not okay {ziam}

twelve

"hello... uh — morning." she swallows her peachless whisper, blinking hard, "i apologize for being late, as many teachers have been made aware of a change of plans today... the, uh, head teacher has advised the entire school for an assembly in the auditorium during this class period."

she states with one hand grasping her wrist, looking at us feebly. the entirety of the class raises from their seats without her usual persuasion, the chairs screeching across the cork flooring. straightening my shirt, we all stand in a line and follow miss peters out of the door, ambling down the halls with ambiguous questions floating to the surface of our minds. the whole school is now hanging around in their class groups, gaping and humming to one another. as if someone might just have the answer to what is happening.

the auditorium is quite large, with the velvet curtains across the theatre stage closed and a microphone standing lonesome on the platform. i sit where our class is designated, next to a concerned, red-headed girl who somehow looked familiar. but she hadn't been who i was looking for, as almost-immediately i notice a missing person and one particular chair empty across a hall packed with hundreds of students. gazing around at the members of staff standing along the perimeters of the room, my eyes catch onto a certain navy blue cluster of men. police.

i can almost hear the words i only wish to ask aloud, ringing through me — why are we all here? why does everyone look frightened? why don't i know what's going on?

i hear the clacking of the principal's heels before i finally see her walking amongst the crowd. she is dressed immaculately, her chestnut hair cut short around her neck and her glasses hanging low on her nose. she has papers in her hand, shuffling them through her clasp, as she climbs the couple stairs towards the podium. the woman stands tall and places her sheets down, leaning forward into the microphone with a firm voice, "please quieten down, students."

a wave of stillness washes over the crowd as i heave a deep breath into my lungs. the principal adjusts the mic, running a quick hand through her hair and trying not to crack under the pressure of the entire room. everything just feels so undeniably heavy — as if i'm falling down a rabbit hole and can't find the light. the policemen are securely lined across the room with crossed arms and lips held in tight frowns. they don't falter, they don't stare at anyone except the head teacher in charge, they don't give anything away.

the woman in spotlight releases a breath through her nostrils, staring down at her papers.

"now, as some of you may been made aware of, i'm afraid we have been given some devastating news. the entire school board has made the decision to notify our peers due to the severity of this incident and if perhaps anyone would have any answers to some misunderstandings that have in this current investigation taking place. police and counselors are on stand-by for information and guidance some of you may have on this situation that completely shocks and saddens us all." her voice is almost monotonous as everything starts to click in all of the worst ways. her eyes close briefly and she chooses to disband what she has written down, mouth opening with tangible affliction.

i find myself reeling, like my heart might just tear a hole through my chest and leave me to drain of all my blood. i audibly hear the principal swallow, gripping the sides of the wooden podium and trying to stop the rattle that rumbles through the audience.

she lets her eyes flicker across the room and i can almost see the glisten in them from the distance i sit at. my hands feel numb with the palpable restlessness that hangs across the room, as she reveals her sincere anguish with just a few sentences, "never in all of my years of teaching have i ever experienced such a horrific occurrence and... and... i-i'm completely heartbroken by what i have to announce today." she releases and i'm examining the room, finger nails digging into the flesh of my knees.