28

Miss Dombrowski looked like she was trying not to look scared. She had been reading Edgar Alan Poe's "The Black Cat" to her sixth grade class, as a special October treat, when the fire alarm began to ring. The class, that had been enraptured by the first "adult" story most of them had heard, automatically stood, as they had been trained, but Miss Dombrowski froze, a crease appearing between her arching brows. She didn't let go of the book, but twitched her head towards the speaker grille next to the clock.

Though no one had told him yet in his young life, Mark was very good at reading people, and he read surprise, then realization, then fear in his teacher's face. Meanwhile, the class lined up and waited for Miss Dombrowski to lead them out onto the school's lawn for a few moments of outdoor freedom.

Miss Dombrowski, however, was not leading them anywhere yet. As the class was lining up, their teacher had put down the book and gotten her purse from the big desk, observed by Last-in-Line-Louise. Miss Dombrowski, her favorite teacher, had given her this nickname, smiling. It was true. Louise always hung back to be last in line and she always sat in the back of class, as long as alphabetical order didn't thwart her. Now, being last in line meant Louise noticed Miss Dombrowski wasn't expecting to return to the room. Her favorite teacher was also still watching the grille above the door, next to the ticking clock.

When the alarm stopped, it felt as if weights had been lifted off Mark's eardrums, and the whole class sighed. "Stay in line," ordered their teacher, "and stay quiet."

Louise backed away until she found her desk. She grabbed her own bag, a shapeless knit thing her mother had made. It was ugly, but it held a lot, and it was practically made out of rope. Louise crammed her lunch in on top of all the other items she had inside, then she shoved her sweater in on top of that. No one saw Last-in-Line rejoin her class except Mark, who stood second last.

Mark was about to risk a whisper when the loudspeaker buzzed an extra-long change of class bell, only it wasn't time to change class. Miss Dombrowski tightened.

"Attention classes. Attention. This is Principal Benson." There was a pause and Louise pictured Mr. Benson letting go of the microphone button and clearing his throat. The mic picked back up. "All teachers, please take your students to Stairway F. I repeat. All teachers, please take your students to Stairway F.

"This is not a drill. I repeat, all teachers, immediately take your students to Stairway F. Students are not allowed to stop at their lockers or in the restrooms. This is not a drill.

"Coordination Staff, please begin your sweep. Coordination Staff, please begin your sweep."

Now the students were beginning to look scared, and Miss Dombrowski seemed to come to herself now that she had something to do.

"Okay, kids. You lined up very well. Now follow me into the hall. Louise, you may turn out the light and close the door, just like our fire drills. Let's go."