Walking on eggshells around a grocery store at six in the morning was far from how I wanted to start the day.

"If I have one more person shout shit about gun control in my face, I don't know if I'll be able to restrain myself." Dad had said upon asking me to run to the store before school. I had obliged. He'd been holed up in his bedroom for the last week, claiming Mom would be coming back any day, but my gut told me otherwise, and the longer she was away, the more my suspicions were confirmed.

"Everly?"

My head was up from the short list in my hands in seconds, my brain trying to process if I'd hallucinated my name being called or not. I hadn't. Andrew Hamilton stood at the end of the isle, one of his hands grasping a box of Fruit O's on the highest shelf, the other with his phone to his ear. His parents were a few feet behind him, his mother pushing a full cart of food. I'd seen his parents at various baseball games-they'd always been in the stands cheering the boys on. What he was doing four hours away from Lincoln Heights in this old grocery store, I had no idea.

He set the box of cereal in the cart, and in a couple graceful strides I was engulfed in a warm, familiar embrace. I was a little more hesitant in wrapping my arms around his waist, but once I had, I refused to think about the moment I'd have to let go.

Drew's parents had refused to allow him to go to any of the funerals or memorials. From what I'd heard, he'd been pulled out of Lincoln Heights to be homeschooled by his parents as they wouldn't allow him back into a public school and couldn't afford private.

"Evie." he repeats, voice strained. "I missed you."

We had never been close; Drew had been closer to Brady than Miles, but on the few occasions I'd went to hang with the boys at kickbacks or after a game, Drew had always been there. He'd always offer warm smiles and greetings, being the only person to talk to me at our lunch table on the days Miles wasn't at school. The most I'd ever really seen of him was any time the theater kids would pop up and make fun of him for his name.

Pulling away now, I saw that this was far from the happy, carefree boy that'd always been the other half of Brady. His hair, which had been just passed his shoulders that morning had to have been buzzed off at some point over the last six months, as there was no more than a light blonde fuzz on top of his head. Hazel eyes that had once been lively and sharing inside jokes with Brady had since sunken into his face, lips so bitten raw that they looked about as well off as my own.

"I've been texting for months." he says, rubbing my arm comfortingly. "How are you?"

I just stared at him, and for a while I think he felt what I did; the empty, hallow space between us that Brady and Miles had once filled.

"I wanted to go." he continued, eyes filling with tears. "My parents just won't let me out the door without one of them at my side. They didn't think it'd be a good idea to go to the funeral or memorial. They pulled me out the next morning and we moved out here, but obviously we can't afford Oasis so they're homeschooling me."

I nodded, but still couldn't find it in me to speak. It was as if the last few months of progression had haltered, and I'd fell back to square one. With Drew standing in front of me came the reality I tried to outrun every day.

Miles and Brady were gone, they weren't coming back. I'd never see that quirky little half smirk that'd meet Miles' eyes anytime he was conjuring up some ridiculous idea. We'd never have Brady's contagious laughter fill a room again.

"I know. . . I know they're gone." Drew said softly, "But I'm still here, Evie. I saw you a video of what Naomi did to you at the memorial and it was bullshit. You deserved to be there just as much as she did."

I clenched my hands into fists at my sides and he must have noticed because he reached out and took one of my hands, unfurling it and shaking his head.

"I'm here." He repeats. "If you ever need someone to talk to, to chill or hang with, to get away, someone that understands, I'm here, okay?"

I nodded once more and he embraced me again, this time harder than before if that was possible. "I'm so sorry, Evie."

It wasn't until he'd squeezed my shoulder and turned his back to me to join his parents at the end of the isle again that the tears finally fell and I managed to whisper, "Yeah, me too."

*

I had just stepped into my Calculus classroom when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I knew better than to try and pull it out. The teacher in this class was a bitch and if we as much as tried to glance at our phones she'd confiscate them.

Most of my classmates had already filed into the room and were chatting quietly, a few watching me walk past and to the back of the room. By the time the bell rang, my phone was still continuing to buzz in my pocket, and I pulled it out as Ms. Hayler started speaking. Seeing it was Garrett, I silenced the call and my phone.

