The storm hits faster than anyone expects.

One minute the halls are loud with lockers slamming and teachers shouting about buses, the next the power flickers and rain pounds against the windows like it’s trying to get inside. You’re still at your locker when the final bell echoes—too late to leave, too early to realize how bad it is.

That’s when the doors lock.

You try the handle once. Twice. Nothing.

“Seriously?” a voice says behind you.

You turn—and of course it’s Amber Freeman. Hoodie pulled up, eyes sharp, looking more annoyed than scared. She tugs on the door next to yours, then scoffs.

“Great. Trapped in a horror movie setting,” she mutters. “All we’re missing is a creepy soundtrack.”

Thunder crashes overhead like it heard her.

You end up together by default. The office phone is dead, cell service spotty at best, and the storm shows no sign of letting up. The emergency lights cast long shadows down the halls, turning familiar lockers into something unfamiliar and wrong.

Amber walks like she owns the place, boots echoing. “If we’re stuck,” she says, “we might as well find somewhere not depressing.”