I walked down the tile floor hallways, wall to wall with blue lockers. Every ten to twenty feet there would be a door with a rectangle window that looked into a classroom. They sit there and watch as a person is paid to explain useless information to them. Their minds run dry and try to cure their thirst with chaos. Once they leave their little rooms, they pour into the halls and begin searching for it. I knew they would not be thirsty for much longer. I had all the chaos they needed, hanging over my back. Just as I would be filling their thirst, I would be filling my own as well. I didn't crave chaos though, I craved release. Release from this cruel world, release from these cruel people, release from this damn school.
I finally reach my 'cell block' about half way down the main hallway. I creak the door open, as if to have some sort of respect for what was going on inside the classroom. I poked my head inside and my body followed close behind.
"Mr. Patrick's do you have a note?" Mrs. Creeth asked as I turned to shut the door. I lifted the note out of my pocket and went to hand it to her. She looked at my hand and didn't move. "Do you have a note for being tardy to class?" She repeated, gesturing with her eyes for me to give her verbal confirmation.
"Yes ma'am." I said, lifting the note higher for her to retrieve it. She was my height but I felt like if I put it closer to her face she would have more initiative to take it from me. She snatched it away and looked it over, then cocked her head for me to sit down.
I felt the eyes of the kids around me, staring with judgement. Like they knew all of my sins and mistakes and were mocking me for it.
I sat down in the back of the room, where I always sat, and kept my bag close to my legs. The teacher went on talking to students and discussing their personal lives like they were buddies with no forty year age difference. I sat silently in wait for the actual class to start. After about 5 minutes she began speaking loudly so that we could all hear her. I had my head buried in my arms on my desk, thinking over the plan again and again.
"Today is presentation day. Hopefully you completed your presentations either online or by writing down the facts for me to grade." She began explaining. "Who wants to go first?" No one replied. No hands were raised. The teacher frowned. "Alright then, we will go alphabetical." She pulled out her student name sheet from a file filled drawer on her desk in the corner of the classroom. Faster than I could respond, people began going up and presenting. I tried to breathe slowly. Excitement and fear filled my body. I tried to focus on the presentations to calm myself. First was a larger boy named Anthony, who had only just started his presentation the night prior. He began improving almost a quarter into presenting. Everyone laughed but me. Next was Bethany Ruth, a blonde headed beauty. She was always really well spoken and had almost all the answers to Mrs. Creaths questions. She had her presentation ready to go, and was swift. I was actually able to tell what the presentation was about, since poor Anthony was so confused. She spoke about the ghettos and poor houses that were over flowing during the Great Depression. She didn't try to win sympathy, just listed all the facts and ended it.
Kids continued to present one after another and the list crept closer and closer to my name. I wasn't the last but I was close. Four people had names behind me alphabetically. Four people would never present. Once again I found myself hypnotized with anxiety for the events that would soon unravel before myself and this classroom.
"Hunter Patrick's?" The teacher announced like a question. I jumped from my seat. I had lost focus again. I stood and swung my bag over one shoulder. I felt everyone's eyes on me, except this time I wasn't being humiliated. I smiled as I walked to the front of the class room. I faced my audience and sat my bag at my feet. I looked at the teacher, who gave me a nod gesturing that I should begin. I smiled and looked back to my peers.
"I did my presentation over the 'Roaring Twenties'. A time period in America where it seemed everyone was rich and happy." As I spoke I bent down to my bag. I slid my zipper open slowly, feeling everyone's eyes. In the front row sat Bethany Ruth, who seemed really interested in what I had to say. She smiled at me like we were equals, a look I don't get often from anyone. For a split second it put me out of focus. I tried not to focus on what a shame it would be, having her die for the mistakes made by others. The mistake to piss me off. "It really was a shame." I said sliding my hand to the bottom of the bag. "It all had to end so quickly." I wrapped my hand around the pistol and felt my finger stroke the trigger.
Suddenly an announcement rang through the ceilings speakers, interrupting my shining moment.
"ALL CLASS ROOMS REMAIN CALM AS WE TRANSITION INTO A HARD LOCK DOWN. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I REPEAT, ALL CLASS ROOMS REMAIN CALM AS WE TRANSITION INTO A HARD LOCK DOWN."
I froze in place, staring at the speakers. My hand was still wrapped around the weapon in my bag.
"Okay everyone, like we practiced! I'll turn the lights off and we will all go into the storage closet in the back of the room! Hurry!" Mrs. Creath quietly shouted. I was still frozen. My mind was racing. How did they find out? Did someone give them a tip? Was it mom? I didn't even technically do anything yet!
I was petrified. I was waiting for someone to tackle me, or just beat my face in.
"Hunter! Come on buddy we can finish your presentation another day! Let's just get into our lock down positions!" She was waving me to come to her. I dropped the pistol back into the bottom of my bag and zipped it up tightly. I quickly jogged to the hiding closet everyone was in. I didn't understand what was happening, but for some reason they didn't know it was me, that I was the active shooter. So I squeezed myself into the walk in closet with the rest of the class and waited for a swat team to come retrieve me.