The emergency lights are starting to give me a headache. It’s hard to see between strobes; the hallway flickering in and out, making the sports posters and dance fliers even more freaky and garish than usual.

  I’d completely spaced the dance this Friday. Decorations are probably already in the gym and cafeteria.

  Angela and I don’t run. It wasn’t even discussed, as though we both understand that running is noisy. Even so, every step makes my heart race and my palms sweat.

  How long has it been since those kids shot Mr. Stevens. Are we only getting closer?

  Angela grabs my shoulder before I can round a corner. “Did your mom keep your brain when she left?”

  I wrench my arm away and glare. “Okay, enjoy being alone.”

  “No, you moron.” Angela grabs my wrist. “You need to look around the corner first, duh.”

  I huff out a breath and force my hands to unclench. I hate that I can’t counter her point. “That’s the last time you bring up my mother.”

  Angela rolls her eyes. “Or what?”

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  “Don’t,” I grit out before checking the next hallway.

  It’s my own fault. I knew better than to tell Angela anything personal. I’m not even sure why I brought my mom up in the first place; I haven’t thought about her in years.

  No one is lurking around the corner and we proceed. Lucy’s locker is almost exactly in the center, right across from the library.

  Every class and alcove we pass is like a trap. I start reading locker numbers to calm myself. 1075, 1074, 1073. My hands still tremble.

  What if Lucy’s meds are in there? I can’t pal around with Angela trying to bring my friend her medication. And the clock is ticking.

  What other choice is there?

  A flash of movement catches my attention, halting my steps. Angela slams into my back. “What the h–”

  “Sh,” I hiss quickly, my eyes darting back and forth. Angela’s breath turns shallow, quick, panicked puffs filling the halls. I slap a hand over her mouth.

  Another moment passes and the only movement is the quick flutter of a loose streamer, dancing in the crappy AC. I slowly release my hold on Angela’s mouth, holding a single finger over my lips. She just nods, her eyes wide.

  It feels like hours before we finally cross the hall and I open Lucy’s locker, still watching for movement from the corner of my eye.

  Angela lets out a surprised snort. “How long has Murray’s locker been busted? Ramona and I could have had some fun.”

  I glare, inwardly cursing myself for not even spinning the lock, but I’m so wound up. “She left it on the last –”

  The metal of the locker clangs as a large hole appears in the door.