Everybody went to the corner of the room at the end of the cubbies, far from the windows, hidden from the door. It was clear that everybody had assigned spots. I didn’t know if this school called it “shelter in place” or “secure in place” or just plain “lockdown,” but it was pretty clear that’s what it was.

Bertie scooted over and patted the empty space she’d opened up. I squeezed in between her and Bodhi. We were in the back of the group, farthest from Ms. G., the spot where teachers put the kids they know will follow all the directions.

I was sitting crisscross applesauce, but Bertie tapped my shoulder and pointed to her knees. Instead of pointing out, they were pointing up and almost touching her ears. I leaned forward on my hands and uncrossed my feet. Then I pushed backward, keeping my hands on the floor to balance.

The noise kept on pushing. Every time it stopped, I thought maybe that was the last time, but it would push back again. After a while, it felt like it was coming from inside my own head.

I could see over the kids in front of me. Dee was in the front row, closest to Ms. G., the spot where teachers put the kids who need reminders about following the directions.

His hair was pretty messy, like he hadn’t touched a hairbrush in a few days. I watched him lower his bed head and put his hands over his ears. Then he scrunched his shoulders up and held them there, like maybe they could block out the pushing. He rocked back and forth on his tiptoes. I was surprised he didn’t topple over. Right now, he didn’t look like a giant of Terabithia. He looked like any other kid, frozen like a frightened frog and ready to jump.

My legs got heavy and tingly. The yellow jackets in my stomach got excited. Then they got bored. Then they got worried, wondering if they were even safe. I could hear Bertie breathing. I started counting her breaths.

When I hit ninety-seven, Ms. G. looked at me and shrugged. She smiled. It was definitely a fake grown-up smile.

Bertie leaned against me to give her legs a break. “Probably an unannounced drill,” she whispered into my arm.

Ms. G. raised a finger to her lips to remind Bertie we were supposed to be quiet, but she didn’t do it mean. It was a friendly reminder, more like she wished she could tell us it was just a drill. She put her hand on Dee’s shoulder.

Then the blaring stopped. The on-and-off changed to off, and it stayed that way.

Dee dropped his hands and shook out his head. He wriggled until Ms. G. moved her hand away.

“All clear,” a voice said over the loudspeaker. “Thank you. All clear.”