Whatever it was he needed to talk about could wait until after class.

Only, that had been a horrible assumption, as about five minutes after I'd ignored the call, a winded and sweaty Garrett busted through the front door of the classroom, interrupting Ms. Hayler mid lecture.

"Mr. Brooks! What in the world!"

Recalling what his class was this period, I was honestly a bit impressed. He'd been with Mr. Andrews on the entire other side of the school. He must have run from there.

"Ev," he brushed right by the teacher without as much as glancing in her direction. "we need to get out of here."

"Mr. Brooks, please go back to—"

"Garrett." I whispered, standing, my eyes trying to puzzle together his concerned expression. "What's wrong?"

"Mr. Andrews said—"

Just as he started to explain a loud buzzing sounded through the intercom followed by the sound of a gun. A few of the students in the class jumped as Ms. Hayler made her way to the front door, I fell back, staggering and grasping on to desks.

"No." I gasped, my hands starting to tingle. "No."

"It's a drill." Garrett edged closer. "It's just a drill, Everly. Mr. Andrews warned me like five minutes ago. He said they were supposed to send out emails to our families, but he wasn't sure they did. He told me to find you and get you out of here. But it's. . . it's too late."

Then came another sound of a magazine being unloaded and I collapsed, burying my head in my hands as I covered my ears.

"Everly." Garrett lowered himself down beside me as Ms. Hayler yelled at the students who hadn't heard him to get down or help her push desks against the door. "Hey, look at me."

I tried to latch on to his words, to force myself to believe what he'd said. That it was a drill. That this wasn't real. That we'd run through this just in case, but nothing would happen. But my fight or flight had kicked in. My PTSD was in overdrive. I expected Frankie and Clark to shoot the door and stalk into the room and open fire on everyone in here.

"Everly." Garrett repeated, but a few girls against the back window were cowering, crying. They genuinely felt as I did; they thought this was real. "It's okay."

Garrett had no idea his hands touching my shoulders would trigger the last of reality I was holding on to and I started to kick at him, screaming bloody murder.

"Don't touch me!" I shouted. "Get off of me, Clark!"

I had to have respect for the guy as he didn't back away and watch from afar as most logical people would. Instead, he moved and in one swift motion had restrained me against him, the back of my head pressed against his chest as he held both my arm crossed over my chest, and one of his legs had crossed over both of my to keep them pinned to the floor.

"Let me go!" I tried to squirm free, but his grip was too tight. "I have to get out of here!"

"Everly." Garrett breathed in my ear. "It's not real. It's not real."

But it was. This was all real for me.

I had been in a classroom just like this one six months ago, ready to finish an exam when I'd heard these same gunshots, before my brother had shot our teacher dead and continued to kill my friend and an entire class full of kids before throwing me out in the bloodbath he'd created out in the hallway. For Garrett this was a precaution to ensure everyone knew what to do if they were to ever be faced with such a horrific event. For me, this was fully reliving the hell.

"Garrett." this was another boy, but I didn't turn to see who it was. I felt Garrett tense against me, but he didn't verbally answer the boy. "Is this real? Was someone out there when you came in here?"

Immediately Garrett breathed out shakily and said, "No. It's a drill. I guess maybe they're not supposed to tell us because they want to be sure we act accordingly."

Hearing the words calmed almost the entire room and everyone started speaking in a quiet chatter again until Ms. Hayler quieted them.

"Everly, if I move will you freak out again?" Garrett asked me, but I was hardly listening to what he was saying. My ears were hyper fixated on the sound of the magazine being unloaded outside the door. Every round I let out I winced and whimpered, flickers of Miles, Brady, Frankie, and my classmates dead on the ground flashing before my eyes.

"You're okay." he dropped one of the arms restraining mine to my stomach and hugged me against him. He jolted the second there was shouting in the hallway and the sound of hundreds of bullets being unloaded at once. A few of the girls who'd found comfort in Garrett's words started crying, unsure if what Garrett had been told was factual.

