• • •
CLAIRE
“We can’t get a clear picture of Tyler’s motivation, so we are looking for anyone who might know him well. We’ve sent a team to his house, but we are looking for a student perspective too,” Deputy Lee prods. He isn’t local, otherwise he’d know all of this.
“His sister’s a junior here,” Chris says after a moment. “Autumn’s a quiet girl, but everyone in Opportunity knows her. Everyone knows the Browne family. Their dad owns a store on Main.”
Deputy Lee looks from Chris to me and back. The deputy says, “Had Tyler not dropped out, he would have been a senior with you two.” There’s an unspoken question in his words, an understanding that we must know more about him.
I remain silent. It’s as though admitting we dated will make me responsible for what has happened today. Ty, whose beautiful smile once lit up my every day. He used to be hopeful. But right now, I can’t even remember him happy.
I guess I am responsible for this. In a way we all are. I have to speak up.
“Tyler used to be my boyfriend,” I manage at last. “Though I don’t know what I can tell you. We broke up at the end of school last year. We met here at school. We were working on a project together when he asked me out, and I liked being around him. He made me laugh. He made me feel like I mattered.”
One afternoon, he waited for me until JROTC was done. He sat on the hood of his car with a paper bag next to him. It almost looked as if he were bringing me lunch. But when he saw me, he jumped off the car and spread out the bag’s contents in the sun. Pewter figurines. Little bottles of paint. Brushes. He practically bounced. “I found these in town last week. I thought Matt might like to give it a try. You know, for his birthday.”
I was so happy, I could’ve kissed him then. In fact, I did.
“But his mom’s accident changed him. He was withdrawn. Grieving. He told me it felt like the world was crumbling around him. After his mom died, we only hung out at school or at my place. He seemed happier there. He loved being with Matt.”
I loved him… I think.
Deputy Lee stares at his clipboard. His expression doesn’t reveal his thoughts, but I feel my cheeks heat. Despite everything, I want to tell him this is not the Ty I knew.
Chris takes a subtle step closer until our shoulders touch.
“How long were you together?” the deputy asks.
“Two years.”
“Was he ever angry or violent with you?” His questions almost seem to follow a checklist: Signs of Irrational Behavior 101. “Do you know what upset him today?”
I wish I did.
Some fifteen feet away, people around the command center start shouting. When Deputy Lee turns up his radio to ask what is happening, the unmistakable sound of gunshots is audible in the background.
I start forward involuntarily, but Chris moves in front of me. Deputy Lee turns the radio back down again.
Go in! I want to tell him. Help my brother. I swallow and try to answer his questions as best I can. “Ty didn’t really fit in. Some of the other students used to drag him into fights. I think he was scared.”
“Did he express a desire for revenge?”
I hang my head. “He told me he’d show the world. He told me we’d never forget him. But I only thought he meant he wouldn’t let anyone get to him.”
Deputy Lee scribbles something on his notepad. “Did he ever discuss any of his plans with you?”
“He used to skip assembly because he thought the auditorium was a prison. But how could I—”
“So you didn’t know he was planning this?”
“Of course not!”
Chris squeezes my hand.
“Have you spoken to him recently? I understand he dropped out.” His voice grows softer, and it only makes me feel worse because there’s one thing I haven’t told him, haven’t told anybody.
“After we broke up, we didn’t talk much. I saw him around town occasionally when I needed supplies at the Brownes’ store, paints and tools for Matt—my brother. Ty was better with customers than his dad. Everybody knew old Mr. Browne started drinking again after the accident…” I swallow. “Ty had bruises. He wouldn’t talk about it, but it wasn’t because of the fights. They were welts, like someone hit him. I think his dad did.”
A sudden burst of anger forces out the next words, and my voice trembles as much as my hands do. “Sir, I can tell you about the Ty I knew. But I had no idea he would do something like this—could do something like this. I don’t know why it happened. I wish I could’ve stopped him. I would’ve done anything.”
If Deputy Lee is disappointed, he hides it well. He nods. “Are you willing to speak to one of our detectives later for a more in-depth interview?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We ask that you to stay in the area that’s been cordoned off until we’ve found a suitable place to gather the survivors.”
I wince at the word survivors. “My brother is inside. I need to do something to help.”
“I’m sorry. We need you to stay off to the side while we deal with the situation and set up a triage system.”
A new message emanates from Deputy Lee’s radio. This time, he doesn’t wait; he sprints back to the command center.
Out of habit, I look at Chris for direction and find him staring at me. He shakes his head.
We may have our orders, but we are not going to stand by and wait. I nod, and we run after the deputy.
To: Sis
It hurts.
To: Sis
You must not have your phone. You would’ve called me. But I want to talk to you. If you can, if you find some way… I hope you’re safe.
Chapter Sixteen
10:32–10:35 A.M.
TOMÁS
Tyler faces the auditorium. At his feet, Autumn crawls out of the way.
We all freeze, waiting to see who will make the first move.
Damn it. Damn him.
Tyler stares at the open doors, the students making their way up the aisles. Then he laughs. “No.”
