She walks into school Monday morning playing it cool. On the outside, she may appear to be in-control, but within, she's a train wreck, replaying everything about the weekend.
Those amazing kisses are lodged deep, but the euphoric feeling gets dulled every time she thinks of Nathan not being in touch. For hours yesterday, she kept looking at her phone to make sure that she hadn't missed his call. Her level of pathetic had disgusted her.
She'd had it, and taking matters into her own hands, she'd called him. The robotic female voice had directed her to leave a message, and she'd stammered her way through saying that she was just saying hello.
It worries her that he had been spooked out by what had happened between them in her living room, that he was thinking everything about that night was a mistake.
With the hundredth frustrated sigh of the morning, she weaves her way through students to get to her locker. She wants to groan when she finds Rachel leaning against it, lip-gloss in hand as she looks into the mirror of her locker. Haley wonders what exactly Rachel uses her locker for if not to stash wholesale amounts of beauty products.
"Excuse me."
Rachel cranes her neck, merely glancing at her before slowly moving her body aside. They ignore each other, Haley just staring at her books while attempting to raise her spirits.
The concern about Nathan's whereabouts and his views about what they are swell in her head. Maybe it was all a dare from his jock friends on whether the nerdy tutor would give in to his charms. If that's the case, score ten for Nathan, nil for her.
Out of thin air, Peyton thumps into the locker beside hers. "I heard that you had a guest Saturday night."
Rachel snorts from beside them, piping, "Your grandmother?"
Not in the mood to take her nasty attitude, Haley turns her back to her. "Good morning to you, too, Peyton."
Peyton grins, wiggling her eyebrows. "Guten Morgen. So? Was he really there?"
She can only imagine what words Lucas used to describe how horrified he was at finding Nathan at her house.
Leaning in closer, Haley says, "He came by, but…"
"But what?" Peyton prompts, head tipped to the side, face rolling into inquisitiveness.
Haley shakes her head, grappling with her thoughts. Logic tells her that she's just over-thinking things, and expecting too much too soon. Yet, it doesn't feel right that he's vanished.
"Nothing."
Peyton lightly pinches her arm. "Not nothing. What's up?"
"I'm wondering if he changed his mind about me," she answers, seeing no point in pretending.
"You haven't talked?"
Her embarrassment increases. She shifts uncomfortably. "I, uh, I tried to get in touch with him but he was unreachable."
Peyton raises her eyebrows. Haley stands upright and shrugs, as if to release some of her shame.
"I'm losing my head. I've never experienced anything like this before, and I…I don't know what to expect."
Peyton grins at her. "You really like him."
A deep burn spreads over Haley's cheeks at her friend's low, teasing tone. "Yes, I do."
"There must be a valid reason why he's not in touch."
And she hopes that one of them does not involve a girl who is more exciting and in his league.
"So what about you and Lucas?" Haley asks, her mouth lifting in a half smile as she diverts the conversation while her dignity is still intact.
Peyton grins in a coy manner. "We had fun. I was glad to realize that he hates dancing as much as I do."
Behind them, metal is banged shut like in fury. "You've got to be kidding me. You and Lucas? Lucas Scott?"
Rachel's infuriating voice works on Haley's black mood, but before she can retort, piercing screams tear through the air.
Pushing away from the locker, Haley looks down the hallway as chaos erupt. Notebooks and school bags are dropping to the ground like flies, while students with horror-stricken faces are running hectically. Above the noise, something that sounds like a gunshot rips through the air.
For the briefest moment, everyone is frozen before the screams start up again. Terror smites Haley as she watches the approaching stampede. Her body is turning to ice while her mind comprehends what is happening. A gunshot? That can't be right.
Her back rams against the locker, and she's yanked out instantly from the trance.
"We gotta go, Haley!"
Peyton's hand is gripping her arm tightly and she's dragging her towards the exit. Another shot rings out and they are both suddenly falling as screaming students crash hard into them, throwing them off balance and to the ground.
