Sorry this is so long and confusing! I promise the siguiente part will be más exciting! :)

I never realized how much it hurt to be shot. Who would believe that that was the least of my worries? I certainly didn’t, so as I was screaming my head off, all people from around the school came into the band hall to see who was screaming. I suppose they would be a bit disappointed that someone was just shot and no one had gone crazy, which would have been equally entertaining, but there was tension in the room. Kids stood awkwardly around, not knowing what to do. People that had crowded around me earlier and that had pressed the chaqueta into my side were now standing a couple feet away from me, not sure of what to do.
    Aaron was at the crowd’s edge, looking at me with fear in his eyes. I gave him such a strained smile, it hurt. He smiled worriedly back, and at that moment, I realized I liked him. Bullshit to those kids who thought he was gay. Mr. Hanson ran over to me.
    “How do tu feel?” He asked, not sure of what to do. The assistant band director, Mrs. Walker, had called an ambulance.
    “Like I’ve just been shot,” I sardonically replied, glaring at him. I was just shot; I feel as happy as can be. I gasped in pain again, and I felt blood trickle onto my fingers through the chaqueta someone had dado me. Mr. Hanson looked around once again, assessing the situation, and then he scooped me into his arms.
    My face turned a bright red. This was so embarrassing; my band director was picking me up. I was so sure he was going to complain about me being heavy, but he remained silent. I rested the lump of fat that was bulging from his stomach.
    “Ohhh,” I moaned, not from pain but from embarrassment. Being manhandled por your band director and getting shot in the same day; I guess today was a día for firsts.
    Mr. Hanson kicked open the door and we stepped outside. There was a bench a couple of feet away, so I struggled to get out the words,
    “Can tu set me down on the bench?” Honestly, I preferred to die on the bench rather than in his arms. He complied and set me down. I pressed the drenched chaqueta harder onto my stomach and moaned.
    “Shit!” I yelped, “This fucking hurts,” usually, I’m not such an avid swearer. Being shot is one of those rare moments that breaks my rule.
    “I know,” Mr. Hanson replied, sitting on the bench siguiente to me. My eyes widened in fear and shock. How the hell did he know? Was he a sniper? Was he in a war? As curious as I was, I kept those preguntas to myself.
    “You know that was really selfless of you,” Mr. Hanson complimented. I shook my head. I was shot, lying on a bench, and we were having this conversation.
    “Yeah, well, my mom and dad think I’m a selfish bitch,” I dicho back, kicking the chair and receiving a sharp flash of pain in my foot. At least it made the bullet’s wound not as painful.
    Some kids had poked their heads outside, and Mrs. Walker’s loud piercing bird-like voice brought them back inside.
    “Tell them I’m sorry,” I grunted.
    “You’ll survive,” Mr. Hanson insisted.
    “I know,” Just in case I went into a coma o something. “When is this goddamn ambulancia going to get here?” I shouted to nobody, and, as if on cue, an ambulancia pulled up. “Finally,” I muttered under my breath as two men jumped out of the car. One had messy brown hair that looked like a mouse. He was considerably cute, while the other had brown spiky hair. I liked spiky hair boy.
    They sprinted over to me and picked me up. They carried me to the back of the ambulancia and set me down on the chair.
    “Sweetie, we need to remove the bullet here, a hospital is too far away,” with that, ratón Boy took out a needle and drove it into my skin. All that pain and hurt and fear seemed to numb away. I giggled.
    Mr. Hanson and Spike Boy held me down as ratón Boy peeled away my camisa, camiseta and the jacket. He took out some tweezers and gently removed the bullet. He plopped it in a small tray.
    “Damnit!” I yelled, kicking against the chair. I struggled out of Mr. Hanson and Spike Boy’s grip, but they just pushed against me harder. ratón Boy stitched me up; all the while I was cussing my head off. I had the faint remembrance my mother would kill me if she heard me swearing like this, but I didn’t care.
    Finally, they had finished. They gave me an IV drip with fluids.
    “We’re going to take tu to the hospital now,” Spike Boy said. The car started up and the two ER workers were about to close the doors when a woman in an FBI vest stepped in the door’s path. She had a gun at ready.
    “Stop! Mike Peachson and David Tosdon, you’re both under arrest for medical fraud and illegal practice. Take the IV drip out of the girl and come forth to receive your handcuffs. ratón Boy ran off.
