If I Knew

3 minutes before a nuclear bomb would hit Greenwith Highschool, reducing it to nothing more than a barren wasteland. It’s only fitting that our final minutes of life were spent in a maths classroom; a sample of the hell that awaited many of us in the afterlife.

“What’s interesting about calculus is that the function…” Mr Brower explained, sending half of the class to their pillowy elbows and desks. I sat at the very back of the classroom, quietly doodling in the margin of my page and fighting the magnetic seduction of sleep. If I knew it would all come to an end, I would have told Mr Brower that despite our lack of enthusiasm, he really was a good teacher.

“Excuse me, sir!” A voice piped up from the front row, eagerly waving for attention.

“Yes… Ms Walters,” Mr Brower sighed, dreading the onslaught of irritating corrections and useless facts. Victoria Walters was the class know-it-all, taking much pleasure in shaming others for their lack of comprehension. All her petty satisfaction meant nothing in the end.

“Well, isn’t it that the inverse process of differentiating, known as integr—”

“Oh, sir! Excuse me, sir,” Joey imitated, madly flapping his hand in the air. “Honestly, no one gives a crap about your stupid facts.” Joey was a baseball player. Not the brightest tool in the shed but a tool nonetheless; something I would have told him if I knew we’d all be dead before he could beat me to a pulp.

“Joey! I’ll have none of that flowery language in my classroom,” Mr Brower policed, shooting him a stern look.

“That’s okay sir. Someone who adopts such uncouth behaviour is clearly of a lower intellect.” Victoria fired back, flicking her hair like Beth Stewarts; the popular girl she secretly aspired to be. But what use is popularity when a nuclear bomb is headed your way?

“Woah, chill out Vicky,” Noah calmed, bringing his hands into prayer position, “we’re all here to learn and grow as individuals.” Everyone went silent. Maybe I would have told Noah that he could do all the drugs he wanted if I knew it wasn’t the weed that would kill him.

2 minutes left of life and we were none the wiser.

“Um… thank you… Noah,” Mr Brower stumbled, stunned at this suspicious maturity.

“Oh, come on, he’s clearly high” Lucy pointed out, lackadaisically gesturing to the blank-faced and red-eyed Noah, palms still together. If I had more time, I would have liked to see what she was like without all those piercings and black makeup.

“And the academy award for motht obviouth comment goeth to… drum roll pleath… little mith goth herthelf, Luthy Gray.” One day I’d defend Brad against the bullies. Unfortunately, I’d run out of time.

“Please, settle down everyo—” Mr Brower attempted, only to be drowned out by another eager voice from the third row.

“We get it Brad, you do theatre,” Sarah retorted, checking her makeup and tilting her bag so everyone could see the designer label. No matter how rich her parents were, no amount of money could buy her brains smart enough to contemplate our impending doom.

“At leatht I can thpell theatre.”

“Yeah, but you can’t thay it properly, can you?” The class erupted into laughter as Brad sunk back into his seat. I must admit, it was nice to have a laugh before the end of the world. Well, at least the end of my world.

1 minute before impact.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Mr Brower bellowed, silencing the horde of teenagers. He’s never raised his voice before. It seems only fitting that such an out of character behaviour came but seconds before the end.

Oh, the things I would have said and done. I would have lived more of life, told Cathy from home-ec that her casserole was vomit-inducing, taken up martial arts and wipe the floor with Bill and his goons, or mustered up the courage to ask Charlie out on a date.

If only I knew how different life could have been. If only I knew that things wouldn’t go out with a fizzle, but a deafening and resounding…

BOOM