Chapter TwelveKami
No one could have imagined this would happen. Looking back, maybe I could have seen the signs or pinpointed the clues I had somehow managed to convince myself weren’t there. I hadn’t wanted to see them. Was it fear?
All I know is I did feel something strange that morning when I walked into school. Don’t ask me what it was, exactly; it was just something in the air. Call it intuition, a premonition, whatever, but when it happened my mind became awash in relief—not real relief, of course not, but I did feel like a weight had been lifted, as if the pressure I’d been feeling finally had somewhere to go. For weeks, I’d had the strange feeling that something was about to happen, and now I knew why. My brain had kept telling me to be on alert, that something was brewing in those hallways full of teenagers, those classrooms where everyone was pushing themselves to reach the goals society had imposed on us ever since we’d been old enough to talk:study, pass your exams, get into a good college, get a scholarship, study some more, become crippled with debt, study, work, pay off your loans, work some more, buy a house or an apartment or rent forever, find someone to love youand put up with you, have kids, work, save up so they can go to college, keep working,and so on.
From now until infinity.
A loud boom made the whole class jump in their seats.
I looked up from my final exam, along with all my classmates, and a shiver ran down my spine. It sounded like gunfire.
Then a second shot followed.
Then a third.
There was a silence that lasted for centuries. Then we heard the screams.
Mr. Dibet stood slowly. I had the urge to do the same. Stand up and run, except not a single muscle in my body reacted, and my classmates were paralyzed, too.
“Someone call 9-1-1,” our teacher said, walking toward the door. No one moved.
“What are you waiting for?” he insisted, and finally there was a slight commotion.
In a quivering voice, I responded, “Sir, none of us have our phones.”
Mr. Dibet stared at me in pure horror. Then the gun went off again, much closer this time, and I screamed.
“Everyone under your desks! Now!” the teacher ordered us.
We knew the drill, and no one spoke a word, though I could soon hear people whimpering. What were we supposed to do next? Shit, we’d been practicing the protocol for what to do in case of an active shooter ever since we were little, but were we prepared? The fact that it was really happening only reflected just how fucked up the world had become.
Run, hide, fight—that was the protocol, right? Or was it hide first? I looked left and saw Kate, horrified, trembling, hugging herself.
I wished I could say something to her, move to her and wrapmy arms around her, feel the warmth of someone who had been my friend since we were kids. It was true we weren’t talking anymore, but whatever had happened between us recently didn’t matter at that moment.
I heard her whisper something, but her words didn’t make any sense to me.
“This is my fault,” she said. “My fault.”
I squeezed my eyes shut when the next shot rang out. I covered my ears and started praying in silence.
Thiago.
Taylor.
Cameron. Oh my God, Cameron.
That was how the nightmare began.
* * *
The fire alarm rang through the halls, and I could barely hear the sound of the gunshots. Meanwhile, a voice came over the PA with instructions: “All students outside immediately!”
Through all the chaos and noise—how many times had the shooter fired?—I asked myself how many people might have died already, and how could this possibly be real? Mr. Dibet ordered us all to our feet and said, “We’ll walk out single file as quickly as possible. The nearest exit is just a few feet away. The police will be here soon. Let’s go!”
We all lined up at the door. When we opened it, what we saw outside was utter chaos.
People were running up and down the halls in terror, pushing past each other to reach the closest exit. And the same thing happened with my fellow students. As soon as the door opened, everyone started to run. Students behind me shoved me to the ground.