Shielding her head from people's feet, Haley blindly grabs for Peyton and hauls her to her feet. Through the terror seeping through sharply, she takes a quick glance at the exit. It's too crowded for them to make it out safely. She diverts her attention to the opposite hallway that leads to the library and computer lab.
"This way!" she yells above the noise, linking her fingers to Peyton's.
Yet another shot explodes behind them but Haley doesn't look back. Her eyes dart from one side of the hallway to the next, looking for somewhere to hide.
Puffing, she bursts through the swinging door of the library. When Peyton is in, too, she pushes it shut. Her fingers are shaking as she rises on tiptoes to raise the slide-rod lock at the top of the door.
"Code red, code red! This is not a drill!" Principal Turner's breathless voice comes over the speakers in the library. "I repeat, code red, code red! This is not a drill!"
Scared stiff, Haley moves to where Peyton is, sliding against the wall to sit on the floor and catch her breath. What is happening?
"Peyton, are you okay?"
A hard slam against the door makes them scream out.
"Open up! Please!"
She's about to rise to her feet when Peyton grabs her arm. "Don't open it."
"Please let me in!" the person on the other side screams.
"We can't just leave her out there, Peyton."
"What if she's the one with the gun!?"
Haley hesitates, but at the girl's desperate screams, she's sliding the lock and letting her in. The redhead is the last person she was expecting. Her eyes glide from Haley to Peyton, a gasp passing her lips when she looks at Peyton. Colour drains from her face as she slithers to the floor on the other side of the door.
Haley sits beside Peyton, raising her trembling hands to her face, her mind reeling in complete shock at what is happening. Someone brought a gun to school. Someone aimed that gun at people and pulled the trigger.
"We have to get out of here," Haley stammers in a harsh whisper, whipping her head to the side. "We have to get out of here."
Peyton's face is ashen and clammy, and there are tears in her eyes. The blonde's mouth puckers open but no words come out.
"What is it?"
Her eyes stray to her leg, and Haley follows her line of vision. There's a huge stain on her jeans around her left calf that surrounds a tattered piece of the fabric. The dark stain seems to increase in size with every passing second.
Haley can feel the blood draining from her face as she raises her eyes to Peyton. That is not water.
"What—"
Through the closed doors, a shot cuts the silence. Peyton cries out. On impulse, Haley holds a hand over her mouth, murmuring, "Shhh."
Her heart is in her throat as she rapidly looks around the vast room. Peyton has been shot. Peyton has been shot. Peyton has been shot.
"We…we gotta hide, Peyt, okay?" she whispers. "We can't stay here. We need to find someplace safe."
She feels Peyton nods slightly, and slowly, she drops her hand from around Peyton's mouth. She turns to the girl in the cheerleading uniform curled up in a ball, face buried in her folded thighs.
"Rachel. Rachel. We have to move."
Her mascara has smeared around her eyes, dark smudges on her cheeks. "What?"
"We have to get out of here."
Rachel nods, wiping at her cheeks while looking around the library. "W-we could break the windows and get out."
Haley shakes her head. "The windows are just for light. They…they go to the courtyard. It's enclosed."
"So we're supposed to wait this out!?" Rachel asks harshly.
Haley doesn't answer, trying to think fast. They're too out in the open here, at risk of getting caught and shot.
"Librarian's office."
There's nothing safe about it. They're up against someone who has a gun. Unless the librarian's office is made of bulletproof material, they are not safe. But they have nowhere else to go.
Winding her arm around Peyton's waist, Haley supports herself on her heels, feeling bold. "We'll have to make a run for it. Can you do that?"
Peyton nods, croaking, "Yeah."
"Okay. On the count of three."
Haley helps her up slowly, all the while praying that the gun-toting maniac is nowhere close to finding them. Quickly, she flips the light switch, engulfing the library in semi-darkness.
She points Rachel to the corner office, urging her to run. "Turn off the lights before we get there."
Rachel runs ahead, pushing the door to the librarian's office and turning off the lights.