A bullet shatters one of the overhead lights, and glass rains down from the ceiling in a deafening roar.
“I. Will. Not. Let. You. Go.” Tyler punctuates every word with a gunshot.
The students next to me scramble toward the door, ducking to keep low. The people nearest the doors run and push to get out. Mr. O’Brian, one of our science teachers, wraps his arm around a freshman as he escorts a group up the aisle. A bullet skims his shoulder, and Mr. O’Brian stumbles but manages to stay on his feet. Dozens of students spill into the hallway, yet too many are left behind.
Screams ricochet as bullets land around us.
Tyler fires at random, emptying his gun before he reaches to replace the cartridge. We wanted to free the auditorium and instead we brought more death and destruction. So much for heroism.
I scan the crowd to find my sister. She’s in front of several other seniors, just below the chaos. She’s standing right in Tyler’s line of sight, but she doesn’t duck. And somehow, miraculously, his spray of bullets misses her.
Rage consumes me.
He won’t touch my sister. Never again.
Then Tyler glances over his shoulder at Autumn. She’s crawling away, her back toward him. It’d be so easy to kill her.
Sylv darts forward to climb the stairs to the stage. Sylv, who refuses to be afraid of anything. She squares her shoulders and takes her first step toward Tyler.
A hand grabs my arm to stop me. “We need to take cover,” Fareed says. “This is our chance. We need to get out.”
Pure terror surges through me, stronger than anything I’ve felt today. “I can’t leave Sylv! He’ll kill her.” I try to wrestle free from Fareed.
“You can’t help her if you get shot,” he hisses frantically. Far drags me toward the door as the firi
ng starts again. “She’s distracting him. She’s giving all of us a chance. And you are not going to ruin it by dying now, dammit. Come on.”
Sweat pours down Far’s temples. “Autumn’s still down there,” he says, softer now. “She’ll be in a better position to protect Sylv. The police will be here soon.”
His fingers dig into my shoulder.
A freshman beside us stumbles and trips, sliding against the seat when a bullet perforates her neck. I almost join the screaming as blood spatters my face.
Fareed is right. And I hate him for it.
• • •
CLAIRE
Outside the cordoned police area, the road in front of Opportunity High has turned into a war zone. From inside the school, we can hear a mix of gunshots and screams. The air around the school stills, as everyone—police officers and parents—take in what it means. Officers pull assault rifles from their vans while three BearCats screech onto the asphalt, with ambulances hot on their heels.
Behind the barriers, news crews trickle in, setting up cameras and prepping anchors. “We are looking at a live picture of Opportunity High, home of a school shooting that has shocked the country. With the SWAT teams preparing to enter the school, parents have gathered to await news of their children and…”
The camera lights brighten the area around us, zooming in on everyone who so much as moves.
As we follow Deputy Lee at a distance, Chris and I inch past the camera crews, trying to ignore them. I wrap my arms around myself. “Is this what we are now? A story on the news?”
Chris hesitates, then stuffs his hands into his pockets. “They’re vultures.”
Beyond the camera crews, parents are pressed against the barricades. They call out to me or to anyone who will listen, despite the dozens of agents fielding their questions. “No, sir, we can’t tell you anything about your son or daughter yet.” “Yes, ma’am, as soon as we know anything, we will inform you.” “Sign your name here, and we will cross-reference it with our list.” “We do not need another contact inside. Please try to remain calm.”
“Claire!” My heart leaps at Dad’s voice. Would he have come home early from work? Is Mom with him? But when I scan the crowd, all the faces blur together, an Impressionist rendering of despair. Dad is nowhere to be seen. I want him to protect me, like when I was a little girl and he would hoist me on his shoulders when I got tired—but then he’d know I’m not as brave as Trace.
I do not want him or Mom to be here.
Chris and I move closer to where the police officers prep. Not so close to the command center that we will get noticed but not too far off either. We’re both waiting to hear if there’s something, anything we can do. If I can’t be courageous, I need to make myself useful.
The sheriff in charge is directing the SWAT officers, and the wind blows fragments of conversation our way, wrapping itself around Chris and me in icy gusts. We don’t reach out to keep each other warm.
Something changed between us, and it scares me. “Talk to me. Please.”
For the past four years, Chris and I have been best friends. Only a couple months ago, he drove me halfway across the country to see Tracy before she left for the desert. He arranged places to stay, food to eat when I couldn’t think of anything but my sister leaving for the other side of the world. He cares for Matt like his own brother, especially after Ty and I broke up. I need him close.
Chris’s eyes darken, and he stares past me. “We all have a lot on our minds,” he says softly.
A shout swells through the parents, press, police, and I turn, almost missing his next words: “I’m so terrified to lose you.”
One set of double doors slam open, and students come running out.
• • •
AUTUMN
The thunderstorm of bullets shatters any inkling of hope. Anytime I feel as if there are no more superlatives, that we’ve reached the worst, Ty proves me wrong.
He fires round after round. Those who are close enough to the door run for their lives. Those close to the stage hide in the corners and sides of the auditorium.
