“Be nice, Sarah. People were horrible to her about it. Really cruel.” Then he took a deep breath and lightened his tone. “Anyway, you were definitely the one who told me about Jess’s running. I remember it distinctly.”
Sarah rolled her eyes at me. I smiled and then looked out at the field through the rain-smeared window. Mr. Matthews stood at the edge of the track, his clothes heavy with water. And while the rain fell too fast for me to be sure, and he began moving almost immediately after I saw him, it looked like he was staring at the car, watching me go.
He claims I was the one who started it. That I began smiling at him in a different way, moving closer and closer. That he tried to resist, but I made it too difficult.
It could be he’s right—that you can draw someone to you without realizing you’re doing it. I’m not sure, though, because looking back, I don’t think it even occurred to me that he was an option.
At least part of me was still good back then.
IN THE FALL, THE LOCKDOWN drill had taken place in the middle of fifth period. We’d all been informed about it ahead of time, so it had been no surprise when the announcement had come over the loudspeaker. My history teacher had dutifully locked the door, turned off the lights, closed the blinds, and motioned to us all to huddle behind our desks. None of us had bothered moving all that fast, not even the teacher, and we’d spent less than ten minutes sitting on the floor before we’d gotten the all clear. There had been no urgency, no realism—it had simply been an exercise in following basic protocol.
Apparently, the administration wanted to shake things up, because this time there was no warning, and the intercom came on during lunch, right after I’d tossed the remains of my food into the trash and headed into the hallway.
“This is a lockdown drill,” the principal said. “Please quickly proceed to the nearest location you can secure. This is a drill, but we ask that you take it very seriously.”
I looked around for Sarah, before remembering she’d gone to fill up her water bottle, leaving from a different exit. I studied the cafeteria, unsure whether I should go back in. Could it be secured? Probably, but I couldn’t tell if the doors locked. I swiveled around, searching for another location, even as other people swirled around me, making similar calculations. Then I spotted Brian and Charlie disappearing into the chemistry lab, so I started to make my way toward it, speeding up when Charlie began to pull the door shut behind him.
“Wait,” I called. “I’m coming.”
Charlie paused, leaving the door partway open. I ran the last few steps and slid inside the room.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Not a problem,” he said as he locked the door. “Get the lights.”
I found the switch on the wall and flicked it off.
Charlie stared at the door. “Why doesn’t this window have shades?” He turned and called out over his shoulder. “Brian, can you grab a couple of pieces of paper and some tape so we can cover the window? Right now, they could see right in.”
Brian walked over to the teacher’s desk, which was empty. Mr. Ryers must have still been at lunch.
There was a loud knock on the door. “Hey, open up.”
“Are you the shooter?” Charlie said, craning his head to the window. “Because if so, I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to let you in.”
“You can see me, Charlie,” the girl said. Her voice was familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. “You can see both of us. Let us in.”
“One of you could have a gun in your backpack,” he said. “Or a machete. I should probably leave you both out there. Better safe than sorry.”
“I promise that neither of us has a damn machete, all right? Let us in.” I placed the voice: Lauren. Lauren, in her natural state: pissed off.
“Let her in,” Brian said, walking over with the paper and a roll of tape. “She’s just going to keep knocking until you do.”
Charlie shrugged. “I was only looking out for you.” He unlocked the door and pulled it open.
Lauren threw Charlie an annoyed look as she walked into the dark room. Mona followed close behind her. She paused when she saw Brian, and for a second it looked like she might turn back. But Charlie was already locking the door again.
“You’re welcome,” Charlie called over his shoulder toward Lauren. “Please don’t murder us all now.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” Then she looked at Mona and followed her gaze to Brian. “Come on, Mona,” she said. “Let’s go to the back. This will be over in a couple of minutes.”
Brian continued to hold the paper, unmoving, as Lauren steered Mona firmly toward the back of the room.
Charlie shook his head, annoyed. “Brian, forget about that mess and bring over the damn paper,” he said. “I’m not interested in getting a lecture from my dad about how we screwed this up.”
Brian tore his gaze away from Mona. “Okay, I’m coming,” he said. He held the paper up against the glass with one hand and carefully taped it using the other. “There.”
“You should use a second sheet,” I said. “It’s thin paper. You can practically see through it.”
“One is fine,” Charlie said. “All that matters is that we covered it.”
Brian paused, the second sheet of paper in his hands, and that was when we all heard it. The sound of heavy footsteps coming down the empty hallway.
I crouched down against the wall, and Brian silently stepped away from the door, paper still in his hand, and crouched down beside me.
Walking, walking, stop. A pause, a sound of clicking, and then more walking. Doors: he was trying the doors. Last time, there had been yelling, the role of the active shooter played by a community theater volunteer relishing his moment in the spotlight, but
