Ainsley and Scarlett are sitting in front of me. I stare at the back of their soccer jerseys. Wednesdays are always terrible, even without a lockdown drill, because that’s the day that the girls’ soccer team has games, and they all wear their jerseys to school. If it’s an away game, the jersey is pearl white with a navy lion emblazoned on the front. Today their jerseys are navy, which means it’s a home game.

A 10 is written in big block numbers on the back of Ainsley’s jersey. It feels like touching a hot stove when I look at it. Ten was always my number.

“You don’t have to be so scared, Quinn,” Scarlett says. She turns her head to look at me. Her white skin is slightly flushed and her blond hair is in two perfect French braids with navy bows at the ends. Scarlett’s mom used to do our hair before games when we played rec league together. Once she put my hair in a waterfall braid and I scored three goals. That was a good day.

“This is just a drill. Your brother is gone, so . . .” Scarlett doesn’t say anything else but pinches her lips together to give me a pointed look that says everything.

“Scarlett,” Ainsley says in a warning tone, and there’s a blush creeping up her light brown cheeks. Ainsley is biracial. Her dad is Indian and her mom is white. Her brown eyes gaze at me sympathetically as she plays with a loose strand of her black hair. I can tell she wants to tell me to ignore Scarlett, but isn’t willing to say that out loud.

Scarlett’s always had a mean streak. It’s just, up until last year, it was never directed at me. Now I’m starting to feel bad about all the girls that I didn’t stand up for, like when Scarlett used to tease Marissa for being a slow runner or Jackie for sweating so much that her uniform had pit stains.

Mrs. Euclid doesn’t hear Scarlett because she’s too busy shoving a desk against the door. That’s her job during these drills, to find the heaviest object and use it to block the entrance to the library.

Thankfully Scarlett leaves me alone after that one comment. But what she said didn’t even bother me that much. I say worse things to myself all the time.

Scarlett goes back to talking with Ainsley about the game. Other kids in my class talk about their math homework and the fall festival and no one seems scared at all. When Mrs. Euclid comes back, they all go quiet again. No one is supposed to talk during these drills. The idea is that you don’t want someone to be able to find you.

I’m holding my breath, but I’m not exactly scared.

I’m scared because I’m not scared. Because I know that if someone like Parker wanted to come hurt us all, he could. And he would.

This isn’t the way to stop him.