The special "All hell's breaking loose somewhere" siren ringtone went off at about 4 a.m. but I was so dead to the world I didn't even hear it.

I initially chose that sound because it was so piercing and annoying that I believed it would rouse me at once if Mama Sadie had fallen down or felt sick or was having any kind of emergency. Or if something heinous was happening at work.

But my body had shut down after being pushed way beyond everyday tired, so it took a long time to feel that nagging squeal going off over and over again right next to me on the side table.

But I finally flopped a limp hand over on top of my cell and slid it over onto the bed while my mind was coming back from the depths. And when I was finally conscious enough to open my eyes and manipulate the thing, I saw the MAYDAY text bubble which we'd been told never to use unless there was a shooter in one of the buildings.

So I got a jolt of adrenaline strong enough to sit me up in bed and use a shaky finger to tap the link to a .pdf memo that read:

"All staff please report to the Whitman High auditorium at once.

Over half of the teaching staff has called in sick. We will be asking certified staff to cover today's classes. Non-certified staff will be called upon to run the district office until further notice."

After blurting out a knee-jerk, "What the actual fuck?" I did a little Catholic sign of the cross thing, knowing just how blessed I was to be non-certified and therefore saved from being thrown to the lions—y'all know what you did to substitute teachers. Don't even try to front.

And a lot of the people who were going to be in the trenches that day hadn't been in a classroom since they graduated from high school. Don't even get me started talking about what the administrators who'd suspended or otherwise disciplined some of these kids for years were going to go through.

I managed to sling my legs over the side of the bed and force myself up on my feet some kind of way, thanking God that I had all kinds of food from the weekend gathering that I could throw into some Sistema containers right quick because the other district admins probably hadn't thought of meals at all.

I sent out an "EMP" message to my food service staff right quick, too. I'd created a whole "emergency meal prep" process that could get enough bag lunches prepared for all the kids in both schools pretty quick. But normally there would've been non-certified staff there to jump in so I wasn't sure how well it would work under these circumstances...

I also grabbed two big boxes full of packaged storebought pastries—another gift from the gathering. Set them right by the door with my personal stash to take along for all the grumpy people who'd be filing into that auditorium with their stomachs growling.

And just as I was trudging into the bathroom to get my groggy ass showered and dressed for battle, AJ's pretty face popped into my mind which got me all lathered up in a different way. Normally I would've handled those feelings with my handheld shower head—don't judge me, dammit. I kept my priorities straight, okay?

So, I drove off a little while later bobbing my head to my girl Jill Scott singin' "Is it the waaaaaay, you looooove me baybay..." Leaning all into the feels I was feelin' that morning despite the dire circumstances that had me on the road at 4:45 a.m. when all I wanted to do was fantasize about waking up next to Bae-J someday soon...

But when I got to the district offices there was this big old mob of locals—new and native—screaming back and forth at each other while a couple of the dudes from the Custodial department tried to help Security keep them separated.

I drove past that little skirmish to my old portable. Squinting to try and see if there were any stray bodies out that way. But they must've known none of the real decision makers were way out there, so the coast was clear.

Clarice was inside already, hunkered down beneath one of the windows looking all pouty and pitiful. Hair still wet, no makeup on.

"You think they're gonna be shootin' out there, Clary?" I teased her.

"This is America," she said.

Which gave me pause, I have to admit. But I went on over to my desk and set down my bag of goodies. "I got pastries!"

She gave me wide eyes and said, "You can't be serious!"

But I went over to our little kitchen counter Keurig and said, "The usual?"

And something in my voice must've soothed some of the fear away, because she got up, peeked between the blinds right quick, and then came over and sighed. "I knew it was going to blow up sooner or later! You can't just keep people in the dark like that—someone's gonna squeal."

"What have you heard? You always know everything before we do."

She smirked and shoved both our "Same Shit, Different Day" cups toward the Keurig. "You're the one they've kinda hired already."

"You know that for sure?"

"Nobody knows anything for sure since they hired those corporate people. That's how this happened!"

I chose decaf because I didn't need to get all jittery just as the reality of the situation began to truly sink in. And as the noise from the clashing mobs started getting a lot louder all of a sudden, a series of loud bangs on our door made us both startle and gasp.

And an unfamiliar voice bellowed, "Shuttin' it down! Grab your gear'n' go!"

So I went to look out of the window while Clary ran to her desk and grabbed up her things.

