The Well's End by Seth Fishman Page A

voluntary lockdown.” There’s a huge swelling uproar from the crowd. Today is Friday, and half the class probably has trips planned to Vail or Aspen and their families’ winter condos. You’d think by the level of indignation that we’ve been told to eat mud or something. No one gives a crap about what’s really going on, but told they can’t go skiing, suddenly they think the teachers are fascists. A few kids ball up paper and toss it toward the stage. One hits Rob on the head. He flicks his hair out of his eyes and settles lower into his seat.
    â€œSo they
are
always like this.”
    I see that Brayden has moved to the seat next to me during the chaos. He’s leaning in, a small grin on his face, conspiratorial. It’s funny how much you can see when you’re close to someone. I can’t help but notice the beauty mark under his left eyelid, like a counter to the scar on his jawline. Or the fact that his lips are moist, not dry like most boys’ during the winter. Or that his hair is long enough to reveal the beginnings of a cowlick. The small bits that make him a whole. Maybe I should be hungover more often, if this is how observant I am. Ugh, what if he’s the same way? What if he can smell my barf breath?
    â€œWho, the teachers?” I ask him, confused. I can feel Jo tense next to me, straining to hear what we’re saying. Rob’s less subtle and swings his head down to listen.
    â€œThe students. Don’t you remember our chat last night?”
    I remember him getting kicked out of Odessa’s party. Things going sour for him just like he predicted. “They only get this way when you take away the gifts Mommy and Daddy bought.” Of course, this kid doesn’t live here, so he’s from somewhere else—he’s probably rich himself, and I’m putting my size-six shoe all up in my mouth.
    â€œI call mine Mum and Dada.”
    I can’t help it and let out a burst of laughter, which, I must say, is worth the jackknife to my headache.
    â€œMiss Kish!” The dean’s shout finally bursts through the noise of protesting students. “From them, yes, I get it. But from
you
? What if your father is in danger? What if
you
were in danger and your father had no way of knowing? And yet you
laugh
! All of you laugh!”
    The place goes silent, everyone staring at me, and the wave of fear and embarrassment hits me at the same time. I can’t breathe, and I double over in shame, which makes my head and stomach hurt and matters much worse. He’s just making an example of me to the other students, but he’s right. The siren went off here, but Dad seemed to know what was going on. And here I am, ignoring both my father and the dean, laughing in their faces. I try to stand, and Mr. Banner comes over and helps me. I can see him scowling at the dean. He takes me out a side door into the cold and scoops up some snow and gives it to me to suck on, an odd gesture that somehow is exactly what I need and probably wouldn’t have been done by any other teacher. Jo’s there, and so is Rob, but not Brayden. Won’t ever be speaking to him again.
    â€œDon’t worry about the dean, Mia,” Mr. Banner says. He’s got one hand on my shoulder, and he crouches in front of me, forcing me to look him in the eye. “Nothing’s going on at the Cave. Nothing’s going to be a problem here, either, okay? Griffin is just a testy old—”
    â€œBut why is the army here, then?” My voice doesn’t feel like my own. It’s weak and sad and soft, and it dribbles from my mouth like spit. I don’t know why I’m all worked up, but the sirens are still going, and I can’t help but think of Mrs. Applebaum and the way she looked. Dean Griffin said
lockdown,
but what does that
mean
?
    I can hear the dean’s voice through the brick wall. Now he’s telling us that class is canceled but will