“You need to get out of here,” whispers a grisly voice into John's ear. He turns his head to the right and sees no one. He turns his head again, twice as fast, when he feels a heavy hand on his left shoulder. Again, he sees no one. His spine tingles, and the hairs on his ears rise.

Behind John is a window; in front of him sit five other students. Shyquan is drooling, Aniyah is making dandruff hills on her desk, Kayla is shooting everyone in the room with various imaginary pistols and weapons, Xavier is asking permission to use the bathroom for the third time, and Kelvin is popping “gummy bears” as if he were eating potato chips.

“No one go anywhere. I'll be right back,” says Mr. Bakzrhazar, the dean monitoring detention, as he reads the Emergency Alert Message on his phone.

“Must have been a dream,” John wonders. Nevertheless, he heeds the warning and decides to find a way to get out of detention and leave the building. Soon after, one by one, he notices the other five people in the room, except Kelvin, also looking around as if they, too, are hearing tiny whispers.

Almost simultaneously, they all realize they are experiencing the same thing. Shyquan wipes his drool off on the sleeve of his cashmere sweater. “Did you guys also hear that man telling us to leave?”

“I heard a woman,” says Aniyah as she tries to hide the dandruff hill with her hands.

“Mine was a kid, couldn’t tell the gender,” says Kayla, pulling a pin from an imaginary grenade and throwing the explosive at Xavier, spreading her fingers.

“I couldn’t really hear my voice since it happened when Mr. Bakzrhazar was convincing me I didn’t need to go to the bathroom again,” says Xavier.

“What about you, John?” Kayla asks, throwing imaginary darts at John’s eyes.

“I heard it too. It sounded like an old woman to me. I think we need to find a way to leave right now.”

“I agree,” says Kelvin, who’s now playing Ghostbusters with gummy bears on his desk.

“You heard it too, right Kelvin?” asks Aniyah, sneezing and creating a small cloud of dandruff around herself that seems to linger unnaturally in the air.

“These janitors are robbing us blind,” says Kayla, assuming it’s just dust floating in the air.

While positioning four of the ghostbuster gummies to surround a gummy monster he made by smashing three into one, Kelvin says, “I’m always hearing voices. The funny bears—I mean gummy bears—quiet the voices down a bit, that’s all. At least I get less anxious about them. Glad it wasn’t just me for once in my life going crazy.”

“We have two options,” says Kayla. “Guerrilla warfare or bum rushing. I vote guerrilla style—it’s what mi gente are known for,” she says, starting to put on war paint with a Sharpie from her book bag.

“I’m not pounding anyone to death, and bum rushing is offensive on so many levels. How about just everyone for themselves, and good luck,” Aniyah claps back.

After drawing straws, they all agree on their order.

“Get back to your seats,” says their teacher as he walks back into the room.

Kelvin gets up. “Can I go to the bathroom? I haven’t gone all day, and I need to use it.”

“The janitor just started cleaning it, so you’ll have to wait.”

Kelvin rubs his left eye, walks up to the teacher, and says, “But my eyes are itching. I need to rinse them off. I think I have pink eye.”

“Unless you want to get sprayed with Lysol, get away from me. Sit down and don’t touch anything. Your immune system wouldn’t be so shitty—pun intended—if you hadn’t been eating gummies all day.”

Kelvin slumps back down and eats another gummy.

Xavier stands up.

“No,” says the teacher sternly. “You should’ve brought a doctor’s note if you have IBS or a UTI.”

Xavier sits back down.

John remembers the eerie voice, gets a shot of panic and adrenaline, and runs toward the exit.

“Don’t be stupid,” says the teacher without even looking up. He picks up a water bottle on his desk, used for plants, and sprays John.

John stops, wipes his face, and returns to his seat.

Kayla draws a quick, crude picture of herself on top of Mr. Bakzrhazar, clawing him like Wolverine. Red splatters everywhere on the page. She hands it to him.