"Hurry up," Rachel whispers, her eyes looking behind them to the main door.
Peyton's steps are measured as they move past tables and cubicles, and Haley keeps muttering reassuringly, "We're almost there."
They're both panting heavily when they get to the office, Peyton falling to the carpeted floor with a grunt. Haley locks the door, pushing the desk against it for good measure before sitting beside Peyton and taking her hand.
"I should find something to patch you up."
In the dim light, she can see that Peyton is winded. "I hate this."
"We'll get help," she says encouragingly.
"How?" Rachel asks from the corner she's in, hugging her legs tightly.
She doesn't know. The anxiety is rising as she goes about locating a First Aid kit, or something that they can use to stop the bleeding. To think that her biggest problem minutes ago was Nathan's lack of communication is a joke.
"Does anyone have their cell phone?" she asks in a low whisper.
Peyton mumbles a no, while Rachel shakes her head. Their bags and their things are in the mess that's in the hallway. On all fours, Haley crawls to the desk, opening drawers cautiously. In the back of the top drawer, she finds the red kit she was looking for. In relief, she rifles through it, seeing that it's half-stocked. It will have to do.
"It doesn't hurt," Peyton says weakly, attempting a smile.
From where she is, Haley sees Rachel pale further, a groan passing her lips. They may not be bosom buddies, but she feels sorry for her.
"Are you hurt?" she asks.
"I'm fine," Rachel grumbles, eyes shut. "I'm just…not good with blood."
Moistening her dry lips, Haley gulps hard, placing the kit on the floor and reaching for the hem of Peyton's jeans.
"No!" Peyton almost screams, her hand curling around Haley's wrist.
"We have to stop the bleeding," Haley explains calmly, yet scared out of her mind.
Her friend has been shot and she has no idea what the hell she's doing. She's relying on the memory of a few First Aid classes she took in junior high.
"Let me just take a look at it."
Her eyes are pleading with Peyton, and finally, Peyton loosens her hold. Willing herself to stop shaking, Haley takes out the pair of scissors in the kit.
"I hope they're not your favourite jeans."
She tries to make the comment light, but they're both so tense that the humour is lost. She cuts slowly and carefully until the jeans fall open, revealing the wound. She wants to start crying and screaming at the metal embedded in Peyton's skin, blood leaking over the lead and trickling down her leg. Rachel moans from behind them.
"Is it bad?" Peyton whispers shakily, eyes squeezed shut.
"It's…" Haley doesn't know what to say.
Peyton's eyes fly open, her hand squeezing Haley's arm in urgency. "Get it out of me."
Blinking hard, Haley focuses on her friend's pale and determined face. "What?"
"Get it out. I don't want it there."
Haley stares at her incredulously. "I-I can't. I don't—"
"Are you crazy?" Rachel growls from the corner of the office.
"No. You have to get it out," Peyton says steadfastly, ignoring Rachel.
"I don't…What…" Haley's voice trails off, her mind starting to shut down at Peyton's request.
The biggest wound she's ever treated was a pebble wedged in her knee after she fell from a tree when she was ten. A pebble cannot even compare to a bullet; it cannot just be flicked off with her finger.
Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, Peyton snatches the kit from the floor, rummaging through it. Her hands are shaking. She pulls out tweezers and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, thrusting them at Haley.
"You can use these."
Haley stares at the brown bottle, open-mouthed. It's as if she's just been told to jump off a plane that's careening towards the earth, and she's to use a parachute when she's never used one before.
"Peyton, I can't—"
"I don't want to die, Haley!" she cries, wetness on her cheeks.
"You could die if I get it out!"
"I d-don't want to d-die…"
She feels tears running down her face as she looks at her friend, unable to imagine what kind of pain she's going through. "What if removing it messes with something? You could bleed out."
"D-do this for me. Please."
They stare at each other for seconds, both of them crying.
"Please, Haley."
Haley takes a deep breath and makes a decision. With hard resolve, she unzips her sweatshirt and holds it out to Peyton. What the hell is she agreeing to?
