Outside the School Gates (1st Ch)

The whole day was waiting for the evening. During lunch period, while the high school students mingled amongst themselves under what should have been a sunny sky, the air was heavy and grey. Bright pink and baby blue Lacoste polos matched with pleated ironed skirts decorated the winding walkways and picnic tables like bits of torn-off cotton candy. Normally students would stay outside til the very last bell, but the looming grey sky and the faint, sulfur-like stench in the air was already driving them back inside.
         My friends and I of course- me, Moira, Lulu, and Mackey, had been sitting under one of the wrought iron archways leading down to the sports fields. Of all the things that happened that afternoon, it was this that still stands out as one of my sharpest memories. Maybe it’s because I remember how utterly content and lazy I had felt, sitting there in our own spot, not worrying for once about exams. Even the gossip level had slowed; after a week of exams with one more to go, nobody really had the energy to scrounge around for tidbits. I mean, what would they find anyway?
         Lulu, probably the deepest of us all, told me later that she remembers it so well because it had been the last time we were all so innocent of what was going on around us, right outside the school gates. None of us could have been able to grasp what was going to happen.
         There we were, four student sophomores, the perfect example of Cambridge Preparatory School. Moira was explaining something from AP Pysch to Mackey, I was reviewing Latin stems, and Lulu was reading a long list of typed notes about the Scientific Revolution. At least, for the first 30 seconds this is what we did. Now, a full minute and a half later, only Lulu still had her eyes on the notes.
         “Tell me again why you are studying European History?” asked Moira, her clear blue eyes full with exasperation. “You’re like in the top five of the whole grade!” Lulu replied with some nerdy response, making the rest of us laugh. She smiled and lowered her notes, hoping now to gain another laugh somehow. I had just recently been able to get Lulu into our clique, and while she was glad to be here, I knew everyone was hoping she would turn out to be a little more fun and wild than this perfect A+ valedictorian. Today she had an elegant French braid with little golden wisps pulling out around her face – pretty and intellectual. Typical Lulu.
         “Well, I don’t think any of us should be studying. Especially not me for English” I said, motioning to the untouched stack of perfect, blue-Sharpied flashcards. With the grades I had for any class writing-based, I could afford to be a little arrogant. Did anyone else in our clique have a 103 % in AP Literature? I stretched and arched my back, running my fingers through my thick dark blond hair. Mackey was trying to get Moira to keep quizzing her, but Moira, who rarely studied for anything, let alone turn in work, was gazing at the group of sophomore guys playing soccer-tennis in the courtyard. I knew who she was watching, because I loved to watch him too – Josh _____. She looked back at me.
         “You know whats-his-face keeps looking over here at you” she said with a mischievous gleam in her eye.
         “Who? Sade? Yeah, I’m sure.” I didn’t want to think about Sade and ruin this happy mood. I didn’t want to think about his black cocoa skin or the way he handled the soccer ball on the fields. Mackey had finally given up trying to memorize Pysch theories. She asked,
         “What is up with you two? You flirted all last year and now you like ignore each other.” This was true. Again, probably having something to do with why I didn’t want to talk about him. Or think about him. Or even look his way. I tried to shake it off. I ran my hand through my hair again, hoping I would get Josh’s attention instead. As usual, his gaze was almost always at the soccer ball. Moira and I had spent too many hours on IM and during Study Hall lamenting about it. Mackey snorted. She out of all of us probably had the most sense boy-wise. That is, she was good friends with a bunch of the soccer tennis hotties, but had no interest and they didn’t seem to either.
         From the AP Building the first bell began to ring. Last year as a freshman I had learned the true name of the building, A1 out of A2, A3, and A4, was called the AP among the students because every class in there was taught at an ‘advanced placement’ level. The more classes you had in the AP Building, the higher in social society you became. Obviously, our group had every single class in the AP except for the Arts. Those were an exception-you had to go down the walkways to get to the Arts Building, or simply A Building.
         We stayed where we were a little longer as a faint breeze began to play up. The sulfur stench suddenly became stronger, and as Lulu rapidly checked on her laptop through coughs and gags, she said it was due to a huge car crash down on the highway.
         “I never knew an accident could smell this bad,” choked Moira as we began to gather our school books.
         “It says there was a big truck carrying some types of chemical, and in the crash it completely exploded… Oh my God. There four cars involved plus the truck… the highway is going to be completely backed up. They have to tape off the entire area to try to clean all the stuff that spilled…” By now we were all standing around Lulu listening.
“Well,” said a voice gloomily behind us, “I guess this means none of us are going home early after exams today.” It was Rose, a pretty, Spanish addition to our multi-lingual clique. Contrary to her, I had no problem with staying after. Neither, I knew, did Lulu or Moira.
Out of all the girls here, Rose was one of the ones I liked the least. She was the extreme flirt, and had three boys - not including her boyfriend - all constantly doting on her. Her shiny black hair, which today she had straightened, was in need of a good brush - we all knew she had just spent the second half of our lunch hour with some cutie Junior in the back stair case by the library. She giggled and pulled out a comb.
