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cubicle.
    Zoe pulls Natalie farther away from the door. There’s no lock on the washroom door, no surprise. One cubicle. Three urinals. A partition between the door and the urinals.
    More gunshots, and now there is no denying it—the shots are very close.
    I push Zoe and Natalie into the cubicle. “Get up on the toilet. If the shooter just looks under the door, maybe he’ll think no one is in here.”
    It’s lame and we all know it. Natalie starts to cry again.
    I say, “Of course, if he hears us, he’ll blast us all.”
    Natalie shuts up.
    Baker crouches with his feet on the toilet seat. He must have size thirteen feet, and there is no way we’re all going to fit up there with him, not unless one of us stands in the toilet, which I’m prepared to do right about now.
    More gunfire and it’s close. Even in the washroom, I can hear screaming voices from the classrooms. The shooter can’t get into the classrooms, not with the lockdown. I guess he could blow a classroom door lock, but from the way he’s moved through the school, it appears more random. He doesn’t seem to be spending much time in any one place.
    Natalie and Zoe fold themselves around Baker on the toilet seat. Natalie pulls out her phone.
    Everyone with a cell phone must have phoned 911 by now. Where the hell are the cops?
    Zoe says, “Natalie, you’re not actually calling someone, are you?”
    Natalie gives Zoe a “yeah, duh” look.
    Zoe says, “Because you can’t make a sound.”
    Natalie says, “Oh. Right.” And she closes the phone.
    More shots and they’re so close that I don’t stop to think about it. I jump up onto the toilet seat. If I face the door of the cubicleand perch with only my heels on the seat, I can just fit.
    The gunshots stop. I want to reach for Zoe, I want to hear her voice. As if Baker can read my mind, he whispers, “Easy, man.”
    For a long time it’s quiet. Then I hear two things. First, the classroom noise filtering into the hallway gets louder. That means someone has opened the washroom door. I feel Baker tense. I’d like to scream except I can’t even breathe. The second sound I hear is the chirpy ringtone of Natalie’s cell phone.
    Thank you, Natalie. We might as well hang a sign on the door,
Here we are
.
    She silences the phone.
    Sweat runs into my eyes but I don’t dare move to wipe it away. Baker is weirdly still. The hallway sound recedes and I hear the washroom door close. Is he gone? Did he leave?
    Footsteps. Heavy footsteps. He’s here.
    My knees go liquid and it’s all I can do to keep my balance.
    The footsteps pause outside the cubicle.I hear him laugh, softly at first, then more loudly. Then the cubicle door opens.
    He’s wearing a blue shirt with buttons and a pocket. He’s got a gun in his hand. Our eyes lock. He stops laughing.
    The shooter is Josh.
    The gun comes up.
    Maybe I’ll stop the bullets. Maybe Baker won’t get hit. Maybe Josh will shoot me and leave the others.
    I feel suddenly ice cold.
    I watch Josh close his finger over the trigger.
    Did I feed the dog this morning? I can’t remember if I fed the dog.
    I smell piss.
    The sound of the gun rockets inside my head, and I clamp my eyes closed and scream. Everyone is screaming, even Josh, and then he shoots again and it’s totally dark inside the washroom.

Chapter Seven
    Somewhere it registers that I’m not dead, but it takes Baker stepping into the toilet bowl to convince me. Baker shakes off his foot, cursing. I feel drops of toilet water spray my face. Okay, I’m not dead.
    I stumble off the toilet seat, my legs barely able to take my weight. “Zoe?” Broken glass crunches under my feet. “Zoe!”
    â€œI’m fine.” I feel her hands on my chest. “Are you hurt?”
    â€œNo.” My voice is a croak.
    I hear the snap of a lighter, and Baker’s face