Camp IX | ✓

16

     Silence. A thick, heavy silence filled the room. It descended like a sheet and settled over all of us. No one moved, no one breathed, afraid to shatter the silence like a fragile mirror. 

     The screen on which the invasion of New York City had been broadcasted moments before remained dark. Twenty four phantom students stared back at us from the blackness. Their eyes wide open in fear, unmoving.

     Then the phones started ringing. The myriad of ringtones shocked us all into motion. I reached for my own phone as the screen lit up with my father's image. My fingers shook as I pressed to answer, not knowing what to expect on the other end. 

     "Nova," my father's normally calm, steady voice now shook. "I'm going to get Milo from school and your mother is running to the store to stock up on some food. I want you at home as soon as you can get there."

     News traveled fast it seemed I completed sourly. I took a shaky breath and told my father I'd be home soon.

     With a set plan in the whirlwind of uncertainty, I shoved everything into my backpack and stood to sling it over my shoulder. All around me, my peers started to do the same thing. Some bolted for the door at a run while others tried to look less panicked. It didn't work. Everywhere I looked it was the same thing, fear. The silence that had filled the room minutes before was now broken. People's phones were still ringing. Words exchanged over them were clipped and guarded. No one wanted to be the first to cry.

     As I stepped into the hall, I felt like I should have been more panicked then I was. Yes, my hands shook and I pressed them against my thighs as I walked but I wasn't truly panicking. Other people in the halls were running, other's clung to their friends sobbing. That was panic and that's what I should have looked like but as I hurried down the stairs to the second story, it dawned on me that what I was feeling felt more like stagefright than anything. Like I was a part of a play and my scene had come.

     As I sped down another set of stairs and out into the parking lot, I called Blaze. He picked up almost immediately. 

     "What are you going to do since your parents are out of town?" I asked quickly dodging a car that went flying out of the parking lot.

     Blaze's parents traveled a lot for work and this week they'd just so happened to have a business meeting in Los Angles.

     "Uh...I was thinking..." Blaze sounded rattled and distracted. "Honestly Nova I don't know. I don't want to go home and be there alone. I don't know where my father keeps his guns let alone how to shoot one."

     He kept talking, quickly spiraling out of control. His fear dripped off every word he spoke and I heard his breathing speed up. He was going to have a panic attack.

     "Blaze!" I cut in. "Meet me at my truck now. You're coming home with me."

     He stopped his rambling. Silence filled the line. Around me, cars honked and peeled out of the parking lot. The air smelled like burnt rubber and exhaust.

     "Blaze? Are you there?" I asked transferring the phone to my left hand and pulled out my keys.

     "I'll be there soon," he whispered and hung up.

     I'd reached my truck by now. Moving through the parking lot on a good day while everyone was calm was hard enough. Now? I was surprised I wasn't smeared on someone's windshield.

     Unlocking the truck, I found that my hands were shaking less. Maybe by taking control of a small situation like the one involving Blaze, I had calmed myself down. I tossed my backpack on the seat next to me and clambered into the cab. I felt the truck come to life under me when I turned the key and despite everything, I smiled.