He takes it and writes a note in his planner: Refer Kayla to the school psychologist. “Thank you. Have a seat,” he says, his head tilted to the side.

Shoulders slumped, she sits back down.

Everyone turns to Aniyah and gives her a look conveying, You are our last hope.

Aniyah picks up two straws from the garbage, turns them into a giant blowgun, fills it with dandruff, and clandestinely blows a cloud of dandruff into the dean’s face.

“What was that? Who did that? Damn lazy janitors!” He coughs and rubs his eyes vigorously. “I’ll be right back,” he says as he walks out of the room.

“Get out,” resonates in all their ears.

The six of them stand and rush to the door.

The dean yells, still partially blinded, “If anyone’s not in the exact same seat when I return, I’m going to give you five more weeks of detention.” His voice quivers slightly.

They all sit back down.

“Now what?” says John.

“I don’t care about another five weeks of detention. Let’s just leave; that voice was creepy as hell,” says Kayla.

“I hear ya, but five weeks isn’t worth it to break out. Let’s find another way,” says John.

Fifteen minutes later, the teacher hasn’t returned.

“Are you alright, Mr. Bakzrhazar?” yells Xavier.

No response.

Kelvin gets up, checks the hallway, and sees and hears nothing. “I think the building’s empty,” he tells the group.

They all hear the front door of the building open and close.

“Something spooky’s afoot here,” John says, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“He’d never leave his prey alone for this long willingly. Let’s go,” says Kayla.

“Mr. Bakzrhazar!” They take turns yelling as they get up and walk toward the exit.

When they finally get outside, they see Mr. Bakzrhazar shaking in front of the building, holding his heart, turning his head in every direction, searching for something.

“There he is,” says Kayla, throwing an imaginary net at him.

“Why did you leave us?” she asks. “You should’ve sent us home if you were going to leave.”

“The voice… there’s a voice. I think I’m going crazy. Haaa, I was having a panic attack. Sorry, I needed fresh air.”

The earth begins to sway back and forth. A streetlight swings and creaks in the distance. A flock of pigeons on a tree flaps away from them. Then suddenly, the school building collapses into itself.

The only thing left standing is a memorial plaque from 100 years ago, commemorating an earthquake that had shaken the school and ended the lives of several people in the same spot.

They all look at each other and the sinkhole, wide-eyed, some shaking, others frozen. Kayla initiates a tight group hug, grateful for the escape. “The voice stopped for me,” she says. Aniyah nods and pats John's shoulder to dust off some dandruff she’d left there.

“Anyone want a gummy?” asks Kelvin, his hand still holding the bag.

All their hands raise, including Xavier’s, who’s in a bush taking a piss.

“I’ll take two since you apparently forgot about me,” says Shyquan.

Murmurs of “Sorry” are expressed as everyone avoids eye contact with Shyquan.

“Joking! I slipped out the window when you all were plotting. Didn’t need any accomplices or deadweight for my escape.”

“If earthquakes are part of the equation, I promise to never break another school law again for as long as I live,” says Kayla.

“It’s not worth it. Can we leave now?” asks John, his lips twisted.

“Not sure that proctoring detention is worth it anymore either. Wait, what is worth it anymore?” Mr. Bakzrhazar mumbles to himself and shakes his head. “Yes, detention is over,” he says and dials 911. “Feel free to go home guys, I'll wait for whoever’s coming to check out the wreckage.”

“I need someone to check the wreckage in my brain,” Aniyah says as she stares at the bent steel beams and fallen bricks. 

Avoiding eye contact, Kelvin says, “If anyone wants to come over to my house now or later and scream, cry, or laugh, be my guest. We all survived this together for a reason. You too, Mr. Bakzrhazar.” He walks away munching gummies without waiting for a response.

One after the other, they follow him slowly.

“Thought we were forming a team. Where’s Shyquan? Every squad needs a scout,” says Kayla, releasing an imaginary drone to track him.

“We all cope differently. He’s probably already there,” says Kelvin.