Nobody seemed to know why.
By the time afternoon classes began, the air-conditioning was already losing its fight against thirty-odd bodies and a wall of windows warmed by the Eden sun. Give it another hour and everyone near the back would be complaining about the heat again. But for those first few minutes after lunch, the room was cold enough that I pulled my cardigan tighter around myself.
1.27PM. Three minutes until class after our lunch break.
Nobody was behaving like it.
Someone near the back was passing around a bag of potato chips. Two boys by the windows had their heads together over a mobile game, whispering insults at each other. A girl in front of me had been asleep since we came back from lunch, cheek buried between her folded arms while her friends made no attempt to wake her.
Outside, the afternoon glare washed the opposite school block almost white. Beyond the fence were rows of apartment towers, older shop-houses and, every few minutes, the silver line of an elevated train slipping through the gaps between them.
Just another afternoon.
I looked down at my phone. There was still no reply. Not that there was supposed to be one. I hadn't sent anything.
The message box contained four words.
Are you free later?
I stared at them for a while.
Added a smiley. Removed the smiley.
"Girl."
I locked my phone.
My best friend dropped into the chair in front of me, strawberry milk already in hand.
"Be serious."
"What?"
"You've been staring at his chat since we got back."
"I haven't."
"Celeste, please."
She took another sip.
"Just text him."
"...Why are you so invested in this?" I squinted at her.
"Because I've had to watch you open the same chat six times in twenty minutes."
"That's not true."
"Right, right."
I looked away.
She pointed the straw at me. "You coward."
"You're annoying."
"And you're scared."
"I'm thinking."
"Girl, you've been thinking since last year."
I reached across and pushed the carton away from my face before she could jab me with the straw.
"Can you not make this your problem?"
"It became my problem when you asked me whether a full stop sounds angry."
"That was one time."
"It was yesterday."
She doesn't know anything.
Linda gave me the kind of look that made defending myself feel pointless.
"Just ask if he's free after school. That's it. You're not proposing."
If only it were that simple.
"What if he asks why?"
"Then tell him you want to hang out."
"Alone?"
"That's how asking someone out works, yessss..."
I stared at her, and she challenged me with a look back.
"You make everything sound so easy."
"It is easy."
"...For you."
"Well, yeaah? Because I actually speak to people."
"I speak to people!"
"You rehearse ordering drinks."
"I do not."
"You changed your bubble tea order because the cashier looked busy."
"Oh shut up..."
"Celeste." She covered her face with one hand.
"What?" I snapped back at her, annoyed.
"Please get a spine before graduation... before your man gets taken."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
The school chime rang through the corridor. Linda only shrugged, wearing the sort of smile that told me she knew exactly what she'd just done, then grabbed her strawberry milk and headed back to her seat.
"Think about it."
"Linda."
She waved without looking back.
I stared after her.
...Before he gets taken?
No. She was messing with me. She had to be. Still, my eyes wandered towards the empty chair in front of me.
It belonged to him, though he hadn't made it back from lunch yet. Neither had a few others. Probably squeezing every last minute out of the break before a teacher caught them in the corridor.
My phone was still in my hand.
Are you free later?
I read it one more time.
Then locked the screen without sending it.
The classroom door slid open.
Our teacher entered with a stack of worksheets tucked beneath one arm, already looking as tired as the rest of us felt. A few conversations died immediately. Others took another second or two before someone noticed him standing at the front.
Chairs scraped. Linda finally faced forward. I slipped my phone beneath the desk.
"Afternoon," our teacher said.
The response came back in pieces.
"Afternoon..."
"Good afternoon..."
Someone near the windows didn't answer at all.
He was asleep.
Nobody bothered waking him.
Afternoon classes after lunch were cruel in a very specific way.
The room had gone quiet beneath the steady hum of the air-conditioning, with thirty-odd students caught somewhere between digestion and mathematics. Our teacher worked through the first problem on the board while pens moved lazily across paper and heads gradually found hands to lean against.
Even Linda had stopped bothering me.
Two rows over, someone yawned hard enough to make the girl beside him yawn too.
Then I did.
I covered my mouth and blinked at the numbers on the board.
1.38PM. Barely eight minutes into class.
This was going to be a long afternoon.
My eyes drifted forward.
His seat was right in front of mine, close enough that I could see the way the ends of his hair curled whenever he hadn't bothered drying it properly after basketball.