He moved slightly and said to Ms. Hayler, "This is a drill, right?"

She opened her mouth to respond when pounding sounded on the door. A few of our classmates let out sobs that were muffled by their hands. I started to thrash in Garrett's grip again, both my arms growing tingly and numb.

"You have to let me go!" I snapped. "He's going to kill us, Garrett. He's going to kill us!"

My words caused a momentarily lapse in his thinking and I was able to get free, forcing myself shakily to my feet. I only made it about a foot away before he managed to catch my waist from behind, throwing a hand over my mouth.

"Everly, stop!" he hissed in my ear. "Going out there, whether this is a drill or not, isn't going to save anybody."

I broke free again, but instead of throwing myself toward the desks in front of the door as I initially planned, I turned and looked up at Garrett.

I hadn't realized I'd scratched his face until I saw the blood trickling from just under his right eye, but he didn't even bother to reach up and wipe it away, he was staring down at me in a mix of anger and concern, blue eyes roaming my face in anticipation of me trying to run for the door again.

"You're ok." he reached out and touched the strands of my hair that were sticking to my cheeks with tears. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

I wanted to tell him not to say it, to explain it was that very thought process that resulted in Miles' brains all over the cafeteria floor, but I couldn't find it in me to say anything at all. I felt drained, as if the thrashing and panic attack threatening to ravage through my body had taken the little energy I had.

"Garrett, get down!" one of the boys shouted again. Garrett and I both looked to the door, where a gun could be seen through the thin paper covering the window. In a quick, last second decision, Garrett yanked me down with him, impulsively throwing his hand over my mouth to keep my cries from filling the silent room.

Once the figure stepped away, there was a loud bang and the handle started to wiggle in place. I started to hyperventilate again.

"It's just a drill." Garrett whispered but the look in his eyes told me he wasn't so sure anymore. Feeling my terrified eyes on him, he sat down under a desk and pulled me closer to him, restraining me again, but this time not as roughly. This time he also placed my hands over my ears, and leaned in to say. "Cover them. I'm right here. Nothing is going to happen."

Now that I was so alert, my eyes scoured the room, and I felt my hands growing more tingly by the second. This was the same image that'd been living in the back of my mind for months; the girls all sobbing and the boys holding them and assuring it was okay while tears remained in their own eyes.

"Garrett, I want to text my parents." I breathed, but he was shaking his head.

"No, it's just a drill. It's just a God Damn drill."

Then, as if on cue, the door was pushed open and the girls in the room all screamed in unison, cowering, and covering their heads. Garrett, being the idiot he was, started to rise, putting himself in front of me and half a dozen girls, still in a crouch.

"No." I pleaded through the knot in my throat, trying to grasp his elbow, but he shook me off with a quick, warning look over his shoulder.

Then the lights were back on, and we were staring at a S.W.A.T member in front of the door. He said something into his walkie and looked around the room. He looked ready to say something, but Garrett stood and threw his hands in a gesture toward the hallway behind him.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Mr. Brooks—" Ms. Hayler said, but she looked a little shook herself.

Garrett didn't bat an eye and stood so he was eye level with the man in front of the door. "What was that? You call that a drill? Do you even think about how traumatizing that is for us?"

"It's to ensure that if the time comes—" the man started, but Garrett cut him off.

"No! Stop it with that bullshit!" he shouts. "How about instead of putting us through this sick torture you do something about the mental health epidemic in this country! Do something about gun laws! Get those automatics off the streets. What's it going to take for this shit to change? How many more of us must die? How many more of these "drills" will we have to sit through?"

Every word that left his mouth hegrew more confident until he was standing toe to toe with law enforcement, handsclenched at his sides. For a moment the entire room held their breath inanticipation of what Garrett's next move would be, but he took a step back andcrossed the room to where I was cowering beneath the desk. By the time he'dhelped me to my feet, a few more S.W.A.T members and the principal were outsidethe classroom in the hallway. Garrett slipped passed, keeping his hand tightlyaround my arm and led me to the front doors of the school without looking back.