Now, this is another bit of a filler. However, because I love you guys very much and thank you for your reviews, favorites, and follows, I will update twice today! Stay tuned, everyone! Love you guys.
Summary: McKinley High goes on lockdown with Marley and Kitty stuck in the choir room together. Karley.
Characters: Marley R. and Kitty
Rating: T
SHOOTING DAY, 4:24 P.M.
Andrew Wilde grasped the still warm handle of the coffee pot, pouring himself another cup and rolling his eyes when a drop overflowed, staining his skin. "Andrew?" It came from the other room, and he straightened himself.
"Yes?" He asked, putting the coffee mug down and stepping through the door towards the living room, smiling as he saw that his wife was home from work.
Vanessa Wilde stepped inside and took off her coat, hanging it on the hooks by the door. "Is Kitty home yet?" She asked, looking around for her daughter.
"She's walking today," Andrew said and looked at his watch. Perhaps she was late coming home, maybe she had stayed behind to fix some grades.
"Oh, right," Vanessa said and made a face like she remembered, which of course she didn't. "Why aren't you picking up your phone?" She asked, having tried to call him three times today and being met only with his voice mail.
"I left it on my desk at the office," he explained, and his wife rolled her eyes.
"Typical," he heard her mutter, and she disappeared into the kitchen.
The house was strangely silent without the presence of his daughter there. Andrew shook his head lightly, and the shrill ringing of the house phone cut through the air like a knife. "Get the phone," he called to his wife, but she was upstairs and didn't hear him.
Sighing, he walked towards the phone and picked it up, pressing the device to his ear and listening only half-heartedly. "Please hold," a mechanized voice said, and Andrew nearly smashed the phone down before he heard the next few words. "Mr. Wilde," a voice said, and this time it was a real, human voice that sounded remotely regretful. "We'd like to ask you and your wife to please come to the police station…" Andrew furrowed his brow in confusion.
"Why?" He asked, his tone unwillingly harsh and rude.
"There is a matter concerning your daughter," the voice said, and Andrew felt his temper flare. What had Kitty done this time?
"We'll be right there," he promised, and he nearly leapt up the stairs. "Vanessa," he said, his voice carefully monotone. "We need to get to the police station."
"Why?" She asked, poking her head out of the bathroom where she had been presumably fixing her hair again.
"Something about Kitty," he said, muttering. He was pissed, beyond pissed even.
Vanessa tutted and brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, rolling her eyes. "Let's go."
They got in their car and drove to the police station, the rough smell of new leather invading his nostrils and making his head hurt. They vaguely discussed punishment, grounding, banning her from activities other than studying and cheerleading.
"Unusual amount of sirens today," Vanessa remarked softly after the conversation waned a bit.
"Maybe a break-in," Andrew replied, his eyes scanning the road and his voice still monotone.
The traffic to the police station was heavy, and Andrew honked carefully, rolling his eyes, his temper flaring madly. Whatever Kitty had done, she would regret it.
SHOOTING DAY, 5:25 P.M.
After they had arrived at the police station, they had been shepherded into a giant room, the line stretching terribly. The line was nearly an hour long, and when they had finally reached the front, both of them were irritated and exhausted.
"What the hell is going on?" Andrew said when they were finally shown into a tiny room and asked to sit down in front of a desk where a tall, thin man waited to tell them.
"Mr. and Mrs. Wilde—" he began, his voice lilting and foreign.
"We want to know why we're here," Vanessa interrupted him and looked at her husband, who nodded forcefully.
"I'm getting to that," he said and ran a hand through his hair, messing up his already mussed hair even more. "Mr. and Mrs. Wilde," he began again, leaning forward slightly, his glasses pushed down to the bridge of his nose. "We are very sorry, but there has been an emergency at your child's school today…" that was all they heard. They sat back, stunned, as he explained the situation, starting at the gunshots.
"They're trapped inside the school?" Vanessa screeched, trying not to panic.
"We're very sorry," he repeated and pushed his glasses up, the dark brown frame standing out in clear contrast against his skin. "We don't know when she'll be getting home…" If she'll be getting home, he thought, but he didn't voice it.
"Who?" Vanessa asked, her voice forced.
"We're not sure at this time," the man said, sitting back in his chair and crossing his legs. "We believe—"
"I don't care what you believe!" Vanessa nearly shrieked and almost launched herself across the table, her husband's hand on her shoulder a reminder to calm the hell down.
"Mrs. Wilde, you are not the only parent in this situation!" The man behind the desk shouted, and Vanessa shrank back, her face a ghostly white.
"I'm sorry," she said, but it seemed like more of a formality than an actual statement. "I'm so sorry."
The man behind the desk nodded as if he were already used to these kinds of apologies and tapped his fingers on the desk. "I'm afraid we can't get in yet, you see," he said, sighing deeply. "We're trying to find a way to infiltrate the school without alerting the shooters," he explained, his shoulders sagging. "They've threatened to, well, go insane if we go inside."
Vanessa and Andrew nodded weakly. "We'll keep you updated," the man promised, and seemed to slump in his seat.
Andrew felt himself nod numbly and they stepped outside of the office, threading their way past waiting parents, still blissfully ignorant. "Vanessa!" They heard a cry from one of the waiting parents, and Vanessa Wilde wheeled around to see one of her acquaintances from church. Leaving her husband standing in line, she rushed towards her, grinning.
"What's going on?" The lady asked her, but Vanessa could only shake her head. The lady's smile slowly began to slip from her face. "Vanessa?"
The woman merely shook her head again and turned away, clutching to her husband's arm in support.