He was copying from the board. Or pretending to. Every few seconds his head dipped lower, then jerked back up again. I watched him lose the same fight with sleep three times. On the fourth, I smiled. Then realised I had been staring. I dropped my eyes to my workbook. There was a face in the margin. Somewhere between the second equation and Mr Han explaining some quadratic something-or-other, I had apparently drawn him.
Not even properly. Worse. Big eyes. Sharp little nose. Ridiculous hair. Sparkles around his head for absolutely no reason. I stared at it in horror. It looked like the male lead from some shoujo manga Linda would pretend not to read.
I slapped my palm over the page. No, absolutely not. I glanced around. Nobody was looking.
Linda was facing forward.
If she saw this, I would have to change schools. I carefully slid my eraser over the first sparkle.
Then stopped.
...
It was kind of cute.
I left the face and erased the sparkles instead.
My mechanical pencil clicked beneath my thumb.
Once. Twice. Three times.
I tried to copy the next line from the board.
Something about quadratic functions. My handwriting made it halfway across the page before gradually slanting downwards with the rest of my attention. His head dipped again. This time it stayed there.
A laugh almost escaped me.
The teacher didn't notice. Or maybe he did and had already decided one sleeping student wasn't worth interrupting the lesson for. His voice continued at the same flat pace while sunlight warmed the windows and the air-conditioning hummed overhead.
Behind me, someone dropped a pen.
Nobody picked it up for several seconds.
That was the sort of afternoon it was.
Even the school seemed sleepy.
From where I sat, I could see a thin slice of the courtyard through the windows. The trees barely moved. A few students from another class crossed between blocks carrying sports equipment, taking their time because no teacher was watching them closely enough to care.
An ambulance siren passed somewhere beyond the school.
I heard it for perhaps five seconds before the buildings swallowed the sound.
Nobody looked up. There were always ambulances.
I turned another page. The next margin was clean.
My pencil moved.
A circle.
I stopped.
No. I turned the circle into a badly shaped apple. Then gave it a leaf so nobody could accuse me of anything.
"Miss Celeste."
My entire body straightened.
Our teacher was looking at me.
Thirty pairs of eyes weren't, thankfully. Most people were too tired to care who had been caught zoning out.
"Yes?"
"What is the answer?"
I looked at the board. There were three separate equations up there now.
I had no idea which one he meant.
"Uh..."
Linda's head turned slightly from two rows away.
Not enough to get caught helping. Just enough for me to see her mouth something.
I squinted. Seven? Seventy? Was she saying Steven?
"Seven?" I tried.
Mr Han stared at me. A few people snickered.
"It's twenty-four."
"Oh."
"Please follow along."
"Sorry."
Only when the teacher turned back towards the board did Linda's shoulders start shaking.
I glared at the back of her head.
She turned just enough to look at me.
Her lips formed one word.
Sorry.
She was not sorry.
I wrote 24 much harder than necessary.
The boy in front of me lifted his head.
Apparently the threat of public humiliation had woken him.
He looked at the board, then at me.
"You got called?"
"Go back to sleep."
He smiled without turning around properly.
"You sound upset."
"I hope you fail."
"Too late."
Then he faced forward again.
I stared at his hair, then at the little shoujo face in my margin before closing the workbook halfway over it. For a few seconds, the classroom settled back into its afternoon stupor. Marker against whiteboard. The hum of the air-conditioning. Someone shifting in their seat behind me.
Then a door slammed somewhere out in the corridor.
The sound carried further than it should have.
Mr Han stopped writing.
"Tsk. Who's making all that racket..."
A moment later came the hurried slap of footsteps against the corridor floor, quick enough to draw a few heads towards the door before fading in the direction of the stairwell.
Mr Han sighed, set the marker down, and stepped outside to see what was going on.
Almost on cue, someone's phone buzzed the second he disappeared from view. Then another. Mine followed. With the teacher outside, half the class reached for their phones at once. I slipped mine out from beneath the desk and woke the screen.
Three notifications.
The first was from our class group chat. The second came from the year-level chat, already buried beneath newer messages before I could read the preview.
The third had Mum's name on it.
Then someone yelled outside.
A single, sharp cry of pain that cut straight through the classroom.
My thumb stopped over the screen.
For a second, nobody moved.
"Was that Mr Han?"
A chair scraped back.
"What happened?"
"I think that was him."
The room came alive all at once. People who had been half-asleep thirty seconds ago were sitting upright, talking over one another. A few students nearest the door craned their necks towards the corridor.
Linda twisted around in her seat.
I looked at her. She looked back at me. Neither of us said anything.
