This Is Where It Ends Page 8

  Sylv didn’t like it one bit. She was a sight: an eight-year-old in pigtails and flowered pink overalls stomping through the fields, trying to follow and spy on us. Granddad doted on her but he put his foot down. We watched as he crouched in front of her and explained that she didn’t have to understand farm life. She had a bright future ahead of her. She was his mariposa, his butterfly, and the apple of his eye.

  She huffed and puffed about it up in her tree house for days.

  Sylvia, my opposite, who cares for Mamá as easy as Granddad does. Who cared for Gran and humored her belief in spirits and brujería as causes for Mamá’s forgetfulness and Gran’s pains and aches.

  She never convinced Granddad to teach her how to pick locks, but she joined us fishing and hunting every chance she got before Mamá got sick. She loved the hard work.

  Sylv used to be fierce and fearless.

  And even when she fell ill last summer, she still helped out on the farm. With her stellar grades, she could get into every school in the freaking country. She is perfect in every way, and if I didn’t love her so much, I would’ve hated her for setting the bar impossibly high.

  When I told Granddad I wanted to go to college too, he just patted my shoulder and told me the farm would always be there for me. He never believed I could do it.

  The paper clip twists and snaps. Hell.

  The flimsy clips are no alternative to lock picks. Abue—Granddad showed us how to pick rusty, old padlocks. The heavy-duty locks that fasten these chains are not the cheap-ass things they sell at the Browne hardware store. Whoever bought these wanted to make sure no one gets out alive.

  Hopefully Fareed has better luck on his side of the school. If there’s anyone I trust to do this, it’s him. He and Sylvia, they are confident.

  Fareed is the only Muslim student at Opportunity. He stands out in the crowd, with his easy ways and melodic accent. But he woos the teachers and has them wrapped around his little finger. He keeps the language of his parents. He prays several times a day. He is confident in his traditions.

  And I envy it.

  Ah, I wish I remembered the words to Padre Nuestro or Ave María. I wish my abuelo were here, so I could watch him work this lock. My mother doesn’t recognize me, and my sister doesn’t recognize me. If I don’t get out of here, what will be left of me? Who will remember me?

  It’s easier to know who I’m not than to know who I am. When everyone expects me to fail, it’s easier to give up than to try.

  The next gunshot makes my knees buckle.

  • • •

  SYLV

  My heart seizes. Nyah. The warning shot passed right by her.

  Several feet in front of me, Asha shouts and scrambles toward her little sister.

  “Ash, help me!” On the far side of the auditorium, Nyah squirms in Tyler’s grip. She’s a talented pitcher with a strong arm, but Tyler is stronger. He has the gun. And Nyah can only beg for help. “No, no, no. Please don’t. Oh my God, please don’t.”

  My nails scratch at the carpet until my fingertips burn. Then I dart forward.

  On my knees, I grasp at Asha’s ankles. I’m vaguely aware of other hands pulling at Asha too. She is liable to strike us all down for getting in her way. But even with her determination, she can’t part this sea of students.

  We pull her to the ground, and I wrap her in a hug while she struggles against me. I don’t want to hurt her, but if I can keep her safe—if it’s the only thing I do today—it will have meant something.

  She will hate me for it. If Tomás were at risk, I would want to protect him. But there is no protection from Tyler. He clearly doesn’t care about anything anymore. He hasn’t cared about anything since junior prom, when everything started to spin out of control.

  Until that night, he stayed aloof, despite spray-painted lockers and messages scratched into the hood of his car. He tricked us with his eloquence and the occasional fake smile. We never saw him for what he really was, and now it is too late.

  Down the aisle, Autumn crawls, leaving a wave of unease in her wake. If she hides with our classmates, he won’t immediately see her. Maybe that will keep her safe.

  “It’s easy, Autumn,” Tyler continues. “Either you come down here or I continue tormenting your friends. Oh wait. You don’t have friends. Come out or I’ll pick off the entire school. Just. Like. This.”

