The Hero

I could hear my heart slamming against my ribcage at a hundred miles per hour. My breaths were slow, steady, and forced. I had to concentrate with every ounce of my being to remind myself to breathe. In and out. One. Two. Three. Four. In then out. Just like my therapist taught me. The locker room’s clock ticking sounded like thunder in a library. I focused my breaths in and out with the rhythm of that clock, hoping it would quiet down just a tad. My sweat burned my eye as it dripped from my forehead. Tears were nowhere to be found and frankly would only make things worse at a moment like this.

Closing my eyes, I strained my ears. Periodically, I would hear a foot shuffle or a slight whimper and that was what scared me the most. If he heard us or had any indication of where we were, he would find us. Leaning in, I listened harder. I hardly noticed my cheek as it brushed the cold metal as I focused on any noise I could pick up on. I wondered if the police came as it had been at least a few minutes, or perhaps a lifetime, or merely seconds since the last shot.

  All I knew was that standing on the slippery porcelain of the toilet was not an ideal situation for what we were dealing with. There were a few times that my leg cramped up so badly I had to stretch, causing me to almost slip, or at the very least let out a scuffle from the stall I was hiding in. I also knew that there were at least three other people in there with me, students I had assumed. I wasn’t sure who. It seemed to be a mutual agreement when we heard the commotion that we automatically would remain quiet. No conversation was held. The proverbial pin drop would be too loud.

The truth was, I never left my stall. Once I heard the first shot, I wasn’t sure what had happened, my first thought was a firecracker in the gymnasium. I had finished doing my business when a few or maybe even several people came running in and screaming that we were in an active shooter situation. I didn’t really believe them because in the drills we would have they always announced it over the intercom, “Attention, there is an active shooter on campus, this is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill.” That didn’t happen. Seems ridiculous to me that was how they trained us, but they didn’t use it. Unless, of course, they couldn’t. I wouldn’t let my mind go there though; my mom worked in the front office. I refused to believe that she was in a situation where she couldn’t say something because something terrible happened to her. I decided to believe she was in a bathroom somewhere too.  

Gym class, that’s where I belonged. We were supposed to be running a mile today. I, being the asthmatic, out of shape, never landing a date, nerd, despised running the mile. I’d much rather complain of a stomachache and sit on the toilet while playing games on my phone. Part of me wondered if outside, running a mile would have been better. At least that way, I could have run the mile or so it took to go home. Unless, of course, the shooter came from the football field. That could have been terrible because an open track and field with only one small trail to escape may not have been a better situation at all. In this case, just to keep my mind at ease, I decided the bathroom was the best option for me.

I heard the crack of gunfire again. There were 6 shots this time and then another six. It sounded like it was getting closer. I pursed my mouth trying to maintain silence, tasting the salt on my lips as I did so. Someone in the bathroom with us let out a small whimper at the sound of the shots. Someone else shushed them. I wondered if they were huddled in a corner somewhere or if we were all in stalls. I had no idea, but I wasn’t going to ask, either. I knew the thin metal wouldn’t protect me from a bullet, but I did stand a better chance than having no metal at all. That is of course unless the gunman pointed the gun from above or under the stall. Then I had no chance at all. That was another reason to ask for private bathrooms, or at least full stalls at the next school board meeting. Assuming there would ever be a board meeting again.

 I silently wondered if anyone had called the police. I didn’t hear cops in the background. I had my phone in my hand still, but I didn’t know if I should risk the noise of calling them. My assumption was automatically that they knew. Then I remembered the Uvalde situation and how it took the cops over an hour to save the kids from inside the school. That thought forced my gut to drop some. Honestly, that single thought was probably the first time in my life that I had ever felt hopeless. I immediately pushed that thought away.

I decided to press the volume button all the way down to make sure my phone was silent. Then, making sure that battery saver was on, so the screen wouldn’t vibrate at all, I texted my dad. Not wanting to risk anything else and knowing my dad was diligent about reading his messages quickly, I shoved my phone into my pocket as quietly as I could. My hands were too sweaty.

You know how it takes many wrong moves to cause something to happen? For example, if a person is driving and eating and a kid is chasing a ball into the road, the forces come together in some unhealthy way and a major accident takes place. Or a pitcher pitches a ball that is just a bit too inside and the batter goes to swing at it anyway, suddenly a fan is holding up a ball and the batter gets a strike costing him the game. Well, that’s kind of what happened.

My phone slid right out of my hand. It landed in the toilet, making a bit of a noise. The noise was unexpected. It must have frightened one of the girls that was hiding in there with us. She let out a shriek. That shriek startled me. I slipped off the edge of the toilet. If luck was with me, I would have been able to get back up, brush myself off, and nobody would have heard a thing. Unfortunately, luck was not with me. Instead, I slipped off the toilet. My legs flung out under the stall. My head landed in the toilet. The porcelain cradled my neck as my hair soaked in toilet water. If that didn’t make me want to throw up, the next part did.

The students that were in the bathroom with me shuffled over to see if I was okay. The stall was still locked, so they were trying to pull me from under the stall. When that didn’t work, another student climbed over the stall and crashed next to me. They then unlocked my stall, exposing me to the rest of the people in the bathroom. All of this caused too much commotion. The bathroom door opened with a bang. The three people who were at my feet huddled together, trying to scream, but it was just air. They had no voice.

I heard the footsteps fast approaching. My head was throbbing and still sitting somewhat awkwardly in the toilet bowl. I was awake just enough to feel the gunman standing at my feet. I could sense him staring at me. My heart rhythm felt like a singular beat. It was pounding so fast that I wouldn’t have been able to count the beats if I tried.

I heard the gun shifting, but nothing happened. I knew the guy was still standing there. Scared, I squeezed my eyes shut waiting for the impact of the bullets to ricochet through my body. At that point, I had no hope. I was fully exposed and vulnerable to the guy standing directly over me. Holding my breath, I waited. Nothing happened. I waited some more.

The next thing I hear is a faint grumble. I had no idea what that was, but I was too frozen to try and figure it out. I still waited and nothing happened. Time is relative, so the length I waited, I have no idea. However, eventually, the guy let out a faint grumbly laugh and said, “You have it worse than I do.” That’s when I felt him moving away. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but as I heard him step back, I braced myself. Nothing.

Moments, perhaps seconds, minutes, or even hours later, I heard the door to the bathroom open. Shots were fired in repetition, but they were definitely not the same shots I had heard before. Time is of the essence, but a while later I heard the door fling open again. Again, another gasp, but no scream. This time the voice was recognizable. It was my mom.

That day will go down in the books as another school shooting. It was likely the most unsuccessful school shooting in all of history. The gunman injured one person, the principal, and they are expected to make a full recovery. From what I heard, the guy taking his time in the bathroom gave the police the ability to surround the door to the bathroom and take care of business. I was given a hero badge. All because I fell in the toilet. So, yeah, I am the out-of-shape, asthmatic nerd, who saved the school because their head fell into a toilet and the gunman felt sorry for me. Talk about embarrassing. But at least now I can land a date.