"Maybe he fell."
"How do you fall in a hallway?"
"Shut up, you know what I mean."
Someone laughed, but it came out uncertain.
Another minute passed. Maybe less. Still, it was strange how long it felt with Mr Han still outside.
I glanced at the clock, then towards the door again.
He had only stepped out to check the hallway.
How long could that take?
Then, Damien stood.
Of course Damien stood.
Every class had one person who could turn detention into an audience participation event, and ours had been cursed with him since the start of the year. He pushed his chair back and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?"
"To check on Mr Han."
That earned a few laughs.
"Since when do you care?"
Damien put a hand dramatically to his chest as he walked backwards.
"Wow. Mr Han's probably injured and this is what you think of me?"
"You're going because you're nosy."
Ignoring everyone calling after him, the class prankster slipped through the open door before anyone could stop him. A few people immediately got up after him, though none of them went outside yet.
"Oi, Damien. What happened?"
He didn't answer.
"Damien?"
He had stopped just beyond the doorway.
His back was towards us.
For some reason, that quieted the students nearest him more effectively than any teacher could have.
"Bro?"
Nothing.
Someone nudged the door wider.
That was when I saw part of Damien's face.
Only through the gap between two people standing near the entrance.
His eyes were wide.
Terrified.
My phone lowered slightly in my hand.
"What is it?" someone asked.
Damien took one step backwards.
Something moved beyond him.
Too fast for me to make out properly.
A shape crossing the corridor.
Then a rough, strangled—
"Aaargh—!"
Damien disappeared from the doorway.
There was a heavy thud.
Several people screamed.
"What the fuck?"
"Mr Han just pushed Damien!"
"What?"
"He pushed him!"
More students rushed towards the door.
I stood without realising it.
"What's going on outside?"
The boy in front of me did too. Linda was already halfway out of her chair. From where I was, all I could see were shoulders and heads gathering around the entrance.
"What is he doing?"
"Move."
"Let me see."
"Sir?"
"Why's he on top of him?"
Then the crowd at the door went strangely quiet.
There were little sounds.
A sharp inhale.
Someone whispering, "What the fuck..."
Another voice, much smaller.
"Mr... ...Han?"
Then Damien screamed.
Every hair on my arms stood up.
It wasn't like the shout before. This one lasted. High and raw and desperate enough that several students nearest the doorway recoiled into the classroom. Someone stumbled backwards into a desk.
The metal legs shrieked across the floor.
For half a second, everything stopped.
The scrape drew his attention.
Outside, our teacher's head snapped around.
I saw Mr Han clearly this time.
His mouth was red. Not a little. Blood covered his lips, his chin, the front of his shirt. Something had torn into the side of his neck. Blood was still running from it in thick streaks beneath his collar.
For one stupid moment, my brain tried to make sense of that before anything else.
Mr Han was hurt. He was badly hurt.
So why was there blood in his mouth?
His unfocused eyes found his students standing by the door.
The classroom froze.
I don't remember deciding to move.
One second I was beside my desk, and the next I was behind him.
"Ethan..."
My fingers had caught the back of his sleeve just above his elbow, bunching the fabric hard enough that I could feel my nails through it. Linda had moved too. She was closer. One hand was wrapped around his forearm, the other pressed flat against the middle of his back as if she'd run straight into him and forgotten to let go.
Ethan flinched. Not from me.
From her.
His head turned just slightly towards Linda first, enough that I saw the side of his face.
"You okay?"
Linda nodded too quickly.
"Yeah."
He looked at me after.
"You?"
"Mm."
That was all I managed.
It shouldn't have mattered.
There was blood all over our teacher's mouth.
Damien was somewhere on the floor outside.
People were starting to scream.
And still, some miserable little part of me noticed that Ethan had reacted to Linda before he reacted to me.
Then he looked towards the windows.
"What floor are we on?"
I stared at him.
"What?"
Ethan wasn't looking at either of us anymore.
For half a second I genuinely thought he'd lost his mind.
Second floor. Obviously.
We had been in this classroom almost every weekday for the better part of a year. The courtyard was right below us. The covered walkway connecting the blocks ran beneath one side of the windows.
Why was he asking that now?
Ethan was counting something under his breath while looking through the glass.
Then he grabbed the nearest window latch and shoved it open.
Hot air rushed into the room.
Several people turned.
"What are you doing?!"
He ignored them.
"You two."
Linda's grip tightened on his arm.
"What?"
"When I say, we're going out."
I looked at the window.
