The bell tolls quietly from inside the halls just as I sit in my seat. Mr Hayes – the only 9th grade teacher – quickly runs out of the class.
There is only one class per grade, one teacher for a few subjects, and one floor for the whole school here. You’d really expect a high school to be a lot larger, huh? The bell rings as Mr. Hayes, the science, english, and history teacher, wheels in an old looking TV on a cart with a lot of VHS tapes. “A lot of” tapes is an overstatement, there’s actually only like five, but somehow they’ve been placed so precariously that it looks like they’ll all fall off at any moment. The room goes silent as he finishes pushing it to the middle of the front board. He steps in front of the TV and places his right hand on his chest and looks at the American flag at the back of the room. Everyone gets up too, but I notice too late and get up as everyone says, “I pledge allegiance…”
“Good morning class!” He says in a booming voice. He then picks up one of the tapes off the cart. I’m not listening to what he’s saying, but I know we are learning about the history of something right now. Whenever we have history, Mr. Hayes always just has us watch a tape, which makes history class a rare occurrence.
The lights in the classroom are turned off, bringing me back to reality. I focus my eyes on the TV as the screen fades away from black to the title: “The Salem Witch Trials.” Oh? I thought we already learned this in middle school. I wonder for a moment if the curriculum for middle and high schools are different here, or if this school is just weird.
My attention is taken away from the TV by the sounds of soft rain on the window next to me, which quickly turns into loud stomps, then louder thuds. The windows whistle and rattle as trees seem to start laying down outside.
Suddenly, the window shatters. Pieces of glass fly into my face, cutting me, as an apple sized piece of hail hits me square in the nose. I fly backwards, my feet caught on my desk and taking it back with me. Slam! I hit the ground. There’s a loud ringing in my ears as my vision begins to fade, but it seems too loud to just be my head.
My eyes flicker open as cold wet air enters my lungs. My head is throbbing with pain. I try to get up and walk around, but I only manage to sit before I get too lightheaded. Wherever I am, it’s dark with only a few spots of light coming in through holes around the room.
There are pipes covering one wall of the room, leaking water quickly but not quick enough to flood the large room. To my left, there is a stairwell leading up in the wall. The concrete floor feels cold under me. I notice all my classmates and some students in the grades below are sitting here too – around twenty.
“What?” I stutter out, growing more awake. My classmate, Beth, crawls over to me. I’ve only spoken to her once: when she let me borrow her pencil. I took it home and meant to give it back the next day, but she said I should just keep it. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen her get upset.
“Oh dear, are you doing okay? That ice chunk hit you pretty hard!” she says sweetly. I just give a thumbs up in response. Penny, another girl in my class, walks over.
“You missed a lot,” Penny says in a monotone voice. “After you were hit, the rest of the storm hit too. The windows were flying off, and more hail came down. Mr. Hayes took us down to the basement and Beth carried you down, too. Some other kids from the other classes came. Before Mr. Hayes could come down with us, he, and maybe the top part of the school, was blown away by the wind. The wind also slammed the door shut and we can’t open it anymore. So, uh, yeah.”
A picture of our teacher getting flown away appears in my mind, making me smile and let out a small giggle. Beth looks at me unamused with eyebrows slightly furrowed. I look away, a bit ashamed.
“Sorry,” I mumble. Beth and Penny get up to walk away.
“Feel better soon!” Beth says before turning away and whispering, “Did you see that?” to Penny.
“She’s so…weird,” Penny whispers back.
The pain in my head has dissipated after a few hours of sitting and doing nothing. The shock, fear, sadness, and worry of what’s just happened is replaced with hunger and dreadful amounts of boredom. While contemplating whether I should try to fix those leaky pipes before it actually floods the room, Penny walks over and sits down next to me.
“So, do you know what Mr. Hayes was gonna teach us?” she asks.
“The Salem Witch Trials.” Curious about why we were learning that so late in high school, I ask, “Do you know what that was?”
“No.”
“Oh.” I say, my eyebrows raise a little. I try to explain, “Well it’s-”
“Oh no don’t tell me, I don’t care,” Penny interrupts. Unsure of how to continue the conversation, I ask how she’s not bored.
“I am, that’s why I’m actually talking to you, are you bored?”
“Yeah, and a bit hungry. Is there any food?”
“We found a few cans earlier. There’s pineapple, beans, and some chicken. You want some?” Penny asks in an annoyed tone. Before I can answer, she gets up and gestures at me to follow her.
Opening it, we find cans, lots of cans, and a can opener. They don’t immediately seem bad, no smell or anything. I pick one up. The can seems bloated, each side curves out. Looking at the bottom, the expiration date says, “July 6th, 1995”: five years old.
“These are spoiled.” I assert sternly. Penny looks at me like I’m crazy.
“No they’re not?” She picks up a can of pineapples, “Look,” She opens the can. Before looking inside, a horrible stench seeps out of the can, smelling like rot and dirt. She looks inside with furrowed brows. The pineapple slices look like balls of white fur; there’s not even a trace of yellow to be seen. Ew! The can slips out of her hands and bangs on the floor. More unrecognizable pineapple slices spill out. Stumbling backwards, she looks up at me, shocked.
“Did you? No…” Penny mumbles to herself. Closing her eyes for a second, she regains her composure. “Is there… Anything else we should worry about?” She asks, tilting her head slightly. Looking at the pipes where I was sitting before, the flow of water dripping out is even quicker.
“Those pipes,” I warn, “They’re going to flood this room, I think.”
By some lucky, or unlucky, coincidence, the pipes break. Water gushes out and spreads out throughout the floor in waves. A few others begin spraying water and hit a few people directly in the face. It’ll take at least a few hours to flood the entire room. Before I can say a word, Penny screams loudly:
“What have you done! You’re going to kill us all!” Multiple people stand up including Beth, who looks at me wide eyed, her mouth slightly open, frozen in place. I try to explain what really happened, but with just a few words, everyone already believes Penny.
“Get her out! Get her out before she starts the storm up again!” A boy shouts. I am pulled by the collar of my shirt up the stairs, nearly choking me. I can’t see who it is, but there are many people coming along too. I’m slammed and held against the wall next to the door leading out. A loud ringing in my ear overwhelms all my senses. They bang and push on the door, seemingly forgetting it can’t be opened. Thud! Thud! More people come up the stairs to help, pushing me harder against the wall. I feel like I’m about to pop. Thud! Thud! Beth stares up at the stairway, frozen in place. Her mouth even wider than before, slowly lifting her hands to her mouth. Penny shoves her out the way to help open the door. Thud! Thud! BANG! Everyone falls out, landing on the door, now off of its hinges.
Two boys grab me and throw me out onto a pile of wood planks. Walking back inside the basement, the door is put back into place, more securely than last time. Before it’s done, Beth rushes up the stairs, trying to push the door away. Penny rushes up and grabs her. “What are you doing? Are you trying to help her?” Penny scolds. Beth tries to say no before Penny pulls her away, down into the dark basement, as the door is sealed shut.
Lightheaded, with sunlight showering my face, I slowly lift my body up to look around.
The town, the school, the walls, the people, are all gone. Ripped right out of the ground. Only the pile of wood planks I lay on and the door leading to the basement remain. I get up and walk around. I’m only a few feet away from the door until it bangs open once more. Shouts and cries fill the quiet air until the door shuts once more. I turn around, slowly to not get lightheaded.
There, Beth is laying on those planks, tears streaming down her red face. I walk over. I put out my hand and lift her up from the pile. Rain begins to fall lightly as we walk away from the door.
