Time Bomb: Chapters 7–25

The main office door, located in the middle of the two-story-tall atrium under the purple-and-yellow painted signs that said MIGHTY TROJANS, was closed.

Some were sitting on the floor in the foyer, and he could see a bunch more camping out past the double doors that officially led to the rest of the school.

“I’m sorry,” Rashid automatically said as he pulled the bag tightly to his body and looked up at Diana Sanford. Only she wasn’t looking at him but was frowning at the girls sauntering down the middle of the hall.

He remembered the little slights and the snide looks, as well as the insults some of the biggest jerks in the school spat at him.

It told him to celebrate Allah while waiting and that patience is what brought strength and prosperity.

So that nothing around her existed but the music and the need to create a resonant and pure sound.

He’d taken his frog off the tray and made it dance while Mr. Rizzo was passing out the rest of the specimens.

I go to a lot of football games and have become quite the connoisseur of marching bands and their uniforms. Ours is the worst of the lot.

Thankfully, we’re in the locker room when they play at halftime, so we’re spared what they’re trying to pass off as music.

It’s pretty clear no one in that band practices the way you do. Talent means nothing unless you take the time to hone it.

Open instrument cases sat on chairs and were strewn across the floor, along with dozens of backpacks.

The kid didn’t think he had to put in the work to reap success.

He was glad that Jimmy thought he’d ferreted out the reason Frankie was late.

Frankie shook his head and ignored the way everything inside him churned as he made his way down the hall that led to the main section of the school.

If Frankie had taught him anything, it was to feign confidence, even if you didn’t feel it.

Tad had believed the all-American straight-boy persona.

There was resignation, not surprise, on his face as he said, “It’s your life, and you have to be who you are.”

But Tad, as their mother started gushing about loving him no matter what and wanting him to give everyone time to adjust to it and to really be sure how he feels before saying anything to anyone about it, heard his brother quietly ask, “Do you really want to single yourself out even more?”

Just as he didn’t have a choice that their father was white and their mother was black and that because he was both, he often felt he wasn’t allowed to be either one. Too dark for anyone to ever consider him white, and how many times did he say something to his black friends, only to hear someone quip, “Yeah, but it’s different for you.”

And when you ask students to police other students, you give them license to use learned biases against one another.

No one would be able to hear her screams; still she yelled as she fumbled to find the pocket where she’d put her phone.

He wasn’t going to go down in this building while cowering under a science table.

She jolted to a stop and struggled to keep her hold.

Everything around her was moving, and now there was enough light that she could see the large metal filing cabinet looming above her head.

Bile burned the back of his throat.

Rashid rolled onto his back and pulled his legs and feet through the opening just as the slab of debris slammed back down.

Where there should have been a wall, he saw hints of sky and lots of black, billowing smoke.

He flashed a smile as he knelt down next to her. Then the smiled faltered.

Suddenly, a loud but mostly garbled voice floated through the receiver.

It was in shambles, but he’d seen worse this summer on the sightseeing trips his cousins had taken him on.