Then down.
Then back at him.
"Out?"
"Jump."
For a moment, even the screaming near the door seemed quieter.
Linda blinked.
"Are you insane?"
"It's the second floor."
"You want us to jump out the window?!"
"Remember that crisis class?"
Neither of us answered.
He looked between us.
"The one they made us do last year. Emergency evacuation. Jumping from height."
A memory surfaced reluctantly. Don't lock your knees. Protect your head. Don't try to stay standing if you come down badly.
The teacher outside made another wet, broken sound.
A desk crashed near the door.
People screamed again.
He looked towards the front of the room.
"We're not getting through that hallway."
That shut Linda up.
He pushed the window wider.
"At my signal, get on the ledge and jump. Don't try to land straight. Bend, take the impact and roll if you have to."
I looked down again.
It seemed much higher now that I was considering actually going through it.
The courtyard concrete below suddenly looked very unforgiving. A warm breeze slipped through the open window, brushing across my arms and raising the fine hairs along my skin.
My fingers tightened around the back of his shirt. He noticed. This time he looked at me properly.
"You'll be okay."
I wanted to believe him.
Then Linda's hand slipped from his arm to his wrist.
"You're jumping too, right?"
He looked at her.
"Obviously."
Something in his face softened.
And there it was again. That stupid little ache in my chest.
Then our teacher lunged through the doorway.
"Shut the door!"
"Move! Move!"
"Mr Han—what the fuck?!"
The students nearest the entrance scattered so fast that two chairs went over with them. Someone tried to drag the door shut, but there were too many bodies in the way now, too many people pushing backwards without knowing where backwards was supposed to lead.
Mr Han caught one of them by the shoulder.
The scream that followed ripped through whatever hesitation remained in the room.
I turned towards the window. The courtyard was right there. So was the drop. It had looked survivable when Ethan explained it. It looked much less survivable with my toes almost touching the sill.
Linda made a small sound beside me.
"Are we seriously doing this?"
Another desk crashed behind us.
Someone screamed, "He's biting him!"
That was enough. Ethan climbed through first, one hand braced against the frame.
"Remember the landing. Don't lock your legs."
"Easy for you to say," Linda snapped, but she was already following.
I got one knee onto the sill.
The wind hit my face.
Below us, concrete.
Above us, screaming.
Behind us, something heavy struck the wall.
He looked at both of us.
"On three."
I swallowed.
"One."
Linda grabbed my hand.
"Two."
I grabbed his sleeve.
"Three."
We jumped.
For a fraction of a second there was nothing beneath me.
Then everything hit at once.
My feet struck concrete. Pain shot up both legs so hard my vision flashed white. My knees folded beneath me just like they'd taught us, and I let the impact carry me sideways into a roll.
Somewhere beside me, Linda cried out.
He hit harder.
I heard the impact before I saw him collapse onto one knee.
For several seconds, all I could hear was my own breathing.
We just jumped out of the classroom window.
Then—
"My leg...!"
Linda.
I forced myself upright.
She was sitting awkwardly on the concrete, both hands around her lower leg, face twisted tight enough that I knew she wasn't exaggerating.
"Linda!"
"I'm fine... just, gotta walk it off..."
Above us, glass shattered.
All three of us looked up.
A window on the floor we'd just left burst outward. Someone screamed from inside. Ethan got up too quickly, swore, then nearly went back down again.
"You okay?"
"Yeah... ugh... I'm fine."
He wasn't. One arm was tucked close against his ribs, and his left wrist had already begun swelling.
Another scream came from above. Then more followed.
"Come on."
He crouched beside Linda.
"Can you stand?"
"I think so."
She tried. The moment she put weight on one foot, her face went white.
"Nope."
"Okay."
He turned his back to her and hooked one arm behind himself.
"Use my shoulder."
"What about your wrist?"
"I've got another one."
"This isn't funny."
"I'm not joking."
Linda hesitated only a second before throwing an arm over him. I took her other side, and together we pulled her upright.
Pain flared through my own ankle when I stood properly.
I sucked in a breath. He noticed.
"You too?"
"I'm okay."
"Can you walk?"
"I said I'm okay."
He looked like he wanted to argue.
Another window broke above us.
That settled it.
"Move."
We stumbled away from the building.
Behind us, the screams were getting louder.
Not one classroom anymore. Several.
"What is happening?" Linda gasped.
"I don't know."
"Where are we even going?"
"Entrance."
"Why?"
"My brother."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"...He called me... ugh... during lunch."
