Principal Riley’s voice cut through the bleating alarm.

“This is a code gray. Teachers and students, remain in your classrooms. I repeat. This is a code gray.”

Leo squinted up at the speakers mounted into the ceiling.

She forgot to say it was just a drill.

It was definitely a drill. Had to be. There couldn’t be another attack. It had only been four months since the first one. Four months since his mother hugged him goodbye. He knew it wasn’t real, and yet Leo felt the panic seize him, muscles taut, heart racing, breaths quick and shallow. His inhaler was in the front pocket of his backpack, which was hanging from the back of the chair behind him, but he was afraid to move out from under the desk. He hunched over farther, curling himself into a tight ball. The alarms continued to blare. The whole school was shut down, closed off, locked tight.

He realized he was trapped in here.

And the Djarik, they were out there somewhere, he knew, just waiting for the right moment to strike again. Waiting to finish what they’d started.

Leo’s stomach lurched. It’s not for real. None of this is really happening. He closed his eyes and tried to picture her, not on that last day, but before. On the porch. Looking at him. Watching over him.

Be brave, my little lion.

He didn’t know how to be brave. He begged for it to stop.

And then, finally, it did.

The alarm ceased. Seconds later, the lights triggered on and the thick metal shades retracted, letting the sun shine through again. Leo heard the door lock give as Mrs. Riley came back over the intercom.

“Teachers and students, this concludes our drill. Good job, everyone. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Mr. Markenson stuffed his bag back into his drawer and locked it with his thumbprint. “Okay, troopers, you heard the boss. Drill’s over. Back to your books.”

Leo saw all the kids around him dislodge themselves from under their desks, rubbing their necks and wiping the dust from their knees. But Leo didn’t move.

“You okay there, Leo?”

He was not okay.

That’s when everybody saw it: the stinking little puddle of sick on the floor underneath Leo’s chin.

“Oh, gross. Fender threw up!” Adam pointed to the remains of Leo’s lunch. A chorus of ews erupted from the desks nearby.

With a trembling hand, Leo wiped his mouth and crept out from under his desk, face flushed. In five steps his teacher was beside him, a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Leo,” he said. “I didn’t even think. . . .”

Leo shook his head. “I don’t know what happened,” he said, soft enough that he hoped only the teacher would hear. “I guess I just panicked. All the noise and everything . . . it was just too much.”

“Don’t even worry about it. We’ll get it cleaned up. You want me to call the office? They can call your dad and he can come get you.”