"Scream into this."
Rachel is then grabbing Haley's wrist roughly, the hoodie falling to the floor. "Are you seriously going to do this? You're not a doctor!"
Peyton's hand finds Rachel's and tugs it away. "It's my life, Rachel! Back off!"
"You might as well be handing your life over to some quack!"
"Would you rather do it?" Peyton growls angrily. "You're not the one with a bullet in her damn leg, Rachel, so just keep your opinions to yourself!"
"Both of you, hush!"
They're all bordering on hysterical.
Huffing out a long breath, Peyton grips Haley's arm more tightly. "Do it, Hales."
Haley nods, and turning to Rachel says, "You should close your eyes."
She waits for Rachel to retreat to a corner. Taking a ball of cotton wool, Haley pours out the hydrogen peroxide into it and then wipes her sweaty hands with it. She does the same for the tweezers, cleaning the blades to sterilize it.
Settling herself closer to Peyton, she raises her eyes, bottle in hand. Peyton is trembling, but her eyes look hardened with grit.
"I'll pour some of this over the wound and then get the bullet out with the tweezers."
Peyton nods faintly and grips the hoodie to her face. Tipping the bottle, Haley watches the clear liquid come in contact with Peyton's skin. She shuts out the heavy, muffled screams, and leaning over with the tweezers, she concentrates on dislodging the bullet.
"What a lousy morning," Peyton mumbles.
Looking up from tying the last bandage around Peyton's leg, Haley gives her a wan smile. She then looks over at Rachel, whose back is turned away and her head is between her legs.
"I'm done, Rachel."
"You guys are crazy," she says hoarsely, not looking up. "Crazy."
Haley rips open a packet of aspirin, laying out two pills on Peyton's palm. "You'll have to swallow them dry."
Her neck bobs as she struggles to gulp them down. Haley's worry is increasing as she looks at the beads of sweat on Peyton's whitish face. She places the back of her hand on Peyton's forehead. Her skin is extremely heated despite its paleness. She takes a sleeve of the hoodie and gently dabs it over Peyton's face.
"He's a deep guy," Peyton says quietly.
Haley sits next to her and draws her knees to her chest. "Who?"
"Lucas. I didn't even really look at him all those years before, but now…I just want to see him."
Peyton sighs softly and shakes her head. "There's nothing like a gunshot wound in your leg to bring things into perspective."
Haley slides her arm around Peyton's shoulders, scooting closer to her. "He's one of the cool ones, remember?"
"Yeah. He's the guy who stays, and I'm the girl who leaves."
She tips her head back slightly. "After a fight with Brooke, I took off to L.A. for three months."
Her eyelids begin fluttering.
"I'm really tired, Haley," she mumbles.
Haley cannot begin to imagine what Peyton is feeling. She's lost a lot of blood, the wound in her leg is not sutured up, and if they don't get out soon, things could turn fatal.
"I know, but you gotta stay awake, Peyt, okay? You might go into shock."
She nods slowly, inhaling a long breath.
"Tell me about a good day," Haley urges her. Talking may keep her awake.
A weak smile ghosts over Peyton's dry lips. "Snow day. Sixth grade. Do you remember?"
Haley nods, recalling staying in with her mom, curling up on the couch, drinking hot chocolate and watching old movies.
"It was like this whole other world just came in overnight and took ours away. And Brooke…"
She smiles sadly, closing her eyes briefly. "Brooke came over, and we made a snow fort. With a tunnel."
Her head falls onto Haley's shoulder.
"We stayed inside there all day, and it seemed so safe. Like…like everything was okay," she says in a grating whisper, eyes drooping.
"Today, it's not okay. It's not safe."
She chokes out a sob, tears falling down her pale cheeks. In comfort, Haley rests her cheek on top of Peyton's head, trying not to cry, too.
Moments pass in silence until it's broken with, "I used to be fat."
They both turn to Rachel. Her face may be streaked with redness and most of her makeup is gone, but she's no longer crying. She's staring at them with a cool expression.