"When?"
"Before class."
"And you didn't say anything?"
"He told me to get out of school."
Linda nearly lost her footing.
"What do you mean, get out?"
"He was already in the car. Said something was happening near the main road. People attacking each other. He thought it was drugs or some riot or something."
"And you came back to class?"
"I thought he was overreacting! He texted me earlier saying he was coming to pick me up."
He sounded angry at himself now.
"He said if anything happened, go straight to the roundabout by the entrance. He's waiting there."
"You have a car?"
"My brother does. Look for a black Audi when we're there."
We kept moving.
Only then did I remember the phone still clutched in my hand.
The screen was covered in notifications.
Missed calls. Messages. Mum. Dad. Two from my older cousin. The family group chat had gone from its usual silence to so many messages that I couldn't read them while walking.
Linda checked hers. Her expression changed instantly.
"Oh my God."
"What?"
"My mum's called me six times."
"Mine too."
"Why didn't we hear them?"
"We were in class."
"No, I mean—"
She stopped herself. None of us needed the answer. Everything had happened too quickly.
Another crash came from behind us.
I looked back, but I wished I hadn't. The school still looked normal from a distance. That was the worst part.
One of the classroom windows above ours was open now.
A student climbed through.
Someone inside was screaming at him to wait.
He didn't. He jumped badly. There was no attempt to bend, no hanging from the ledge, no roll. The student hit the ground almost straight-legged and collapsed with a scream I could hear from across the courtyard.
Another window slid open.
Then another. Glass broke somewhere higher up.
Faces appeared behind windows all along the block.
Some only stared. Some were shouting down. Some were trying to climb out.
It was spreading.
On the ground floor, people were already pouring out through the open corridors and side exits, not even climbing or forcing their way through anything. At first there were only a few of them, appearing one after another like the first ants drawn out by the scent of food.
Then more followed. Students. Teachers. Someone still carrying a school bag over one shoulder. A girl in indoor shoes with one sock half fallen down. They ran without any real direction, only away from the building, and every person who burst through an exit seemed to convince three more behind them that running was the right thing to do.
Within seconds, the trickle became a stream.
"Celeste."
Linda tugged against my arm.
I was still looking.
A teacher came out of one of the ground-floor doors and nearly collided with a group of students cutting across the courtyard. Someone fell. Nobody stopped to help them up.
Another cluster spilled from the stairwell entrance.
Then somebody inside screamed.
The people nearest that doorway broke into a sprint.
That was enough for me.
I turned away.
We hurried towards the roundabout as fast as Linda's leg allowed, Ethan half-supporting her while I held her other side. Behind us, the school was emptying in pieces, floor by floor, each section seeming to realise what was happening a little later than the one before it.
And every few seconds, another window opened.
My phone started ringing.
The name on the screen made my stomach drop.
Mum.
I answered immediately.
"Mum!"
For half a second, there was only noise on the other end.
A car horn.
Someone shouting.
Then Mum's voice.
"Celeste?! Celeste, where are you!"
"I'm at school!"
"School—" Garbled static cut her words.
"Mum, listen! We're leaving now."
"—Need t— le— Hold on, you said leaving with who?" The connection stabilised.
"Linda and—"
I nearly stumbled over a kerb.
"With friends, we're going to the entrance right now...!"
"Listen to me, do not go to the front gate!"
Her voice was wrong. It was a voice Mum used when she was trying very hard to keep her tears back.
"Mum, what's happening!"
"I... don't know..."
"Are you okay?!"
"I'm okay... Your father... He's trying to get home."
"Where are you, mum?"
"At work."
"Then why are you telling me not to go to the front gate?"
There was a pause.
"Because the news says there are people attacking each other near several schools."
Several.
I looked back again. Another window broke.
"Schools?! What schools!"
"It doesn't matter now! Just get somewhere safe and call me when you do!"
"Mum—"
"Celeste...!"
That stopped me.
Her voice dropped.
"Please."
I swallowed.
"Okay."
"Stay with your friends."
"I will...!"
"Don't help anyone if it means getting close to someone who's acting strange."
That sounded horrible. Normally, my mother would never say something like that.
"Mum..."
"I mean it...! Listen, my daughter..."
A horn sounded somewhere ahead of us.
Ethan's head snapped up.
"That's him, that's him!" For the first time since we'd jumped, something other than fear broke across his face. Relief came first, then disbelief, then something dangerously close to a grin.
At the far end of the roundabout, a black Audi was sitting half on the kerb with its hazards flashing.
