The Teacher is Always Quiet During the Test

Jenny sprinted through the quad her mind focused on the presentation she was about to give. Frazzled and upset, she didn’t see Dr. Whitcomb until it was too late. Wham! Books, backpack, and a pair of glasses flew. Jenny looked up from the ground into the concerned eyes of Dr. Whitcomb. Glancing down, she saw his outstretched hand offering her aid in regaining her feet.

“Thank you.” Jenny sputtered, trying to act as though everything was okay. Dr. Whitcomb’s arched eyebrow indicated that he knew something wasn’t right.

“I’m so sorry…” Jenny began, but Dr. Whitcomb shook his head, and Jenny stopped. Looking around, she saw her stuff on the ground like a crash site in a disaster movie. She quickly bent down and began gathering the books and papers. Dr. Whitcomb bent down as well, quickly and efficiently rounding up the majority of the mess. When Jenny finally stood, Dr. Whitcomb smiled and handed her a neatly organized group of papers. It was Jenny’s term paper that was due in …

“Oh, my gosh!” Jenny yelled, turning to run in the direction of the Psych building. “I’m late for class!”

Dr. Whitcomb just smiled and shook his head as he watched Jenny sprint across the quad, narrowly avoiding another disaster.

“Your presentation was pretty good!” Angel told Jenny as they walked out of the building.

“Thanks.” Jenny wasn’t as confident as Angel about her presentation. She was super nervous and had forgotten one key point. The professor didn’t say anything about it, but Jenny saw her making notes as Jenny quickly returned to her seat.

“What is all this?” Angel’s comment brought Jenny back to reality. There were lots of people with signs and lots of shouting. Police were walking along the sidewalk, making sure each group stayed on its side. Jenny and Angel put their heads down and quickly moved along the sidewalk between the sides.

Suddenly there was the sound of a balloon popping and a scream. People began to run. Jenny reached out for Angel’s hand.

“Let’s go!” she urged as she started to move. Angel, however, didn’t run. Tugging her hand, Jenny searched for a safe exit from the crowd. She started to move and again Angel held back. Frustrated, Jenny turned to see what was the problem.

Angel stood looking down at the ground. Tears fell into the pool of red at her feet. Jenny looked down and then up at the red stain spreading across Angel’s thigh.

“Angel!” Jenny screamed. Angel looked up, staring at Jenny, her eyes full of fear and pleading. Angel’s lips moved, but no words came out. Jenny grabbed her as she swayed and sank slowly to the ground.

“No, no, no!” Jenny mumbled as she sat on the ground holding Angel close. People were running now, screaming “Active shooter!” and pointing toward the quad.

“Help us!” Jenny hollered at the people running by. One person stopped, looked at the blood, and then at Jenny. “Leave her!” he said. “They’re coming this way.”

“I can’t.” Jenny protested between sobs.

“Then you’ll die with her.” The person turned and ran away.

The crowd of runners thinned and Jenny could see a person moving slowly, deliberately toward she and Angel. The person turned and Jenny saw the barrel of the rifle as they pointed it at a body on the ground. There was a scream, a pop, and the body on the ground stopped moving. The rifle barrel disappeared as the shooter turned toward Jenny and started walking in her direction.

Desperate for help, Jenny glanced around. Angel was gasping in her lap. “Go.” She urged, weakly. “Save yourself.”

But Jenny held on, not moving. “I won’t leave you.”

Dressed in black, with a mask and a rifle, death drifted closer. I guess that’s the point, Jenny thought, as her eyes locked with those behind the mask.

Suddenly the entire scene shifted. Jenny wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t anything. It was as if she simply stepped out of the scene and was now watching events unfold. There she was sitting on the ground holding Angel. There was the shooter, a mere 10 feet from them. The shooter pointed the weapon at them. They were in no hurry to complete the task. Jenny watched as the barrel aligned with Angel’s head in her lap. Time all but stopped as Jenny watched the shooter’s finger slowly tighten against the trigger.

BAM!

This was no balloon. The sound of the shot brought everything back into focus. Suddenly Jenny was back on the ground, Angel’s head in her lap. The sounds of running, screaming all around her, the smell of burnt gunpowder stinging in her nostrils. She gasped as the shooter’s body fell to ground, just inches from her feet. Sightless eyes stared at her from behind the mask.

Jenny turned away and saw Dr. Whitcomb running up the sidewalk toward her, a pistol in his hand. He checked the shooter for a pulse and quickly moved the rife away from the body. He then turned to Jenny and Angel. Giving Jenny a quick check, he turned to Angel. Moving her out of Jenny’s lap, he ran his hands around the wound, checking front and back to see if the bullet had exited the body. Pulling out a handkerchief, he quickly covered the wound. He looked at Jenny, took her hand and put it on the handkerchief, pressing down to make sure she applied enough pressure to staunch the flow of blood.

Standing, Dr. Whitcomb looked around for help. Suddenly, several police officers came running toward them.

“Drop the gun!” an officer yelled. Dr. Whitcomb raised his hands and started to point to the shooter.

The shot rang out and Dr. Whitcomb dropped to his knees.

“No!” Jenny screamed.

The officers ran forward and kicked aside the gun that had fallen from Dr. Whitcomb’s hand. Dr. Whitcomb turned toward Jenny. There was sadness in his eyes. She watched the life leave them as his body fell next to the shooter.