There’s no room for me to retreat. The front wheels ram into my right foot, crushing my toes. A white-hot bolt of pain shoots through me, and I have to bite down on my tongue to keep from crying out.

Please let this stop, I pray, not even sure who I’m praying to. Please, please let him get an urgent call, or have to get up to use the bathroom, or let the fire alarm go off sometime soon...

But neither the chair nor Mr. Murphy moves.

“Well, actually...” Henry’s voice floats over from the other side of the room, and I can tell from the pause that he’s trying to stall. He must know I’m still here. We talked about this before, albeit briefly; I would text him once I was safe outside, and if not, he would create a distraction to buy me time. I just hadn’t counted on him to remember.

For a second, I allow myself to hope.

Then I hear his footsteps moving in the opposite direction, and my heart falls. Confusion clouds my mind. What the hell is he—

A crash breaks through my thoughts: the unmistakable sound of flesh slamming into cement, like someone’s body hitting the floor.

Then a gasp—

“Henry? Henry!”

The chair rolls back and in a flash of brown, Mr. Murphy’s shoes disappear from view. I hear him run toward where Henry must have fallen and I don’t think. I just move. Ignoring the pins and needles in my legs, I scramble out from under the desk, almost banging my head against the corner, and sprint for the back door.

In the dark of the corridor, I sink into the shadows, panting, catching snippets of Henry’s conversation with Mr. Murphy as I creep farther away from the classroom.

“...haven’t had much to eat. Don’t worry, this has happened before...”

“...to the school nurse? They might still be in—”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary. Really, it’s fine. I didn’t mean to startle you...”

The night air is cool when I step out. Sweet with the fragrance of begonias blooming in the school gardens. I close my eyes and inhale, hardly daring to believe what I just managed to get away with. What Henry just did. When he talked about creating a distraction, I never would’ve imagined he meant fake fainting.

It’s all so bizarre that a bubble of laughter bursts from my lips, and suddenly my whole body is shaking with hysteria, the much-needed release of tension. I don’t know long I stand there, waiting, light-headed and almost giddy with relief, but soon I hear voices. Henry and Mr. Murphy’s. Some of their words are muffled by the front door, but I can make out Henry’s continued insistence: “I’m fine, I’m fine. I can go see the nurse myself.”

Mr. Murphy must believe him—or maybe he simply knows better than to challenge Henry’s stubbornness—because there’s the squeak of shoes, of heavy footsteps moving away, while another set draws closer.