a rant about budget cuts. The one thing that was certain was that it would be twice as long as usual.

The signal was the bell. Some students, novices mostly, would break early to try and get to the hall uncontested. This failed for two reasons. First, until the bell went the teachers still had some semblance of control. They could shut down one or two students easily enough. Second, it made you a target. The doors were only unlocked a few moments after the bell went, and by then the first wave would be upon you. You might just barely be first in the hall, but you'd never make it to a seat.

Sean drummed his fingers on his leg. It was a trick he'd learnt years ago. Before, his hands would shake so much in the build up that by the time the bell went he'd be almost paralysed. Drumming his fingers kept his hands free and his mind slightly distracted. He was ready. He had come a long way from the fresh-faced kid who had politely held the door open for the other students on his first Thursday assembly. He was now a senior and, more importantly, the new juniors would be unprepared for the bloodlust.

Sean slowly began to edge towards the hall. From this point on, all friends and promises were forgotten. Around him, a hundred seniors were doing the same, eyeing each other suspiciously. A heavy hush fell over the yard.

This was the stage that many dropped out. The atmosphere was suffocating, and already he could see pockets of students collapsing under the weight of it, breaking into nervous conversation and brittle laughter. They had lost already. They would make jokes amongst themselves and try to pretend that they were better than the mob, but in the end they would walk meekly into the hall and sit on the floor right at the front. It was the coward's spot. Others further back might still be sitting on the floor, but at least they had tried.

The signal was the bell, but the trick was not to wait for the sound of the bell. A moment before the bell rang, the small green light on the speaker would light up. That was when you went.

The light blinked on, and Sean sprinted forward. He never even heard the bell. Behind him, a hundred spring-loaded bodies exploded into action. He had a slight advantage in that he had begun closest to the hall, but this didn't mean a seat was assured. Already the horde was approaching, a bloody, screaming tsunami. Sean glanced at it over his shoulder, and in an instant he was swept into the wave. A rookie mistake.

Any sense of self Sean had was lost in the wave. A primordial instinct took control of his body, as it had done time immemorial for men and women on the brink of a sudden, violent end. I am not going to die here! his mind screamed.

He began scratching, kicking, punching his way through the wave. He raked his nails across girls' faces; he jabbed viciously at guys' crotches; he bit anything that came between his teeth. In this fight, there was no taboo.

---

When the madness had left him, Sean was surprised to find himself in a seat. He was near the back, so he had been among the first to claim a seat. He couldn't recall the battle, but he knew he had fought well. He was covered in blood, some of it his, and he suspected his nose was broken... but he had a seat.

As the battle raged over the last of the seats, Sean began chatting with his neighbours; whatever damage they had dealt each other stayed in the fog of war. They each had seats: there was no animosity.

Soon there was only one seat left. Sean watched in optimism, hoping for the bottleneck. It was rare, but when it happened it was always inspiring. The sight of the final chair filled the last of the fighters with renewed rage and, in an effort to force themselves toward the seat, they would become stuck in the doorway, a traffic-jam of bloody bodies.

It happened now. The day had promised a memorable fight, and truly it did not disappoint. A soft murmur rose among the seated as battle-scarred veterans took up a running commentary on the fight.

"Oh, she hesitated for a fraction of a second on that nipple-twist. That'll cost her. See? See that? She lost her advantage, she's out."

"Ha! See that bite? Beautiful! Perfectly time from maximum impact. The enemy is stunned, and now she's out. Now that's a man's man."

"He probably should have gone for the eyes there. He went for the jugular, which is always good if you can pierce it. The eyes are always the sure bet."

Sean leaned forward; the bottleneck was near breaking point, anyone could see it. Suddenly, a lone figure, drenched in blood and of unidentifiable age or gender, burst from the pack and claimed the last seat.

The first few rows stopped dead, the fight gone out of them. Sean gasped at this beginner's mistake. Unlike the first rows, the back rows couldn't see that the fight was over and would continue to fight with insane ferocity. The now lifeless front rows were vulnerable to the force of the back and were sure to be overwhelmed!

The front rows began to quiver. Soon the first person would fall, then the next, and the next, until they all came down like a house of cards and were trampled in the stampede. Sean wanted to shield his eyes, but some macabre fascination kept him watching. Who would be the first to fall?

Then he spotted her. A junior, weak from battle, stood leaning against the doorframe for support, knees shaking. As though in slow motion, the girl pitched forward. This was it, she was the first! Eventually the carnage would stall, but not until after the girl and dozens like her had been destroyed.

But no! Just as she was to hit the floor, Sean saw something he had never expected to see at a Thursday assembly slaughter; a fighter who had already gloriously claimed a seat leapt out of it, diving forward to catch the girl.

As he gathered her in his arms, the hall was gripped in silence. Somehow even the back rows had learned of this… this… impossibility. All the fight had gone out of the wave and every student remained still. All stared at the boy, the boy who had leapt from the precious seat for the sake of a fellow pupil.

Truly, this was heroism. Even as he was witness to it, Sean knew it was something rare and monumental, something he would be telling his grandchildren when he was an old, old man. Somewhere nearby, a smattering of applause broke out. The noise spread through the student body like lice and soon a thunder of cheering washed over the rescuer and the rescued. Those at the back like Sean, who were well away from the still-standing horde, even rose from their seats in a standing ovation. As the boy – nay, the legend – turned to address the gathering, a hush came over the hall. He took a deep breath, opened his mouth and –

"Please be seated." The principal's voice echoed through the hall. The boy froze. The wave began to rumble again, and even the neophytes could see the battle was not over yet.

Suddenly, the rescued girl whirled toward the boy, forcing her knee heavily into his crotch. As he doubled over, she knocked him bodily into the path of the once more ferocious wave. As they trampled over him, the girl darted away and claimed her erstwhile saviour's seat.

As the wave broke and those still standing begrudgingly dispersed to find a seat on the hardwood, the body of the five-second hero was revealed. It was broken and bloody and so grotesquely deformed as to be almost unrecognisable.

Sean turned to look at the girl who had so heartlessly and viciously betrayed the man who had risked his life and seat to save her. There she sat, cold and proud, a cunning, deceitful witch.

He was in love.