The sound was sickeningly sharp. A crack that seemed to split the world in two.
White-hot sparks exploded behind my eyes. The empanada slipped from my fingers. I tried to stand, tried to catch myself on the edge of the table, but my legs weren't there anymore.
The floor rushed up to meet me.
The mess David promised you'd become,his voice whispered.
Then everything went dark.
I came back slowly.
The world arrived in pieces: the smell of something clean and woodsy, cedar maybe, or smoke. The sensation of floating.A steady warmth against my back, my shoulder, the side of my face.
I wasn't on the linoleum anymore. I was being cradled in the massive arms of a firefighter, and everyone in the lounge was staring down at me.
"Can you tell me your name?" His voice was deep and steady. I felt it vibrate through his chest and into mine. "Do you know where you are?"
His face swam into view above me: sandy blond hair, a strong jaw, blue eyes bright with focus. A small scar cut through his left eyebrow. He was holding me like I weighed nothing, one arm supporting my back, the other under my head.
"Maya Cummins," I managed. My voice came out strange.
"Good. That's good." He shifted me slightly, adjusting his grip without jostling my head. "You're in the teacher's lounge at P.S. 147. You took a hit to the temple. Do you remember what happened?"
The cabinet door. Mrs. Patterson's careless swing. The crack of wood against bone.
"Cabinet," I said. "She didn't look."
"Yeah, I saw." Something flickered in his expression. "Can you tell me what day it is?"
"Wednesday."
"Who's the president?"
I told him. He nodded, satisfied.
Around us, the lounge had erupted into whispers. I could hear them like static, fragments cutting through the fog in my head.
"Oh my god, is that?—"
"It's him. It's definitely him."
Apparently, he was famous in our town, and I heard the teachers whispering his name as he lifted me off the floor.
"Shane Briggs," someone breathed.“The one from the video… and the calendar.”
The name floated past me. I didn’t follow local celebrity gossip on social media. Between lesson plans, grading, and keeping a teenager alive, I barely had time to watch the news.
He lifted me, rose to his feet with me still in his arms, and I should have protested, should have insisted I could walk, but my legs didn’t feel like mine anymore
"That's probably the closest she's been to a man since her divorce." I heard Mrs. Patterson say.
The words cut through the fog like a knife.
I flinched. Heat flooded my face as shame and anger tangled together in my chest.
Too much work,David's voice echoed again.Too much mess.
Mrs. Patterson was still laughing, that high, brittle sound she made when she knew she’d landed a hit. The other teachers were watching, waiting, ready to see what I’d do.