"My mother would tell me that people expected fat people to be cheerful and funny. It was a choice between fat and jolly or fat and bitchy. I had a lot of anger about everything that had been thrown at me, but because I was fat, I had to pretend that I found humour in it all. If I didn't like you, I had to pretend that I did because people tolerate fat people when they're funny. They'll make less fun of you when you take it in stride."
A flat smile comes to her lips. "A year ago when I turned sixteen, I lost a hundred pounds and I got my dad to pay for some surgery. Now I'm skinny, I have a great nose, and I'm bitchy with or without reason. After years of losing out, I hate it when I don't get what I want. I hate it when guys choose someone else over me."
"What does that have to do with anything?" Haley asks in confusion.
"It has to do with your buddy acting all pouty about Brooke."
Rachel's eyes are steady as they focus on Peyton, who is now sitting upright. "Brooke told me about you, Peyton. She told me about you choosing a guy over your friendship. Caleb Armstrong, wasn't it?"
Haley thinks she imagines it but she sees a look of shame fall over Peyton's face before it's gone.
"There are two sides to every story," Peyton says in a low whisper, glancing at Haley quickly from the corner of her eye.
"Yeah, but I like Brooke better than I like you."
"Because Lucas didn't return your affections?" Haley asks, miffed at the way Rachel is treating Peyton.
Rachel shrugs, that flat smile turning up into something completely scheming. "I'm not too worried. There's another Scott brother in the school, too."
Forget feeling sorry for Rachel and her inability to handle blood.
She can't tell how long they've been there. Wiggling her toes in her sneakers, Haley dabs at her brow with the back of her wrist. All may be quiet around them but instead of finding comfort in the silence, she has a sense of unease.
Worst of all, they have no way out. The office has no windows that they can crawl out of, they don't have their cell phones, and the landline in the office is not working.
She takes a peek at Peyton; she's quite frail and fragile as she trembles and shivers, her skin a pasty, sickly colour.
"What are you thinking?" Peyton asks, teeth chattering.
Sighing heavily, Haley twists to face Peyton. "We need to get out of here."
Peyton's body stills for a moment, face contorting into a look of controlled terror. "Go back out there?"
"No. There has to be another way out."
The silence is so eerie that she can't stop imagining someone tiptoeing into the library and finding them hiding out in the office, and then shooting them point blank.
"Where? The only way out is…"
A shuddering breath passes Peyton's pale lips and she shuts her eyes. Turning away from how ill she looks, Haley's eyes stray over Peyton's shoulder. A bookcase, a socket and an air vent.
The notion flits through her mind quickly and she hangs onto it as it starts to take shape.
Eyes darting from side to side, she takes Peyton's cool hand and rubs it soothingly in both of hers. "We don't know how many they are, but they could be crazy enough to come out here looking for people. They will find us."
Peyton nods feebly. "What…what do we do?"
With a slight jerk of her head, Haley points to the wall. Peyton seems a shade lighter when she faces her.
"The air vent?"
Haley nods, her body rocking with wild terror at the absurdity of the situation. Her friend has been shot, and now she's suggesting that they find safety in the air vents of the school. She just doesn't think that they have a choice.
Peyton's stretching out her leg slowly, looking like she's in excruciating pain as she does so.
"We'll go slow," Haley assures her, squeezing her shoulder. "I won't leave you behind."
Peyton lets out a short laugh, raising her glassy green eyes. "Do not start on the movie clichés."
With a dry laugh of her own, Haley puts her arms around Peyton in a hug. They lean their heads together, Peyton's hand patting Haley's bare arm.
"We'll be okay, Peyt. You'll see."
Holding back her tears, Haley pulls away, raising her head to look over the door's glass window. There's no one in sight.
Hurriedly, she stuffs all the bloodied dressings at the bottom of the litterbin. Then, she pushes the table away from the door, putting it rightfully in its place. Like they were never there, and tidy enough not to make someone look harder.
