The day our school had a bomb scare.

Laughter sounds along the halls, joined with excited conversations and shouts. Groups of middle
schoolers perched on the tables, gossiped and giggled like exotic birds. Out of the blue, a deafening
sound cuts through the loud jostling crowd. In the grip of panic all I could see was wide eyes, flailing
arms and trembling bodies. The evacuation alarm went on, rotating between seven different tensing
noises of varying pitch and volume. In the massive flow of students making their way to the main
gate of the school. I could feel my lungs struggling, lacking of air drove me gasping. My sweaty
hands dug deep down my pockets, to realize that I left my inhaler in the science lab.

I could feel the swollen airways and the effort my body had to made as quickly rushed to the science,
cutting through the crowd like a bird deflects the air. Coughing wildly I bumped into Mrs. Hoffman.
“Cheryl