Emergency

Christopher

I arrived to class about ten minutes early, confident I had finally gotten the routine down. I saw Leila, Professor Bell, sitting at her desk. I smiled, looking forward to another interesting class. I figured I would make a little small talk with the class relatively empty.

I stepped inside, walking towards her desk. “Good morning,” I greeted.

“Hi,” she said with a bright smile. “You’re early.”

“I am. I think I have the route down.”

“Good. How was your drive?”

“Easy. The traffic isn’t too bad.”

“Where do you drive in from?” she asked.

“Lake Conroe,” I told her.

Her expression changed. “That’s a very nice area to live.”

I was about to answer her when my phone started to ring. “Sorry,” I mumbled and rushed into the hall to silence my phone. Then I saw the number. “Shit,” I muttered, a feeling of dread filling me as I answered the damn call.

“Mr. Evans, this is Mr. Hollister at the high school, we need to talk.”

I inwardly groaned. The words I hoped I would never have to hear