Part 1

The minute hand lurched forward one notch, then stopped to catch its breath. Sage stared into the clock, willing time to keep marching.

“…and what do we do with the exponent?”

Sage blinked heavily and turned to Mr. Stelter. His marker flew across the whiteboard and filled the space with numbers, symbols, and arcing arrows. As he recited the laws of math, the giant maple outside the window waved. Its sun-dappled leaves danced as though enticing Sage from the tedium of the stale classroom. She could already feel the tug of the fluffy white pup on its leash as she and Mira traded gossip from the day.

“Attention please,” the principal’s voice boomed over the intercom, pulling Sage from the whisper of freedom. “This school is under lockdown. Stay in your classroom or go to the nearest safe area now. Follow all lockdown procedures. Repeat: This school is under lockdown.”

Mr. Stelter’s hand froze on the whiteboard, half a blue 8 left in waiting. A flash of adrenaline swept through Sage and she bolted upright. As though a switch had flipped in Mr. Stelter, he dropped the marker and marched out the door.

“Where did he go?” a voice at the back of the room said. “He’s not supposed to leave.”

As murmurs swelled to chatter, Mr. Stelter escorted three extra students into the room, closed the door, twisted the lock, and dropped the blinds, cutting any view of the hallway. He looked across the sea of faces. “You know what to do. Follow protocol and make space for these students.”

Desks scraped along the floor and the noise around the room ramped up. Sage looked to the desk beside her where a well-used copy of Math 10 lay open, waiting for Brooklyn’s return from the restroom. Her eyes flew to the door, locked and concealed from the outside world.

Voices rose above the chatter. “Why are they running a drill at the end of the day?”

“I bet there’s a bear or rabid dog outside so they can’t release us.”

“If I’m late for my movie, I’m going to scream.”

Sage headed for the back of the class, wading through the cacophony of questions and complaints. She sank to the floor; the cold linoleum sent goosebumps down her back. Kids pressed in and a foot knocked her knee as legs and bodies provided only glimpses of the emptying desks. The girl who always wore a crop top lingered cross-legged atop a desk while her friends crowded around her.

Sage gritted her teeth and stared into Mr. Stelter who looked just as lost as the students. “Is stay quiet and out of sight really that hard to understand?” she mumbled.

“Pardon?”

Sage turned to a girl whose knees were pulled up to her chest.

“It’s just…” Sage shook her head and shot a glare at the group. They laughed as they moseyed to the back of the room. “We’re supposed to stay quiet. That’s the whole point of a lockdown.”

The girl nodded and rested her forehead on her knees.

Overhead lights flicked off, one row at a time, and the blinds were drawn. The classroom plunged into greyness reminiscent of a mounting thunderstorm. A vibration against her thigh pulled Sage from her thoughts, and she slid her phone from her pocket to see a message from her mom.

Don’t forget you promised Doreen you’d walk her dog after school.

Josh’s distinctive, relaxed laugh bounced through the air and Sage looked up to see him push Carter into a desk, sending it careening into another desk. The crash of metal was a thunderclap in the mounting unease. Sage’s jaw tightened and she shoved her phone away. “I don’t need a stupid reminder,” she mumbled under her breath.

Penelope bumped Sage when she scooted back while other students hopped over each other as they tried to find a spot near a friend. “Lockdown protocols, gentlemen,” Mr. Stelter said and directed Josh and Carter to the space behind the divider. “Everyone get down and stay quiet.”

The students who, minutes before, were spread out in desks under bright lights and the promise of last-period bell were now jammed together like a cluster of grapes in a dark crate, backs curled over phones.

“And no phones. Put them on silent until we hear otherwise.”

One by one, phones dimmed and were tucked into pockets, placed on the floor, rested on laps. The rowdiness had settled out. Students adjusted themselves on the floor as stupid jokes, lockdown theories, and laughter flitted away.

Room 116 sat eerily quiet.