Like I’ve said before, school’s nothing but routine, the same stuff over and over, day after day. Most afternoons, I arrive in from recess and get to my fifth-hour class early.

So today was no exception. Binders clutched to my chest, I strode down the hall.

I was nearly at the door to the Science room when I heard it.

A huge shattering of glass, like icicles breaking. I spun around.

A crowd had formed, and they were all jeering and pointing down the hall at something I couldn’t see in the Unified Arts wing.

Smoke.

My mouth dropped open in confusion and panic. A teacher pushed past me. The student with him had holes in his jeans that were covered in fiery orange sparks.

More students flooded the halls.

“What’s going on?” I screamed, but I couldn’t be heard above the chaos that reigned.

“Evacuate immediately!” my homeroom teacher shouted.

Help!

What’s happening?

Why are we evacuating?!

The fire alarm sounded, harsh and steady.

All I wanted to hear were answers.