This Is Not a Drill Read Free Page B

is?”
    “Whatever, man.”
    The thing is, I wanted to be the kind of guy a girl like Emery Austin could go for. A girl who’s smart and funny like my mom was before she got sick. Being with Emery reminded me of who I was—or who I used to be. When we lost Mom, I got kind of lost, too, for a while. I stopped caring—about everything. I thought there was no use in being a good person without her watching. It’s like the me that used to be was mostly about her, and once she was gone, there wasn’t much reason to try.
    • • •
    Stutts doesn’t move. The kids are completely still, which is a miracle, ’cause usually just getting them in their seats is like trying to nail Jell-O to the wall. Even Mason Mayfield III is stone-cold silent, and Lewis is in his chair, motionless.
    A horn honks outside, and a door slams down the hall somewhere. The hamster suddenly starts going crazy on his little wheel in the back of the room, like he knows something’s up. The kids named him Mr. Worley after their favorite janitor who just retired.
    “Hey, you!” Stutts yells at me.
    “Jake,” I tell him. “My name is Jake.”
    “Yeah, whatever. I need you to empty your pockets.”
    “What for?” I ask.
    “Maybe you got a pocketknife,” he says. “I don’t want you gettin’ any smart ideas.”
    “All I have on me is some change—and my wallet.”
    “Turn ’em out anyway.”
    I pretend to empty my pockets onto the desk nearest me, hoping he won’t notice the slight cell phone bulge still there. “Don’t worry,” I tell him. “You won’t have any problem from me. I don’t want these kids hurt, and besides, I’m no hero.” That’s the understatement of the year.
    “I don’t wanna hurt anybody, either, kid. I’m just tryin’ to be a good dad. I’m not gonna let them take my son away from me. Not my wife”—he’s getting louder and some of his words are slurred—“and not a bunch of small-town bureaucrats like those people down in the office. I don’t need anybody tryin’ to run my life. You got that,
Jake
?”
    “We’ll do whatever we can to help you, sir,” I say, keeping my voice even and looking him in the eye. “Just don’t hurt the people in this room. We’re not your enemy.”
    “That’s the problem,
Jake
; I don’t know who the enemy is anymore. Maybe I
never
knew who the enemy was. The enemy’s everywhere.” His voice gets even louder. “You don’t know who’s tryin’ to mess you up. You can’t tell where the shootin’s comin’ from!”
    It’s crazy talk so I keep quiet. Emery’s eyes move from the gun aimed at her to Stutts and back to the gun again. The gun changes everything, and there’s no way to know how this will end.

CHAPTER 3
    EMERY
    “If you put that away, Mr. Stutts, I promise you,” Mrs. Campbell says soothingly, “we’ll meet with the principal to get to the bottom of whatever problems you’re having with the school.” I notice she doesn’t say the word
gun
.
    I can see Jake’s fists clench, and I’m praying he doesn’t try to rush this guy.
    “I talked with that lady in the office yesterday. I know what my wife’s told them. You know damn well there’s not gonna be any meeting.”
    “Mr. Stutts,
please
 . . . the
children
.” I realize she’s warning him about his language—a man holding a gun—and I almost laugh.
    “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m taking my kid.”
    He moves toward Patrick, lowering the gun a little, but Mrs. Campbell steps between them. Rose’s chair makes a sudden scraping sound as she scoots closer to Patrick, her dark eyes solemn. Patrick looks up at her gratefully, picks up Lamby, and tucks the floppy animal under his arm.
    “Lady, you better get out of my way,” Stutts growls at Mrs. Campbell. He aims the gun back at her, and I feel a twinge of guilt that I’m happy it’s not aimed at me anymore. She doesn’t look at it, but I can’t look at anything else.
    “These children are my responsibility.”