And when I snatched open the door, this ruddy faced, crew cut bulldog of a guy grunted, "Alla buildings are closed 'til further notice. Bomb threat."

Clary backed up from the door then with a shivery, whispery, "Whaaaat?!"

And he tried to calm her with: "Probably kids takin' advantage, but you never know these days."

But I said, "Walk her on out to her car, okay?" and waved Clary out. But he stood there at the bottom of the steps like a bodyguard until I let him walk me to the lot, too.

I drove off trying to figure out what to do next—the mob was definitely growing. But I decided to head for the high school in case the district staff might be sheltering in place or something—I don't know what I thought I was doing. I was still so sleepy and stunned.

But there were roadblocks at all the intersections by the school. And the cop I finally rolled down my window to speak to just waved me off and barked, "Back it up! Let's go!"

So, I U-turned on back the way I'd come. Wound up at Dunkin' where there were all kinds of district and school people milling around in the lot like zoned out zombies.

We weren't used to things like this in Whitman, so all we knew to do was mob up and cling to one another, basically. I caught the arm of Jennelle Barnes, one of the high school attendance clerks that I knew from my family's church, and said, "What in the world?"

And she shook her headful of blonde, yarnish looking dread extensions and said, "Girl, it's a mess. Wun no way we was gon' be able to figure out where to put all them kids without no teachers."

"They all called in?"

"There was only four gonna show up at the elementary. Less than that at the high school."

"So now they'll get fired for sure, right?"

"Lot of 'em was retirin' or was gonna quit at the end of the year anyway. Cause they figured they wun gon' be kept on. But you don't need this kinda nonsense after all you been through, honey. Mama Sadie would be spittin' fire if she was still here, wouldn't she? All these new people messin' up everything!"

I sighed and looked out at the first rays of sun glowing above the mountains in the distance as if the world as we knew it weren't coming to an end. Sadie probably would've been pretty upset.

Or she would've said something way wiser than any of us could think of. She'd always had a way of seeing the world more clearly than most—that kind of wisdom was becoming more and more rare just when we needed it more and more.

So I just asked, "How did these parents know they'd called in?"

"Website," she said, tossing a hand with a tsk. "Started seeing all these names on that list that tells you whose classes were having subs that day. You remember how they voted to have that made public to help them convince everybody our teachers were so unreliable that we needed to merge wit that other district. Pretty soon they'll be mergin' both towns, too. Wit all them new subdivisions they be buildin'..."

A cop car booped at us a few times. And the cop inside used his loudspeaker thing to yell, "Y'all go on home now! Superintendent's orders!"

And just as Jennelle ran off crying "Glory, hallelujah" like we were back in church, I heard the new AJ ringtone I'd chosen. No worries, it was just a cute trilling noise, not some kind of love song that would scare him off.

And I heard this husky, not quite awake yet voice ask, "The grandparents called me scared that there was some kind of riot at the schools or—wait, you're not there, are you?"

He was reacting to some more cop car boops. So I said, "We had to come in early because the whole teaching staff called in sick. And now there are all these pissed off parents out here--"

"Get away from there! Where are you exactly?"

"Oh, you gon' come Spidey me away, son?" I teased.

"I will if you give me any backtalk about it. This is America! There could be all kinds of guns out there!"

Could not believe I'd just heard that a second time.

But I said, "Don't worry about me. I'll call you when I get—oh man, gotta go," just as the head of HR, the guy who always looked like he'd been sucking a lemon, came strutting up looking like he was ready to punch somebody this time.

I flinched as he roared, "That ridiculous woman's in the bathroom crying like her dog just died! Put in a good word for me this summer while you're working over there, wouldja? They seem to value your expertise at least!"

I sputtered out, "Who's crying?" Trying to regroup after being run up on like that.

And he hissed, "The so-called Superintendent! Who left me and the clerks to send out all those messages while she ran about like a chicken with its head chopped off!"

Two more boops made him smirk, throw hands skyward and trot off to...wherever. And as I trotted over to my Mercedes, I dialed up AJ to let him console me some more.

Only to hear a sincere but obviously rushed: "Hey, love, listen, I've got a car here waiting—long story. I'll call you back when we're on the road."

The first sign that things weren't going to go quite the way I'd hoped.

The second was my phone almost literally blowing up immediately afterwards with a tsunami of missed call and text messages...