  The shot mingles with Asha’s shriek of grief. But she stops struggling, as if everything worth fighting for has died at that moment.

  And a piece of me dies too.

  • • •

  CLAIRE

  We hear the sirens first, their sound deceptively close. There are no cars in sight. In the far distance, the road seems to shimmer with the heat of engines.

  “Claire.”

  My mouth tastes of blood and metal. I must’ve bitten my lip when I tripped. I press my face against the concrete, savoring the cold against my cheek. I close my eyes and feel for the vibration of the road.

  Above me, Chris looms, tall and dark. He breathes hard, his hands pressed to his sides. “Claire, get up. If you cool down too much, your muscles will seize.”

  His words sound different, as if they are coming to me through a thick fog.

  Flickering blue lights appear on the horizon as the sirens grow closer. Their cry makes me want to cover my ears—it’s all too loud.

  “Claire, think about Matt.”

  I snap back. Chris’s face swims into clarity above me, a deep frown betraying his concern. He reaches out a hand, and I grab it. Sharp pain shoots through my calves as he pulls me to my feet. Keeping hold of his arm, I lean forward and stretch as far as I can.

  The first police car zooms by without stopping.

  My stomach revolts, and I retch until I’m gasping for air. Chris’s hands gently push my hair out of my face.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to—”

  I shake my head. No matter how hard we fight, he’s always here for me. And that means everything.

  Four, five, six more cars pass us, covering us in dust from the road and fading exhaust fumes.

  “You’re right,” I reply. Matt is my responsibility. I am supposed to protect him, and now I’m not even there for him. “Thank you.”

  The last car in line screeches to a halt, and a young police officer rolls down her window and leans out.

  “Are you OHS kids?” she asks, her voice clipped.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Chris says.

  The officer nods and jerks her head. “Get in. We can’t have you wandering around campus today.”

  When she unlocks the door, a weight lifts off my chest. She’ll bring us back to Opportunity High—bring me to Matt. It must be a sign. We can do something. This will work out. Everything will work out. Everyone will be okay. Somehow.

  The officer pauses with a stern frown. “This is not some kind of heroic mission. You’ll stay with me until someone can escort you to Opportunity or your homes. Let’s go.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” we chorus. Before she can say anything else, I slide into the car and Chris follows me. The smell of leather and rubber tires overwhelms my senses, and it’s as familiar as settling into Jonah’s car. But the constant radio transmissions talk about threats and shootings. And I’m uneasy instead of comforted.

  The Adventures of Mei

  Current location: Home

  >> Dad won’t reply to my texts. There are so many sirens. The cars pass by our home on their way to school, and everything lights up blue. I don’t want to know what they’ll find. Everyone I know is at OHS.

  Comments: <12>

  OMG. Is there anything I can do to help? Praying for you.

  Have you heard from your dad? Is everything okay?

  Such a hoax. You’re not even at Opportunity. You just want to get readers.

&nbs
p; EWWW. Does that make you feel better? You’re disgusting. Why would anyone lie about this? Are you really that narrow-minded? If you have nothing positive to say, why don’t you just stay away from this discussion? We wouldn’t miss you at all.

  Chapter Ten

  10:20–10:22 A.M.

  CLAIRE

  We’re going back, and it’s comfort and terror all wrapped into a bundle of emotions. Matt…

  I can’t stop thinking about him—the concentration in his green eyes as he works on his pewter figurines. His grin whenever he challenges Chris to a fight, whenever he chats with Trace. The way he looked up to Ty. The annoyance every time strangers stare at his crutches.

  I can’t…

  I need my mind clear to deal with whatever is waiting for us once we are back at the school. I need to make sure Matt’s safe. I want to help our track team, our cadets, everyone.

  I place my hand over Chris’s.

  Without footsteps to count, I listen to the wheels thump over the seams in the uneven road—one two three, one two three.

