9:30

"Autumn went to the bathroom and she's not answering her phone," Corey says almost inaudibly. He is sweating and tears line his face.

"She's fine, don't worry," I reassure.

"How do you know that!"

I cringe at his loud voice. Ms. G shushes him, a frightened year streams down her cheek.

"I know," I whisper.

A small knock comes from the door and I jump. Terror consumes my chest and I feel as if I am suffocating. A million possibilities override my brain.

The knock repeats. This time though, a voice follows. "Skye?"

The terror is instantly released and a new emotion takes its place.

"B-Barry?" I struggle to talk because of the huge lump in my throat. It comes out like I am talking through cotton balls and jello.

"Shh!"

"Ms- Ms. G," I say in between sobs. "It's Barry, please. Please let him inside. I-I... Please!"

I am crying uncontrollably now. Ms. G shakes her head at me.

"Ms. G you don't understand. He's family. You always say that in this class we are family and we do anything for each other. Well not only is he a part of our dance family, but he is my family." I take a deep breath and then calm my voice down. "I love him, more than anything in this world."

She sighs. "Corey help her with the bookshelf."

Corey and I move the bookshelf away from the door and with extreme caution, open it. As soon as we do the room floods with light. Barry stumbles in like he had been leaning against the door with all of his weight. The door closes behind him.

A sob rips out of me and I wrap my arms around Barry's neck in a hug. He returns the hug by putting his arms around my waist and squeezing until I can't breathe. My tears wet his blue collared shirt; I can feel his tears fall down my face.

I pull my head away from his shirt and cup his face with my hands. His head still remains down as does his arms stay around me like he is afraid to let me go. I plant multiple kisses on his cheeks and forehead, making my lips salty.

He takes a deep breath and speaks. "I- I thought that I was never going to see you again."

"I would never let that happen," I respond.

Recalling that there are windows in the classroom and that the shooter is still wandering around the school somewhere we sit on the floor behind a prop sofa.

I glance around the dance room but stop short when my breath catches.

"Where's Corey?"