Sweet Dandelion - Page 122
Lachlan: Yeah, sure I’ll give you one tomorrow.
Me: Thanks.
Lachlan: It’s not a problem, Dani.
I tuck my phone in my pocket, and decide to set some plates out and two glasses of water. By the time I do there’s a knock with the take-out. I grab the two paper bags, sign the slip, and start divvying out the Greek food Sage ordered. If there’s one thing that can be said for our take-out habit, it’s that we do eat a variety.
Pizza will always be my favorite, though.
Sage emerges from the hall with damp hair and red-rimmed eyes.
“Thanks, D.” He presses a kiss to my cheek, giving me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s a bad habit to apologize for things we have no point in apologizing for.”
“Stop being so smart,” he jokes, taking one of the plates, ruffling my hair with his free hand. I reach up and smooth it down, giving him some epic side-eye he misses.
We park our butts on the couch with our dinner and glasses of water.
Holding my cup up, I give him a small smile. “Cheers?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. He grabs his glass, clinking it against mine. “Cheers, D.”
Chapter Forty-Two
“I really don’t understand what we’re having an assembly for,” I grumble behind me to Ansel. We arrived at first period only to be sent to the gymnasium for a mandatory assembly. It wasn’t planned or we would’ve known about it. There’s a low rumble tumbling through the school from the murmurs of hushed conversation. “Do you know what it’s about?”
“No clue.” He looks around like there might be some sort of hint on the walls.
I hear whispers of excitement, like maybe there’s a surprise guest. I hear someone say something about perhaps a famous alumni visiting.
The dread sitting low in my stomach says it’s something more.
“I’m sure it’s okay.” He reaches for my hand giving it a small squeeze before letting go.
I hyperventilate as we enter the gym and the entire student body fills up the vibrant red bleachers. I freeze, and Ansel waits behind with me. There’s no way I can sit in that crowd of people. I’m doing better, but not that much better.
Ansel stays by my side, waiting for the seats to fill in until we can grab a spot in the front row.
The conversations around us are so loud I’m tempted to cover my ears with my hands.
Mr. Gordon enters the gymnasium along with the vice principal and Mr. Taylor. I’m so stressed I can’t even take in how good Mr. Taylor looks, with his fitted black slacks and charcoal button down. His badge hangs from the lanyard around his neck, swaying back and forth as he walks. He stops beside Mr. Gordon, so both he and the vice principal flank the man.
What is going on?
He starts speaking and I reach for Ansel’s hand squeezing the life out of it.
I hear words like active shooter.
No casualties reported.
Minimal injuries.
The police are handling it.
You’re safe.
But we’re not safe. It’s happening again. At a school only a few miles from here. It’s happening all the fucking time and no one is doing anything to stop it.
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