  We’ll be stronger than our fear. We’ll make it out of here today. We’ll find a way.

  Even this road is proof of that. The Road to Opportunity. It’s part of our traditions, our team, our certainties.

  Every summer when school’s out, the entire track team runs to campus together. Even the field athletes. In the woods behind the parking lot and the football grounds, we’ll camp out. Between the school grounds and the tree line, there’s a perfect private field.

  We’ll eat pastries from the local bakery, courtesy of Avery’s mother; chocolate, as much as we can carry; popcorn; rock candy; licorice for Chris, though I can’t stand the taste.

  No alcohol until the JV athletes are asleep, but then we’ll drink. We’ll toast our four years together, Chris and I, staying up until the break of dawn. It’d be a waste to sleep through our last night as students at Opportunity.

  We’ll watch the stars fade and the moon disappear. We’ll watch the sun set fire to the horizon. And we’ll talk about the future one last time before it’s actually upon us.

  We’ll be together.

  It’ll be the night we’ll remember as the best of high school.

  We just have to make it there, one day at a time.

  • • •

  TOMÁS

  The second and third paper clip break under the pressure too. Snap. Snap. One after another, I drop them on the linoleum.

  I rock back on my heels, stand, and step away to keep from slamming the door in frustration.

  I walk back toward the main corridor and glance around the corner. Nothing. No Fareed. No police. Just endless, oppressing silence. Nothing that proves there are a thousand students in the building. They should be in these halls, laughing, arguing, tripping each other.

  The heavy doors keep out so many sounds—but I need something to distract me from the noise in my head.

  Back at the door, I drop to my knees. I straighten two new paper clips. Insert one into the lock, then the other. Push all other thoughts from my mind.

  When I wrench the first tip down, it slips past the pins of the locking mechanism.

  I wipe my sweaty fingers on my jeans. I push the second paper clip into the lock and begin exerting pressure again. I should have searched around Neil’s office for larger clips because these are too small for a good grip. Still, the first pins give way.

  Three pins down.

  The paper clip slips over the next.

  One more.

  A knock echoes through the door, and I jerk back. The padlock swings from my hand, but I manage to grab it before it hits the door.

  There’s a second knock.

  Crap.

  The door muffles the sounds inside the auditorium, but how the hell do I know if it’s true the other way around? I avoid assemblies if I can, though usually that means missing the bus or skipping school. I have no idea how far the sound of my picking the locks carries. I have no idea what is on the other side of the door. It might be someone trying to get out. It might be a gunman waiting to blast my brains out. I don’t know what frightens me more.

  I hesitate, then palm a screwdriver like a weapon.

  Steeling myself, I crouch so I can run if I need to and raise my hand to rap on the door. Near the corner so the sound won’t carry. An unconscious melody.

  • • •

  SYLV

  Asha feels brittle. We’re poised for flight, but there’s nowhere to go. Getting out alive is no longer the goal—not dying yet is.

  Knocking may have been a disastrous plan, but the shadows kept moving. I have to know what’s out there—who’s out there. And between the sobbing and Tyler’s proclamations, no one pays attention to me.

  My hand still hovers by the door.

  My heart rate picks up.

  From the other side of the door comes a familiar rhythm. It’s the beat of a song Abuelo always hummed for us when we were smaller. For the first time, I dare to hope. Tyler wouldn’t have known Tomás spent the morning in detention. He wouldn’t have gone looking for him first. Tomás wouldn’t be locked in.

  He’s alive.

  He could get us out of here.

  The sudden onslaught of hope makes me dizzy. Surreptitiously, I scan the area around me. No one has eyes for anyone but Tyler—and Autumn.

  Autumn, who is walking toward her brother.

  No… My breath catches. No, she can’t.