"There!" Ethan shouted over the noise, raising his voice as he pointed ahead.
Linda sagged against his shoulder beside me. I think I did too.
The driver's door opened. An older man stepped out and started waving both arms.
"Ethan, over here!"
Ethan immediately picked up the pace. Linda cried out as we nearly dragged her with him.
"Slow down!"
"Sorry!"
I still had Mum pressed to my ear.
"We found the car, mum!"
"Good..."
Her breath came out shakily.
"Get... ...in. Lock... the doors."
"What about you?"
"I'll... call you again..."
"Mum...?"
"...I love you."
The words landed strangely.
"I love you too."
The line went dead. I stared at the screen, dazed.
Then another scream rolled across the school grounds behind us.
His brother shouted from the car.
"Get in! Now!"
And this time, none of us hesitated.
Ethan yanked the rear door open and practically shoved Linda inside before climbing in after her. I followed, dragging my bad ankle over the sill just as his brother slammed the driver's door.
"Seatbelts."
"Just drive!"
"Seatbelts!"
My hands were shaking too badly to find the buckle on the first try.
It clicked. The car moved immediately.
Not smoothly.
My shoulder slammed into Linda's as Ethan's brother reversed hard enough to throw all three of us sideways.
"Jesus!"
"Sorry!" The tyres chirped against the road. He swung the wheel, missed the proper exit entirely and drove straight across the grass beside the roundabout.
"What are you doing?!" Linda shouted.
"The gate's blocked!"
The Audi bounced over the kerb.
Pain shot through my ankle.
"Ow—!"
"Sorry, sorry!"
"Could you stop saying sorry and watch where you're—"
Ethan stopped.
"...What the hell is going on there?"
Nobody answered.
We were coming around the side of the school now, far enough from our block that I could see the main road beyond the fence.
It wasn't moving.
Cars sat crooked across two lanes where people had tried to force their way around one another. One had mounted the pavement. Another had stopped sideways in the middle of a junction with its driver's door hanging open.
A bus stood several metres short of its stop.
People were getting off through both doors.
Running.
Not towards anything.
Just running.
Someone stumbled into the road in front of us, a middle-aged foreigner.
"Fuck!"
Ethan's brother swore and jerked the wheel. As we squeezed past, the man lunged sideways and slapped both palms against the passenger window.
The car lurched, and Linda screamed.
I did too.
He vanished behind us before I could even see his face properly.
"What the fuck?!" Ethan twisted around in his seat.
"Don't look back."
"He was asking for help!"
"I said don't look back!"
His brother's voice cracked hard enough that Ethan actually listened.
We reached the end of the grass and dropped back onto the road with another violent bump.
A police car tore through the junction ahead of us.
Sirens.
Then an ambulance behind it. Then another.
On the opposite pavement, a woman was dragging a little boy by one arm while looking over her shoulder.
A cyclist had abandoned his bicycle in the middle of the road.
Two men were fighting beside a taxi.
At least, I thought they were fighting.
One of them went down.
The other followed him.
And didn't get back up.
My heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my throat.
I looked down at my phone.
Mum.
I called her again.
Calling...
I pressed the phone against my ear.
Once.
The car swerved around an abandoned delivery van.
Twice.
Somewhere behind a row of shop-houses, black smoke was beginning to climb into the afternoon sky.
Three times.
People crowded around a bus stop ahead, except nobody seemed to be waiting for a bus anymore. Half were staring at their phones. The other half were arguing. Someone ran past them with blood down one sleeve and nobody stopped him.
Four.
"Come on..."
Linda had gone quiet beside me.
Ethan too.
Through the window, the city I had travelled through every morning on the way to school was still there.
Same roads. Same shops. Same apartment blocks catching the afternoon sun.
Only now there were people running between them.
Sirens overlapping one another.
Cars mounting pavements.
Someone hammering desperately against the locked doors of a pharmacy.
And farther down the road, something that looked like another person chasing someone between the stopped cars.
Five.
Mum still wasn't answering.
I held the phone tighter.
This morning, I'd worried about homework.
Barely half an hour ago, I'd sat in class surrounded by people who were half-asleep, half-listening, worrying about tests, club activities, who liked who, and what we were going to eat after school.
None of it had felt small then.
Now, watching Eden slip past through the car window, I couldn't stop thinking about the one thing Mum had told me before hanging up.
Stay with your friends.
The call kept ringing.
For the first time in my life, I found myself wondering whether any of us would make it home.