By: Haley Horn
The plane is boarding.—I immediately scan the rows for a window seat. I find one and scooch next to a personal sized window. I always choose the window seat of an airplane. I could probably tell you many reasons why, but the main reason is for the comfort of practice.
I submit to many simple and unconscious routines. While they seem insignificant, they hold a certain repose. I notice their familiarity when I am forced to deviate. I wonder if this is because unexpected situations constantly shake our worlds?… Maybe possessing the power to perfect routine in this erratic world is an unconscious way of grasping control over the intangibles in our lives.
This thought lingers as my mind shadows back to Friday the thirteenth, 2013. Just like December last year, specific memories of this day flood back. Friday started as routine as ever, minus an added amount of stress, which could be credited to finals approaching. I drove home for lunch almost everyday. Today was no different. I had homework to finish. Time passed quickly at the kitchen counter in an attempt to complete an assignment. I was late going back to school, hesitant to make the trip.—Mom reminded me, only two classes left in the day.
The late arrival to my Statistics class resulted in one laptop left in the computer cart. My classmate gave me the last laptop. He reassured me it wasn’t a problem, just a short walk to the library to get another. Our teacher turned on music, and I sat next to friends from Elementary school. We began working on the online review.
Meanwhile, choir students began to make a trip around the school to sing Christmas carols. Most of us took a break from our studying to watch in the doorway as we heard them approach. Within 30 seconds of walking to the door, classmates were shoved back inside the classroom. Our door was slammed shut.
Pencils, paper, even a laptop was dropped on the ground. Students directed each other and we quickly took seats along the cabinets. Our teacher sat directly next to the locked door. Intense silence filled our dark room, convoluted with thoughts of probable scenarios of what was happening. These thoughts were expressed through the hands grasped by each other, and vibration of bodies. My conscience pretended to be naive, and deny the situation. Tears pooled in my eyes as reality overrules.
BEEP BEEP BEEP. Any train of thought is interrupted by the alarm. Nobody moves.
A man’s voice, frightened and serious, comes across the intercom. He tells everyone to stay in lock down. Our string of close-knit bodies transfer the intense shaking from one person to another, like a silent game of telephone. Only during this game, everyone interprets the same message, fear.
I finally text my parents… “There’s a shooter in the school, we’re in lockdown.”
Sirens resonate in my ears as salty tears streamed down my face. Texts began to flood my phone.
Through the grapevine we hear who the shooter is— a fellow classmate. His best friend sits along the wall with us. His blank look reflects disbelief…As am I, who would have never imagined my academic peer, and former project partner would carry out these acts.
At last, police are in the school. Feet run through the halls, audible in our classroom. We sit in our dark room for about two hours before the SWAT team arrives to evacuate. They search for another suspect who could be assisting in the crime.
KNOCK KNOCK… The door flies open, lights turn on, and guns are pointed directly at us. Hands ordered in the air, we line up. Each of us patted down and placed in line.
We part ways with our items, cluttered around the classroom. Arms still reaching to the sky.—Down the hall and out the door. A rush of cold air bites my cheeks and exposed arms. A sea of police, ambulance, and SWAT cars lock the streets surrounding the school.
Momma comes to pick me up after a long day. It reminds me of a childhood routine. Comfort blankets me in her embrace. I am finally leaving the scene of a horror movie—home at last.
A man interrupts my thought and announces take off. We depart for Colorado. The plane lifts higher, and a panorama of Manhattan begins to glow. Dusk reflects her different light. The city fuels constant change.
I look forward to my mom’s warm hug and a swap of change for routine.—Just for a little while anyway.