ALEXIA'S POV
"AAAAAH!"
The ear-piercing scream shattered my peaceful lunchtime, making me instinctively duck under the table like I was in a war zone. My half-eaten sandwich and juice bottle were clutched tightly in my hands, because priorities.
"Uh—what are you doing?" Lucy's voice came from under the table, her wide eyes blinking at me as she crouched to my level.
I took another bite of my sandwich and mumbled, "You screamed."
That was supposed to explain everything.
See, in my neighborhood growing up, when someone screamed, you didn't waste time asking questions. You either ducked, hid, or ran.
Option one: Duck—because chances were someone had thrown something, and you definitely didn't want to get hit.
Option two: Hide—because screaming usually meant the cops were raiding the area, and you didn't want to be caught up in whatever mess was happening.