  Autumn’s face is drawn. She holds herself ramrod straight. With every step she takes, she seems to shrink a little more. I can’t remember the last time she laughed without reservation. I can’t remember seeing her as happy as she used to be, sitting on a wooden fence with her back to the cotton fields and the sunset, smiling as Mrs. Browne demonstrated a dance pose.

  She can’t give into him now. He’ll never let her go. He’ll never let us go. She’s not the one he wants. His revenge isn’t for her.

  But in her position, I would do the same. When Mamá fell ill, my brothers came from all over the country to help us close her law office and move out of our house and to Abuelo’s farm. When Tomás almost got kicked out of Opportunity High, Abuelo and I talked to Principal Trenton to prevent that from happening. When I told my family about my girlfriend, they celebrated my happiness even though Father Jones preaches about sin, hell, and damnation.

  I would stay in Opportunity and give up my dreams for my family.

  I can’t imagine what it’s like not to have that. For as much as I despise Tyler, I love Autumn. It’s why I could never tell her what he did. I want her to be able to keep the only true family she has.

  Autumn is breaking away from us all, and there’s nothing I can do. I would run to her, cling to her, but at the same time, I want to hug my brother and never let him go. For so many months, we’ve barely spoken, but his being here gives me strength I didn’t know I had. I want to hold on to them both.

  I can’t lose them.

  I finish the song Tomás started.

  • • •

  AUTUMN

  Every time I blink, I see Nyah’s face being torn apart by a bullet. Asha’s scream echoes in my ears—or perhaps she’s still screaming. Ty is my only brother, but right now, I want him to die. To take the gun and shoot himself.

  Or for me to wake up from this nightmare and for everything to go back to normal again.

  I keep my eyes staunchly on Ty and try to ignore the people around me. The looks are no longer pitiful, no longer worried about my poor, fucked-up home. Instead it’s all anger, fear, hatred. They blame me for Nyah’s death, and rightly so. If only I’d spoken up, I might have saved her.

  I hope Sylv isn’t watching, that she’s turned away too.

  It proves harder for Ty to get his hands on the kid next to Nyah, who has the common sense to crawl away
under the seats. The boy shimmies away, but when a pair of red crutches clatter to the floor, I gasp.

  Matt. I never met him, but Ty always spoke fondly of the boy. While I spent long summer evenings with Sylv, Matt and Claire were the family Ty never had.

  If Matt isn’t safe, none of us are.

  I’m torn between my brother, my best friend, my protector, who used to sneak me chocolate after dance practice, the Ty I lost along the way, and this stranger in front of me. When he dug up my hidden ballet shoes to show Dad I never stopped dancing, he stood back and let Dad beat me until I thought Dad was going to kill me. Who is this person I call my brother? I don’t even know who we are now. But for what we once were to each other, maybe there is something I can do. If anyone can get through to him, it’s me. I have to try.

  I stand. No one notices me. All eyes are fixed on Ty and his next victim.

  “Tyler.” My voice is nothing more than a hoarse whisper. I swallow hard. Numbness trickles down my spine to my fingertips.

  Murmurs surround me. Heads turn. The broken silence gives me strength. I clear my throat again before Tyler can shoot another student in my stead.

  “Tyler. I’m here.”

  CJ Johnson

  @CadetCJJ

  I can’t find my brother. My friends are dying. This is hell. #OHS

  10:21 AM

  CJ Johnson

  @CadetCJJ

  He said we ruined his life and now we’ll never escape. #OHS

  10:21 AM

  Jim Tomason

  @JTomasonSTAR

  @CadetCJJ Do you feel #OHS is to blame for the situation? Our reporters would like to get in touch.

  10:22 AM

  Chapter Eleven

  10:22–10:25 A.M.

  TOMÁS

  The knocks on the other side of the door complete my song. I knock again. She replies. She. Sylvia. I knew she was in the auditorium, like a good student, but the confirmation kills me. How the hell do I convey “I came back for you” in knocks? How do I tell her I will get her out of there?