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the exit markers. The vast silence of thespace greets me with the coolness of a cave. I’m aware of the sound of my breath, panting, as if I’d been running. I blink, trying to get used to the murky darkness of the theater. Finally, I can make out the rows of seats and the stage area, below.
    I remember this from when Josh and I sat in here. If you sit still and don’t make a sound, it’s dark enough that someone could look in and not see you. It’s like the way a rabbit stays still, and its brown fur makes it disappear in the grass. The rabbit is there, but unless you know it’s there, you’ll never see it. So it’s like it’s not there.
    If Josh is sitting quietly in the theater, he could be watching me right now and I wouldn’t know it. New sweat squirts under my arms. I scan the rows. If he’s crouched down between the seats, I’d never see him. Not until he jumped up and aimed his gun at my head. My feet freeze. I’m the rabbit. Josh is the hunter.
    This morning, he was just Josh. Last night, when he brushed his teeth and said goodnight to his parents, he was just Josh. Imet his parents last term, when the cooking class hosted the parents to a dinner. My parents came in the clothes they wore to work. Josh’s parents looked like they were going to church. Josh’s dad wore a suit with one of those poofy pocket handkerchiefs. His mom wore a string of pearls at her neck. They were so proud of Josh, so happy to sit at a table and have him serve them food that he’d made himself.
    When did it happen? When did he go from being just Josh to who he is now? Maybe he’s been thinking about this for a long time. Maybe last term, when he and I sat in this theater, he was thinking about it.
    Josh isn’t here. I have to tell myself that or I can’t make my feet move. He’s not here. I take another step down. He’s not here. I step down from one row of seats to the other, then another. If Josh were here, I’d already be dead. But maybe he’s waiting until he has an easy shot. Fear freezes my feet to the step.
    When Josh found us in the washroom, when he was aiming that gun at us in the stall, I didn’t feel fear, not like this. In thewashroom, it was like I resigned myself to being dead. But now, as I stalk him through the school, I’m making a choice to face him and that gun again, and it scares the crap out of me. I bolt down the steps all the way to the bottom.
    He’s not here. I feel almost giddy as I reach the concession door. He’s not here. My chest is heaving. He’s not here.
    But that means he could be anywhere.
    At the concession door, I stop again. I know Josh isn’t in the theater. I could just hide in the theater. I could hide between the rows and no one would see me. I could wait here until the cops storm the school. No one would blame me. Anyone in his right mind is holed up somewhere, finding religion. I don’t have to stop Josh. It’s not like I’m Josh’s friend. I barely know the guy. I’m just in some classes with him.
    I think about the guy who locked Zoe, Natalie and me out of the classroom. His name is Justin or Jordan or something. I know him too.
    Earlier today, in science, if I’d saidsomething, would it have made a difference? I could have tried to stop Chase from opening the hamster cage. I could have stepped between Chase and the cage, told Chase what a weenie he is for tormenting Josh. But I didn’t. Josh probably thinks I’m just as bad as Chase.
    I can hide, or I can face Josh. I gaze around the darkened theater. A few moments ago I was scared to be here, but now the theater feels like a refuge.
    I have to try. I yank open the concession door and step in.

Chapter Ten
    The door closes behind me. If it was dark in the theater, the concession is pitch-black. I fumble for a light switch. The walls feel cool, and I feel a hundred scrapes and divots, but I