On hands and knees, I crawl away from him as fast as I can. With every inch gained, I expect a bullet to shatter my spine. My knees and my elbows feel like Jell-O under my weight, but I pull myself forward, clambering toward the steps at the side of the stage. I don’t want to look down at the carpet, which is stained with blood. But I need to get away from here. I need to get to Sylv before Ty sees her. Because if he does, there will be nothing left. If she dies, I will never be able to tell her that she is the one who keeps me standing. That her lips taste like a promise. That she makes me want to be a better version of myself. If she dies, I will believe every ugly word Dad ever said about me.
I slide between two rows of seats and fight the urge to cover my ears. A red-haired girl next to me shakes uncontrollably. Dried blood smudges her cheek. She reaches out and squeezes my hand. I choke back a sob.
Past the red-haired girl lies the boy Ty threatened earlier. Matt. For all the time my brother and his sister dated, we never officially met. Ty rarely brought people home, and he stopped altogether after Mom died. Whether it was because he was ashamed of me or of Dad, I never knew. Maybe he was ashamed of us both.
Matt’s shoulders knock against the chair legs, he’s shaking so hard. He looks so vulnerable, so scared. I reach out to him, then pull back. My brother is the reason he’s terrified.
Matt looks up, but instead of the disgust, the anger I deserve, he smiles.
I crawl closer to him. He clutches a phone, and I wrap my fingers around his ice-cold hands. “I’ll protect you.”
It’s a lie, but it’s kinder than the truth. The blood on his T-shirt has soaked the fabric, which stands out bright against his chalky skin.
“Take me home?” he asks.
I nod and stroke his hair.
And.
Silence.
Letting go of his hand, I push myself up to peek over the seat. Ty casually discards another cartridge and reaches into his waistband for another. In that heartbeat, when Ty’s gun isn’t loaded, I breathe. My mind calms.
But in the circle of destruction around him, only one person is close enough to stop him. Sylv.
No. No, please.
She walks up the aisle toward my brother. Sylv is out in the open. There is nothing between her and Ty as he snaps a new cartridge in place. Still that doesn’t stop her.
Please don’t.
Matt squeezes my hand. And we brace for whatever comes next.
• • •
SYLV
The echo of Autumn’s words spurs me on. I love her.
For a heartbeat, I wish I could lunge at Tyler and stop him, but he’ll shoot me before I can even move. His anger pushed me into darkness over the summer, which has been devouring me.
I stand tall.
“Grief is one big, gaping hole, isn’t it?” I say quietly. I don’t even know if he hears me, but my words are as much for myself as for him. “It’s everywhere and all consuming. Some days you think you can’t go on because the only thing waiting for you is more despair. Some days you don’t want to go on because it’s easier to give up than to get hurt again.”
I’m losing my mother one day at a time. I’m losing Autumn, who isn’t just my girlfriend but also my best friend. “I’ve lost myself. You took everything from me. I’ve stared at the abyss, Ty. I know everything about grief. And I’m so, so sorry for your loss.”
Tyler stares at me.
At his gun.
“If you want revenge, take it out on me.” I swallow. “But you are not alone.”
Behind me, I hear someone make a dash toward the door. Tyler pulls the trigger and shoots, and the thud of someone falling is followed by a loud silence. “Yes, I am.”
The next shot passes so close to me, the hair on the bac
k of my neck stands on end. I swallow a scream. Another bullet tears at the carpet near my feet. And I breathe in the too-familiar scent of expensive cologne and putrid sweat.
All the fear I’ve been keeping at bay rushes over me. The next bullet will be mine. I know it will be, but I won’t stand to face it. I want to savor every breath. I turn and run.
Someone cries out. Someone shoves into me; someone else holds out a hand to steady me.
Tyler’s footsteps follow me. I’m almost at the door. Everyone else is hiding, crying, and holding on to each other. With every step, I push forward harder.
Step after step.
Only one more.
Familiar hands grab my arm.
Tomás pulls me out of the auditorium, kicking the door shut behind us and bracing against it while Far closes the other set of doors.
The next bullet drills itself into the heavy wood with a dull thud.
I launch myself at Tomás. I want to pound his chest and tell him he was a fool for risking himself. He shouldn’t have done it for me. Never for me. But my arms wrap around his shoulders. He smells of horses and home. He startles—then he returns the hug. My brother. No matter how far I push him away, he will pick me up again and piece me together.
“Te extrañé.” I whisper the words into his chest.
“I missed you too,” he replies. His voice brims with feelings.
Those four words shatter me, but on the other side of the door, someone curses. More gunshots. We can’t stay here. We can’t keep the doors closed with too many people still inside.
My hand slides into Tomás’s, and this time I am running, dragging him and Fareed with me. The hallway offers nowhere to hide, so I instinctively make for the staircase. The air around us zings with life and possibilities—and I want to keep it that way.
We run away from the screams.
We run to get far, far away, where we’ll be together and safe.
CJ Johnson
@CadetCJJ
If I had a gun, I’d kill him. I would. #OHS
10:34 AM
Abby Smith
@YetAnotherASmith
@CadetCJJ We’re all here, praying for you.
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