This Is Where It Ends

by Marieke Nijkamp

  Another half-dozen SWAT officers follow behind the first group, fanning out across the auditorium. They signal to indicate the space is secure. One of the officers closest to Matt and me curses under his breath before reporting the situation on his radio.

  I rock to my feet and shout for someone to help me. I bend over Matt to hear what he’s saying, but the words die on his lips, and his eyes begin to lose focus. I smile in the hopes he can see me, in the hopes he’ll think I understood him. “When it snows, we’ll have a snowball fight and drag your sisters into it,” I say. “They won’t refuse—not when I tell them how brave you were today.”

  Something sparks in his gaze—a smile that never reaches his lips. His eyes turn away from me as one of the SWAT teams approaches. I step aside, and he crouches by Matt, examining him.

  “Can you help him?”

  Under the visor of his helmet, the officer wears a tight-lipped frown. His eyes are concerned. “We’ll need to get you and everyone who can run out of here as soon as possible.”

  I shake my head. “But can you help him?”

  “When it’s safe, we’ll send in the paramedics for the wounded.”

  I stare at him, and almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head. “Let’s get you out. There’s nothing we can do.”

  “You can’t be serious.” I back away from him.

  “Come on. You have to get out,” he repeats.

  Matt is pale, but he nods slowly.

  All over the auditorium, students and teachers are guided toward the exits. Those who can still walk, walk. Others lend support. And those with serious injuries are left behind in a room full of death.

  They won’t let me stay with Matt, but I can’t just leave either. Not when Sylv may be wandering the school somewhere. Not when Ty is still around. Because Matt was right: Ty is my brother. He’ll always be, no matter what.

  The officer guides me to a group of students at one of the doors who are waiting for the go-ahead to be escorted through the school. No one makes eye contact, and it’s almost a relief. If they’re all so focused on getting out, no one will try to stop me if I try to stay in.

  • • •

  CLAIRE

  Chris’s lips move, but I don’t hear what he says. I cling to the phone. Over the voices from the auditorium, I only ever hear the question: Can you help him?

  Nothing we can do.

  Chris places his hand on my arm, but I shrug him off. “Matt?”

  It’s silent for such a long time that I’m convinced it’s too late. Then there’s a soft cough. “I’m so cold, Claire.”

  I find an empty folding chair and sit. “I didn’t know you were hurt.”

  “I didn’t want to tell you. You worry too much.”

  I try to smile. “Punk, that’s what I’m here for. I’ll always worry about you.”

  “He didn’t shoot me on purpose,” he says. “He—” Matt starts to cough again, but it sounds faint.

  Tyler shot him. My ex-boyfriend shot my brother. And Matt still tries to protect him—like I tried to protect him.

  “Save your strength,” I tell him quietly. “They’ll come back for you. And I’ll be here. I’ll be waiting. You know how I promised you we’d decorate your figurines? We’ll do that when you’re home. The doctors will fix you up. They always do.” My voice cracks, but I try to mask it. “When Trace is home on leave, we’ll take a trip to the beach together, the three of us. Just like we used to.”

  Matt coughs again, but I imagine he smiles. My head feels so light, like I’m still running and haven’t been able to breathe for days.

  “I’d like that,” he says.

  I wish I could hold him close and tell him everything will be all right, because between Tracy and me, we’ll always take care of him. But how can I tell him that now?

  “You know, out of the three of us, you were always the cool one. You’re creative. You’re so brave.” I’d always meant to tell him that. “I’m so sorry. I should be there for you.”

  Chris crouches next to me. He always knows exactly when I need him most.

  My words are met with silence. I wait to give Matt time to catch his breath, but I can’t hear him breathing anymore. “Matt?”

  My fingers are ice-cold.

  “Matt?”

  “Matt!”

  • • •

  SYLV

  A gust of cold air blows in. “We’ll be fine on the roof,” Fareed decides as he leans out. “There’s not much cover, but if we’re close to the building, from inside it shouldn’t be too obvious that we’re out here.”