She's shaking with fear and apprehension as she crawls towards the vent. She inserts her fingers into the horizontal breaks to drag it out. It takes effort but it finally gives in, leaving her falling on her backside, her fingers stuck in.
Blowing out stray strands of hair from her face, she looks over at the two girls, asking, "Who will go first?"
Peyton hesitates, and then shakes her head. "I'll just slow us down if I lead."
A deafening shot rings out, one that sounds much too close for comfort.
"I'll go first," Rachel rushes in.
Panic rising, Haley scrambles to her knees, peering into the vent. The scent of dank and dust is thick in the air, and the space is big enough for them to fit through.
"Okay. Let's go. I'll have to put this back behind us," she says, trying to control the quiver in her voice. She doesn't know where they're going, just as long as they're out of reach.
Rachel doesn't waste a moment, sliding her body through the space until she's sure she's given Peyton enough room to crawl through. Haley watches Peyton struggling, dragging her injured leg, panting heavily. When they're both a little ahead, Haley slides in, twisting her body slightly to replace the vent cover and jiggling it some before it settles correctly with a snap. She exhales with a whoosh, giving the other girls a nod.
Rachel faces forward, starting slowly for heaven-knows-where. Their elbows are their support as they drag their bodies onward, Peyton having to use her unharmed leg, too. They sneeze a time or two, which makes them stop in horror about being caught.
They've not gone very far when they hear loud voices that are beyond the entrance of the air vent. No one moves, each of them bug-eyed and trembling. They don't talk but they say enough with their eyes. The loud voices in the distance are moving closer and closer.
"Let's go," Rachel says urgently, already on the move. She stops when the voice booms around the library.
"Police! Anyone here?"
Exhaling loudly, Haley's shoulders shake when she realizes that help is here.
"Don't answer. Maybe it's them," Rachel says softly.
Haley nods, trying to breathe calmly. In stillness, they wait.
The door to the librarian's office squeaks open. "Hello, anybody here?"
A loud thump then comes from Peyton, reverberating in the hollowness. They both look at her still and silent body.
"Hello?"
Rachel shakes her head, tears in her eyes. The rattling of the air vent cover has Haley overwrought with terror.
She's already screaming when the man in black is in view. She kicks at him as his hand reaches for her leg, not caring that a bullet is no match for a few kicks, and could easily shut her up. If she dies, she's not going down without a fight.
"Wait! Wait!" he says loudly.
The tall, heavyset man removes his helmet, his copper-coloured hair matted to his scalp. "I'm here to help!"
He holds out a shiny gold badge resting on a chain over the bulletproof vest. "Police."
Sobs echo around the space as Haley and Rachel burst out into tears. Trembling from relief and fright, Haley slides out of the vent, unable to stand from her quaking limbs. They're safe, but how bad is it out there?
"My friend is hurt," she says hoarsely, wiping at her cheeks. "Peyton?"
Peyton doesn't answer, and fearfully, Haley pokes her head into the air vent. She's motionless, hands above her head, palms flat on the floor of the vent. Alarm jumps to Haley's throat.
"Peyton! For heaven's sake, Rachel, wake her up!"
Rachel moves backwards, tapping at Peyton's arm with the tip of her shoe. "Peyton!"
The blonde moans softly but she doesn't move. Desperate, Haley tugs at her uninjured foot violently.
"Peyton! Peyton!"
She jolts awake, her head jerking up.
"Are we there yet?" she mumbles tiredly.
Breathing hard, Haley shuts her eyes briefly out of sheer relief and falls back on the wall. After that, she's dimly aware of being helped up by someone, watching as more people enter the library, a hysterical Rachel being escorted out.
Questions are hurled at her but she can barely think straight, her answers short and incoherent to her ears. She just wants to curl up into a corner and weep. Peyton, passed out again, is laid out on a stretcher, and the sight of her like that has all senses returning for Haley. She takes Peyton's hand, walking beside the stretcher as it is wheeled out of the library.