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Worst day.

First: Drama. The unnecessarily dramatic kind.

Second: Senioritis. The overwhelming, paralyzing kind.

Third: Pain. The razor-dragging-itself-down-my-insides kind.

Fourth: Lock down. The "This is not a drill" kind.

It takes a lot to scare me, but that message over the intercom fifteen minutes before the end of the school day did it for me. Heart fluttering into my throat; breathe, take control, you're in charge. Kids into the corner, sitting, quiet. Door locked, lights out: check, check.
Wait.
Minutes slip by.
"Ignore any bells or fire alarms"
More minutes.
- Ms. S?- -Yes?- -I need to go downstairs.- -I can't let you go downstairs. Your kids are okay; they're being taken care of.-
Sighs of frustration.
More minutes.
Noise from somewhere, no gunshots - good sign?
Minutes, minutes, minutes....

"All clear."

Release.

Breathe.

And the trembling subsides, heart descends to chest, sweat dries.



This year, this year.... We had weekly bomb threats for a while. More fights, more threats, a stabbing, this....

Oh, but it's May. Ya casi se ve la luz.