    Hiding a sigh, I turned and looked out at the fields as I waited for the others. I loved standing here, right at the edge of the stairways that all led down to all the fields. My first day here as a freshman, alone and not knowing anyone, I had seen this and thought it looked like a soft green patchwork quilt. Directly in front of me was the lacrosse field, surrounded by the running track. A path ran along the track and broke away to lead to the JV soccer field directly behind the lacrosse field. To the left of the second field was the kickball field, and on the right was the cross country track going out to the diamond baseball fields. On the right of the lacrosse and directly in front of the baseball diamond were the eight tennis courts.      Surrounding all of this was what the students called “the Woods”. I knew the cross country track looped around in there, but had never been on it. The Woods had quite a reputation. It was where you went to exchange drugs and alcohol, meet with the opposite sex when all the back staircases were unavailable, and throw the occasional party. Again, I had never been there. Moira and Lulu, who both ran track and cross country, ran through it every afternoon during practice. I made a mental note to try to go running with them some day. 
    The most important sport aspect of Cambridge Prep besides the three basketball courts in the far building, Building C, was the Varsity Soccer. That field was in the very front of the school, with two stairways leading down so it looked and felt like you were watching from an auditorium or arena. Cambridge Preparatory School did not have a football team. No stupid jocks for us. Initially it was depressing, because that meant there was no homecoming, but, I thought, as I gazed at the soccer ball bouncing perfectly between the guys, I was ok with the soccer theme instead.

    The five of us were some of the last people to go inside; the last third bell was ringing as we opened the doors. From the front entrance where we were standing, you had a perfect view of the varsity soccer field and beyond it the wrought iron gateway at the end of the gravel driveway. There were no screaming sirens or flashing red and blue lights, but you could see in the distance a small haze of smoke against the grey sky where the crash lay below.
  Fifteen minutes later, sitting at my desk with my AP English exam lying facedown in front of me, I was totally focused. I knew our teacher, Ms. Treaber, had given us a hard essay prompt, the ones where you can argue a hundred different ways and never get anywhere. I on the other hand, always believed there is a right answer for everything, it just depends on how good your argument is. I believe differently now.
“…You will have 20 minutes for this portion of the test. Begin.” I was in “my zone” as Moira calls it, flying through the exam, writing Cs, As, Bs, with total ease. This is what I really excelled in. Writing just came naturally to me. I was on question 17 when suddenly my consciousness of my surroundings came back to me. I looked up. There was nothing but the soft scratching of black pens on the paper. I bent my head back down, but at a faint sound from outside in the hall I immediately came back up again. The door to our classroom was open, and Ms. Treaber was gone. I was sure she left while I was shooting down answers, but the slightest hint of fresh air stealing through the door way must have been what made me lose my focus.
I looked down at number 17 again. ‘In Beowulf, how does the author portray a sense of heroism against the face of certain doom’? I looked down. It was probably C. I leaned back down, put my pen to the paper, and was distracted by the sounds of hurried footsteps outside our classroom. It was our head of school, Mr. Shaney. There had been rumors earlier this year that Shaney and Treaber had been getting a little too involved in each other’s business, but not many people had believed it. The head of school having an affair with that mean skinny woman? More like her having an affair with an older student. (Which has happened before, but never mind). They were apparently unaware that they classroom door was open as they whispered together.
    By this time my focus was completely going out the window, and I leaned to my left to try to catch what they were saying. Their voices were low, urgent. I raised my eyebrows. Maybe they were having an affair…maybe someone saw them! As I strained my ears, along with three or four other students now, there were more sounds coming from down the hall in exam classrooms. Classrooms that should have been utterly silent. I checked the clock on the wall. Shit! Only 3 minutes left for the exam. Hurriedly I answered them all, half-listening to the conversation going outside. When I was done, about half of the other students were glancing around now, eyes flicking to the open door, the windows, and the clock on the wall. Only one minute left. The two adults outside had suddenly stopped talking – it felt like they had reached a conclusion. I heard Ms. Treaber saying
  “No, no they couldn’t possibly”-  Shaney cut her off with a sharp remark.
    “…have to go tell the rest of the staff…don’t know how serious the situation really…”
    I never heard the end of this sentence. Out of the corner of my eye, a hefty black shape had just moved across the window. Sarah Phillips, a sweet, easily distracted girl, who had the seat next to the window, jumped and nearly fell out of her chair. I stared at the window, willing the thing to come back so I could see it. It was probably one of the guys working on the lawn, or a technician or something. There was no other good explanation – so why was I feeling so uneasy? I looked at the clock, and saw it was two minutes past the exam limit. For another minute we all sat there, some students occasionally looking back over their work, others with wide eyes. Everyone was tense.
  Suddenly there was a loud beeping, and my left pocket vibrated. I jumped, so did everyone else, and I glanced furtively out the door. Ms. Treaber, now talking to the European History teacher across the hall, had just reached out to shut it, and through the window I saw Lulu. Her face was pale and confused; she motioned for me to read the text message. I pulled out my black Chocolate, not caring that most of the class was watching me now.
It was a forward from Mackey .Quickly I tried to remember where she was. A second later, I remembered – she and Moira were in AP Pysch, taking their exam, what our class should be doing right now. It read:
somethins goin on. there r ppl outside the school
    The noises outside had suddenly gotten louder. I could hear classes of students leaving the class rooms, and the sounds of chairs scraping, doors slamming, and keys locking seemed to be much louder than was natural. Sarah Phillips, who had crept back up to the window, said
  “hey you guys look outside! Who are those people?” Her soft voice echoed after all the silence. A couple people looked up from their own text messages, and I joined them by the windows. From where the classroom was situated, we had a view of half the courtyard including the long walkway to the A Arts Building, and a portion of the lacrosse field. The wrought iron archway my friends and I had sat under was directly in front of us.
  “Oh my God what are they doing?” asked someone. In the courtyard, swarming out in all directions like black ants from a center point, were men, all dressed in black and armed with large guns strapped to their backs.