  I swallow a sudden bout of nausea. We’re trapped in this lab. I’d rather be trapped in the open air—even if it is up on a roof. Even if we could lock the window—which we can’t—all Tyler would need is one bullet or the butt of his gun to shatter the glass to get to us. Still, it’s the only option we have other than running back into the hallway, and that would be death for us too.

  Fareed is climbing over the sill. “At least it’s not raining.”

  With Fareed on the roof and Tomás inside, they help me maneuver through the open window. It’s a little too high to climb out easily, and I’m not as nimble as Autumn would be, but I get a leg up and over.

  Once I’m sitting on the windowsill, Fareed walks away, looking around him. Presumably to find police officers. To signal for help. Tomás wraps his arms around me. “We’re on top of a roof. Are you afraid?”

  “Not of heights right now.” I try to smile, but I don’t quite know how. “The roof itself doesn’t scare me, but there’s nowhere to hide up here.”

  “We can always jump,” Fareed says from a distance. “Broken legs are a small price to pay.”

  “Pleasant thought,” Tomás murmurs. Gunshots sound again, closer, and he tenses. Then he pulls me to him. “None of this is your fault,” he says into my hair. “You couldn’t have stopped him even if you had talked to someone. I love you.”

  And I know, no matter how many secrets I may have, he’ll always be there for me.

  It makes me feel safe.

  • • •

  TOMÁS

  I hope she smiles again. She’s radiant when she smiles. Which isn’t surprising. She has the same genes as me, of course. “I’m sorry we fought so much this past year. We wasted so much time. If I had known we’d end up here…”

  She squeezes me tightly. “If you had known, we still would’ve fought. It’s what we do best.”

  That’s true. Of course it’s true.

  Twin brother privileges.

  I draw out this moment for as long as I dare—Sylvia on the window ledge, freedom at her back, and me standing in front of her. Time pauses long enough for me to tell her, “You know, you aren’t the only one with secrets. I always wanted to study archaeology, like a modern Indiana Jones but slightly less racist. Focus on our own heritage. I always thought Abuelo would like that. Tell him, won’t you?”

  Maybe he’ll understand, in the end.

  “Tell Mamá… I—I don’t even know. Tell her I picked the locks on the auditorium and that supergluing Mr. Herrera’s desk was the best decision I ever made. Tell her about that time we spiked the milk in the cafeteria with food coloring so it all turned green. And how we hid chickens in the teachers’ lounge. Tell her I asked the prettiest girl in the school out on a date today—and she didn’t even say no.” My voice swells as I help her out the window. She’s listening so intently, she doesn’t seem scared as Fareed lifts her down onto the roof.

  I expect her to argue or to laugh at me, but her dark eyes are serious. And in that moment, I love her for being there.

  “Hell, just tell Mamá I had a wonderful sister. Tell her I had the most amazing friends.” The air outside is crisp, and I can almost taste the promise of snow. “Tell her I was happy, okay?” I smile. “Tell her I was happy,
and don’t let her forget me.”

  With those words, I let go of Sylv’s hands. I hope she’ll remember me smiling too. Sliding the window shut behind her, I turn away so I don’t have to see her look of surprised betrayal when she realizes I’m not going with her. I take a calming breath, then walk back to the door. They need time—and time is what I can give them.

  CJ Johnson

  @CadetCJJ

  The auditorium is almost empty while we’re waiting to get out.

  10:43 AM

  272 favorites

  CJ Johnson

  @CadetCJJ

  Someone will wake me up and tell me it was all a dream, right? #OHS

  10:44 AM

  Jay Eyck

  @JEyck32

  @CadetCJJ I wish #OHS

  10:44 AM

  Chapter Twenty-One

  10:44–10:46 A.M.

  CLAIRE

  Nothing else matters but the silence on the other side of the line.

