Another kid, Milo Clark, raised his hand. “Wait, so you’re saying the Djarik are going to break into our school and start shooting us?”

Mr. Markenson gently massaged his forehead. “No, I’m not suggesting . . . Listen, I know what you all are thinking, and I agree, it doesn’t seem like much. But in the event of another alien attack, our best option really is to stay put, stay calm, and let the authorities handle it.”

“You mean the Aykari.”

“He means the Earth Defense Force.”

“God will protect us,” Angelina Sarden said. “At least, he will protect me. I don’t know about the rest of you.” She fingered the silver cross around her neck.

“I’d like to see those scaly freaks break into this school,” Adam bragged. “I’d take ’em out.”

“How?” Milo wanted to know. “Hit them with your lunch box? Maybe stab them with your stylus? You’re so full of it. The Djarik would freaking waste you.”

Mr. Markenson raised his voice, getting the boys’ attention. “Nobody is wasting anyone. It’s just a drill. Now take out your datapads and pull up your math assignments so we can go over last night’s problems.”

Leo did as he was told. And he tried to concentrate on his work, but his eyes kept gravitating toward the emergency sign sitting just over the door, waiting for it to start flashing orange. Waiting for the nerve-grating murr-murr-murr of the school alarm. Waiting for the moment when he had to pretend the world was ending all over again.

It didn’t come in math. It didn’t come in science. Not during galactic geography when they learned about the Brennari system (a good source of ventasium, Mr. Markenson said). Not in the middle of lunch where they were served fish sticks again. By afternoon Leo had nearly forgotten about it. Slumped over his desk for silent reading, scrolling through the latest volume of Infinity League, he nearly fell out of his chair when the building started to scream. The main overheads immediately shut off, replaced with the fluorescent green glow of the emergency lights running along the baseboard. Leo heard the click of the door, sealing them in, and watched as the eyes of eight windows closed, the steel outer shutters slamming down with a thunderous clang.

“Under your desks everyone!” Mr. Markenson commanded, unlocking and opening the bottom drawer of his own desk to remove his “emergency case,” complete with medical kit, walkie-talkie, and high-voltage electrical baton. Every teacher had one and supposedly had been trained in its use, though every teacher Leo had ever met said they hoped to never have to. Not that a Taser would do much good against an armed Djarik marauder anyway. Milo was right: if any of them ever came face-to-face with a Djarik, they were done for. Bend over and kiss your own butt goodbye, as Gareth would say.

Jammed underneath his desk with the alarm blaring in his ears, Leo wasn’t picturing Mr. Markenson duking it out with a Djarik soldier, or imagining a platoon of gun-toting aliens dropping out of the sky onto the playground and swarming the school. He was back at the beach. Looking up at the bright light that was burning his eyes. Collapsing into his father’s arms. Running hand in hand with his brother back to the car, his dad shouting at the sky.