We've locked ourselves in the band room closet because a kid brought a gun to school. There has to be at least forty of us. I look over at my friend, who's texting me because some guy is all up in her space. She makes a face at me. I try not to laugh. Someone's saying the kid got caught already. Someone else is saying the kid is still walking the hallways. The room is all stifled breaths and anxious foot tapping. The guy huddles closer to my friend. She mouths, "HELP ME." And I can't help it. I laugh.
Khalid Mitchell is a writer, and also maybe a poet? He isn't sure. He's still testing the waters.