Andrew Book Prolouge

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Part One – LAST DAY 3:13 PM, May 28, 2014
It was about this time I was in the cafeteria, watching the 8th grade event talent show; I was towards the back of the room with my other jazz band members. We’d played before the acts started to kick it off as kids were filtering into the cafeteria from the events. The 8th grade event had been the single most anticipated part of 8th grade for most kids. Who doesn’t want to ride a mechanical bull or climb a rock wall or bungee jump, etc.? But since we’d lost more than a week of school due to unnatural Georgia snow, the crappy school superintendent decided the event should be an added on, optional day to the end of the school year. Like that makes sense. We’d already gained days of make-up, and now we’d have to have an extra day just for 8th graders and their event.
This led to a lot of students just skipping it and taking an extra day of summer instead of an optional day of school. Among those numerous people were Kyle and Caleb- practically half the entertainment for me on a day like this.
So I had to sit there and listen to Jenae play her viola music piece, no side comments from the trumpeteer (if you can call him that), Kyle, who should have been there as the lead trumpet. Instead we had a bunch of headless chickens who pretended to play trumpets in our jazz band performance, but failed without the amazing Kyle to back them up and lead. But I’ll mention again that I digress.
One more thing I noticed as I sat on that uncomfortable lunch room chair was that the room was not nearly as full of kids as it should have been. Even with all the people who quit school a day early, the audience was pretty small.
Recently, several students and teachers had been falling ill with some sort of sickness. Dropping like flies. By this afternoon, there was a steady stream of people checking out. A lady with a walkie talkie would walk onto stage in between acts to yell out, on average, half a dozen names for checkout. Most of those kids were having the nasty symptoms. You know: high temperature, ‘blah’ colds, and the worst works like vomiting. They had probably called their parents to get them.
Several teachers and adults then began thinking of just calling the year quits at 2:30- only about 250 kids still remained in school at that time. Though, that decision was overrode by the many healthy students who upon hearing this said, “NO WAY!”
So here we were, in the final hour before 4 pm bus call. Too late to call off school I guess. Epidemic practically on the school’s hands. Letting the last fine kids enjoy their uncrowded 8th grade event.
Everyone clapped as Jenae finished and, smiling, walked off stage as the old lady announcer stepped up. She talked through the mic in a clear, I-don’t-like-chit-chatter-when-I’m-talking voice, “Can I have your attention now? Thank you. Emmeline Bowling, Chip Phillips, Madelyn Harvey, Jose Reyes, and Matthew Bugle for checkout please.”
More loud talking ensued, and those people got up and headed for the doors of the cafeteria. I saw Matthew walking in a stumbled way, looking down to the ground. And there was Madelyn was grasping her head with a pained expression. This was a typical sign of most checking out kids- too sickness stricken to go on. Or it could be a sign of drama queens, which everyone knew Madelyn could be at times. I didn’t think anything more of it really. They were sick and gone now. I was still good, perfectly normal feeling. So naïve and selfish I was…
The next act was absent so they skipped right to Sydney McDougal’s singing of “Let It Go.” So she went on up there, with a few yays and a few hisses from the people who simply loathed Let It Go. Sid sung it out, but I think it was around…the part where it says ‘Here I stand’ and stuff when suddenly, the intercom crackled to life, an announcement to the entire school apparently.
“Teachers and students,” a woman’s voice called to all of us, then paused a moment before hurrying on, something edged in her voice, “OMS is going into lockdown. Teachers, if you would quickly and quietly guide your students to homeroom immediately. This isn’t a drill…the school is hereby going into a lockdown.”
Well, not only did it interrupt Sydney’s song and cut out in mid-verse, but it made half the kids shut up real quick and the other half erupt into loud, confused talking. The teachers all scrambled to get their class together, get information (they seemed as confused as us), and organize some sort of a quiet lockdown. Nobody knew what kind of threat we were going into hiding over, like a bunch of scurrying ants on a log. Everyone was at least a little bit uneasy, but not outright terrified yet. What were the odds this was actually happening? Was this a mistake or some sort of joke perhaps? Nobody knew. Nobody suspected.