  For Matt’s sixth birthday, we pimped an old tricycle to make it look like a spaceship. Dad cut the parts from cardboard, and Trace and I painted them in whatever colors Matt wanted—red with streaks of blue, purple with green dots, black stripes and white stars. It didn’t look like anything special, but Matt was overjoyed. That cardboard spaceship was the start of his obsession with anything with wings—to the point where Dad once said he and Mom would have to get him flying lessons instead of driving lessons. The mere thought of it had Matt bouncing around the house for days.

  Chris hands me a paper cup of water, but I don’t feel thirsty. I don’t feel anything. Part of me waits for Matt to cough, to breathe, but I know it’s futile. I know.

  When Matt was twelve, we drove down to the coast so he could see the ocean—well, the gulf. It was the only vacation we had gone on since he was born, but that summer was special. Dad had a new job. Tracy had enlisted and would leave for training in the fall.

  We ate dinner first and walked along the beach at sunset, all of us helping Matt when his crutches got sucked into the muddy sand. By the time darkness shimmered across the water, we had sand in our shoes, our clothes, our hair, our ears. We lay on our backs and stared at the stars, which were starting to appear, and Trace and I each held on to one of Matt’s hands. He told us all about the constellations overhead.

  “I love that the sky is endless,” he said. “If I can’t go to space, I want to study the stars. Do you know the light we see really means we’re looking back in history?”

  “Does that mean we’re in the future?” Trace laughed.

  “No. We’re at exactly the right place, at exactly the right time.”

  Today, I was at neither. When Chris gently switches off the phone, I stuff my hands in my pockets and start to pace. On the other side of the police tape, people wrap their arms around each other and cry, hold hands and pray, whisper words of encouragement to each other. There are so many people here, and Chris is by my side, but I have never felt more alone. I wish my parents were here, but at the same time I’m not ready to face them. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  When I spot Deputy Lee in the crowd, I touch his arm and draw him to a quiet spot. “How can we help?”

  “You know that’s not possible, Claire.”

  “Anything at all?”

  The deputy shakes his head. We’re victims too, with names and witness reports to be taken.

  But I need to do something.

  “Please.”

  He wavers, and I push. “Please. Anything.” Anything to stop me from losing my mind. From feeling like I failed everyone.

  When Chris takes my hand and echoes my words, Deputy Lee guides us to the large shelter. “If you want to help, talk to the students who are afraid. They would benefit from seeing familiar faces. Our officers will take their names and their reports. The most important thing you can do is be there.”

  A gesture of kindness. It’s all we need.

  “After the students are registered and checked for injuries, they will be escorted to an emergency center in town. There, they’ll be reunited with their families as they arrive.” He hesitates, as if unsure whether this is a good idea. “If at any point this becomes too much for you, you let us know and we’ll make sure you get there too. You should be there to wait for your families.”

  “Opportunity High is our family,” I say. “We can listen.”

  Chris reaches for my hand and squeezes. With everything that has happened, I don’t know who I am.

  I am a sister—was—am.

  I hope.

  A handful of students head our way, and I straighten despite my trembling hands. A girl breaks away from the group and walks toward me.

  • • •

  AUTUMN

  When a handful of police officers lead a group of students out of the auditorium, I grab my chance. I trail them, at the back of the group, and shiver when we cross the threshold to the hallway. I take in the bullet holes in the lockers, more bodies and blood spatters on the linoleum.

  And I hang back to get my bearings. Where would Sylv go? Maybe she’s outside already. Maybe she’s safe. In here, there are too many bodies, too many signs that Ty continued his rampage.

  Where would Ty go? If he stayed on this floor or if he’d gone outside, the police would have captured him and the paramedics would be here already and we wouldn’t need to sneak out.

  It’d make most sense for him to go to the second floor.

  My cut stings, and I wipe at my cheek with my sleeve, which only makes the pain worse. I hang near the wall and let the group walk away from me. The soft static of the officers’ radios fades.

  I won’t have much time.

