Part 3

A vibration in her pocket snapped Penelope’s perfect hair from Sage’s mind. Rhett. She slid her phone out, but it was Mira’s rather than her brother’s name on the screen. Tucking the phone between her knees, Sage glanced at Mr. Stelter and clicked the message.

A news article sat heavy on the screen and flaunted an image of their school, police cars everywhere, cops with helmets and face shields captured mid-run, massive guns held to their bodies.

North Shore High School in Late-Day Lockdown

The story was filled with fear-inducing dramatic fluff amid quotes from terrified parents. Sage skimmed it again, but there was no indication of why they were in lockdown.

She rested her head on her knees and stared at the floor – grey-white with red and blue specks, polished until it was shiny but shrouded in the shadow of her body. As Sage connected the specks into pictures, a tingling sensation in her hip worked its way down her thigh, and the muscle began to seize. The cramp intensified and the tingling faded to numbness. Wincing, Sage extended her leg a few inches until the floppy rubber of her shoe brushed Penelope’s shirt. After a few restrained leg wiggles and twists, the cramp released its grip.

“Mr. Stelter, can I go to the washroom?” Josh’s head had popped up from the cluster, his mop of hair falling into desperate eyes.

“We can’t leave,” Mr. Stelter whispered. “You’ll have to hold it.”

Carter elbowed Josh but they hadn’t snickered in at least 20 minutes. Or was it 30… or 100…

Sage’s gaze drifted over her classmates. Some stared forward, a few were whispering. A girl with black lipstick hugged her knees the same way Sage did; her eyes were wet and rimmed in red.

“Hands up! Drop your weapon.”

Sage turned toward the door as a voice boomed through it.

“On the ground!”

The crash of something hitting a locker sliced the air. “Down! Now!”

Another crash, another thump. More boots. A rapid rattling rang through the space and Sage’s eyes locked on the twitching doorknob. Something crashed against the door and the teens flinched in unison.

“Hands where we can see them!”

Penelope’s head was buried in a boy’s chest and a whimper rose from the middle of the group. Carter bubbled out subdued sobs. A siren wailed as though it was the background symphony for an absurd play in the halls of Sage’s school.

Sage grabbed her phone and found her mom. Fighting through shaky hands, Sage delivered her words:

thers aschool shootr. im scraed. i luv uou mommy

Her breath lurched and spilled in disarrayed patterns and the tears that had been hovering poured down her face. She forced herself to take four deep breaths the way her dad had taught her.

The school was holding its breath. The hallway had grown silent. Sage clutched her stomach. “Police got him,” she murmured, nodding. “It’s over. We can go home.”

On the other side of the group, Carter stood up, then Josh. A few other students got to their feet.

“Sit down,” Mr. Stelter said. “Until we hear an official announcement.”

“But we heard the cops take someone down,” Josh said as he stepped over peers. “It’s almost over. I’m just getting my stuff so I can make the next bus.”

Mr. Stelter stood like a barrier. “Down. Now.”

The intercom clicked over their heads like a god ready to deliver a message of salvation. “This school is still under lockdown. Remain in your classroom. Follow all lockdown procedures. Repeat: This school is still under lockdown.”

Sage squeezed her phone to her chest, hugging all the beautiful people on the other end of it while fighting against sobs and screams that were clawing to burst out. As though feeling her ache, Sage’s phone buzzed against her heart.

Mira’s words filled the screen with half a dozen messages and a screenshot stolen from a social media site. Police surrounded their school like bees swarming a hive, and they held back parents using giant shields. Was that Brooklyn’s mom? Where was her mom?

She checked her message to Rhett. Nothing.

You ok? Just tell me you’re ok

Another image from Mira invaded her screen. A kid was lying on a stretcher, blood running down his face as he brandished an anguished expression, his arm extended to capture the selfie. Sage furrowed her brow and searched for bullet holes on the kid’s chest. Her fingers flew over her phone.

Was this kid shot at our school?

A banging at the door froze everyone in place. Carter dropped back to the floor as though shot. Josh, turned to stone, stayed on his feet.

“This is Constable Cox. Open the door.”

Mr. Stelter was a statue.

“Police. Open up.”

Jostled into action, Mr. Stelter motioned for the class to stay put as though they were dogs, then turned to the door.

“What if it’s a trick, Mr. Stelter?”