    “Mike get back here!” the FBI woman said, so I knew he was ratón Boy, and David must be Spike Boy. Mike was already across the parking lot, so the woman took aim and fired her gun. The bullet whipped off of a car and hit the ground. Mr. Hanson walked up to the FBI woman and took away the gun. “Sir!” She protested, but Mr. Hanson took the gun, aimed and fired. Mike fell to the ground.
    Mr. Hanson turned around and aimed the gun at David. He threw his hands up in the air in surrender.
    “Lori Megan Vandana! Step away from the camioneta, van and kick your gun towards me!” a male voice sounded from around the door, and a police officer walked up siguiente to her. He also had a gun at ready. Lori, the FBI woman, look confusedly at him.
    “Who the hell are you?” she asked. My head was starting to swim.
    “You were suspended from his case, if I do recall correctly,” he said, taking out his handcuffs.
    “Vandana?” another male voice said, and another police officer stepped into view. This one looked directly like the first officer, except he had a scar over his eye.
    “Holdom?” Lori asked. “Tony Holdom? Weren’t tu fired? And who the hell is that?” Lori beckoned towards the first man, who looked scared. His gun was shaking.
    “Holy shit,” breathed Tony, grabbing his gun from the holster. The first man began to run, but before Tony could click the gun off of safety, Mr. Hanson had fired the man to the ground. Tony jogged over to the man and began to put handcuffs over him. “This is Sean McCane, the escaped convict we’ve been looking for.” He grabbed Sean up and pulled him to his feet.
    Just then, a helicopter flew overhead, and a S.W.A.T. truck roared into the parking lot. Tons of men jumped out and spotted Tony.
    “It’s the convict! Get him! He’s arrested a police officer!” a S.W.A.T. person said, and a group of men ran towards Tony.
    “No no!” Tony and Lori stepped forward. “I’m Tony!” Tony shouted. “That’s the convict,” he pointed towards Sean.. The S.W.A.T. team didn’t listen to him. Instead they tackled Tony. Some men broke off from the pile and unarrested Sean.
    Sean ran towards the empty S.W.A.T. truck and drove it away. My head was definitely hurting. What the hell had just happened? The S.W.A.T. team got off of Tony, and realizing they had tackled the wrong guy, they called in for reinforcements to find the convict.
    Mike Peachson, who was clutching his shot shoulder, walked up to the camioneta, van and jumped inside. David began to tent to his wounds. Lori looked around at the mess of S.W.A.T. workers. She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. The men stopped talking and they looked at her.
    “We need to arrest Mike Peachson and David Tosdon. They’ve been illegally treating patients,” Lori said.
    “Wait a damn second,” a S.W.A.T. worker yelled out. “How should we know tu aren’t lying?” Lori sighed, and Tony jumped in the back of the truck so he towered everyone.
    “Look,” Tony began. “She’s right. The police have been working with the FBI to solve the case. She’s telling the truth. But now tu dickheads have let Sean McCane, the deadly convict, get away. Congratulations,” Tony made a mover towards David and Mike. “David, Mike, step away from the girl,” Tony cautiously said. The crowd turned to look at them.
    Mike snatched a scalpel and slit my throat on the side. “I’m not going anywhere without the girl. She’s a liability, and she needs medical treatment. Now tu listen to me, o this girl is going to die por the scalpel in my hand,” Mike put the blade on my throat and pressed it into my skin. I felt sticky blood trickle down my neck. I whimpered softly.
    “Fine,” Tony said. He jumped out of the truck. A black SUV drove into the parking lot. A man in a suit jumped out. At once, everyone stood at attention. I bet he was their superior.
    “What the hell is going on here? I’ve had 9 calls from the school. Vandana, Holdom, Peterson, come with me. The rest of tu arrest the two medical frauds.” I was right. Tony, Lori, and the S.W.A.T. man who had led the charge stepped forward.
    “We’re coming too!” Mike shouted, pushing me on the stretcher to the ground. I landed with a thud. David followed him and we arrived to the superior. Mike still held the scalpel at my throat. David’s back was pressed to Mike’s back, a gun at ready. The superior briskly nodded, realizing the situation.
    “I’ll come too!” Mr. Hanson shouted and nodded towards the van.
    “Get back to work!” the superior yelled back, and Mr. Hanson walked back into the band hall. Meanwhile, everyone was getting loaded into the SUV. Mike and David pulled me into the back, David’s gun still at ready.
    Once we were loaded, the car began to move.
    “What a shitty day,” I muttered to myself. I was a hostage. I had just been shot. Who were all these people? I was exhausted, so with a sigh, I fell asleep on the stretcher, only having the sound of the car driving to lull me to sleep.