  Once the auditorium is clear, they’ll do a sweep of the school, I think. As soon as the group turns the corner, I’ll run to the staircase. I’ll be careful. I’ll be quiet. If Sylv is upstairs, so is Ty. I won’t let either of them go without a fight. They’re all I have left.

  A shot rings out upstairs.

  “We have to get you out,” one of the officers says, hurrying the group along.

  Everyone rushes toward the front of the school, to safety, protected on either side by the SWAT team. No one notices me.

  Another shot sounds upstairs, and I make my way toward the second floor. In the dim lighting, the stairwell feels haunted—even more so when I see two students sprawled across the steps, their blank eyes staring at me.

  Neither are Sylv.

  We had planned to go to New York together. Not for my audition—I needed to do that on my own—but after that. If I got accepted. We were going to go after Sylv graduated, our own private road trip. A visit to Juilliard, then up to Brown—because of course she’ll get in—and wherever else we wanted to go.

  Away from here, we’d face the world. We’d build our home. Together.

  Oh God. I hope I’m not too late.

  • • •

  TOMÁS

  I quietly close the door behind me and move away from it. It’ll be easy for Tyler to find the one that’s unlocked, but it will take him time—time we have and he doesn’t, because with every second, more students escape and the police move closer.

  They have to. They have to save us.

  Run, Sylvia, run.

  I walk fast to get as far away from the room as possible. Across the hall, Tyler tries another door. Locked. When he turns, his gun in hand and an agitated look in his eyes, he spots me and pauses. He no longer looks neat and immaculate. There are blood spatters on his shirt, and his spiky hair is ruffled.

  “You know, sweaty chic doesn’t suit you,” I muse.

  Tyler falters, though only for a moment. “I should have known. Come to protect your sister? What are you going to do—hit me again?”

  “I’ll always protect her,” I say. I thought I would have to struggle to keep my
anger under control, but all I have to do is think about Sylvia and Fareed running, running, running. As long as they’re safe, nothing else matters.

  My calm seems to throw him off guard, but a slow grin spreads across his face. I can’t imagine a more eerie reaction from someone holding a gun.

  “You think you’re something, don’t you? The joker of the school,” he says. “Are you afraid now? This time, I’m in control, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

  “You’ll kill me. That’s that. So no, I’m not afraid.” I shrug while sweat runs down my back and my arms. “Funny thing though, that still means I am in control.”

  He pulls the trigger, and I flinch. The bullet buries itself in the wall beside me. Tyler’s gloating makes me want to charge him. But I refuse to give him that pleasure.

  “You’ll kill me on my terms,” I say, and I hate that my voice trips and breaks.

  Firing his gun, on the other hand, seems to have made Tyler more confident. He takes a step closer and points the gun at my head. “At least you won’t be in my way anymore. Was that your brilliant plan? Protect your sister by sacrificing yourself? Just imagine what I can do without you around to protect her.”

  “Nothing more than with me here.” Inwardly, I wince at how true those words are. “You see, we have friends. I know it must be hard for you to understand, but I know she’ll be safe, and she’ll know she’s loved. Whereas you—you’re a maggot, and soon you’ll be a dead maggot. I may be dead, but you won’t hurt her anymore.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Was telling me that worth it?”

  I eye the barrel, and I can almost feel Sylvia’s arms around me, see the look in her eyes whenever I made her laugh, whenever Autumn danced, whenever we were all together at the farm and Mamá was having one of her good days. I can’t protect her from every danger, but I can give her more days to love.

  Telling him wasn’t worth it. But delaying him long enough for Sylv to escape?

  “It’s so worth it.”

  • • •

  SYLV

  No, no, no, no, no.

  He can’t—Tomás can’t leave me.

  On this side of the window, the sound of voices drifts up on the wind—parents, police, camera crews. Vehicles come and go. Helicopters rattle the air. It feels as though we’ve been dropped back into the real world, into life. On the other side of the roof, Fareed is signaling to the police, but I need Tomás with me.