on the lawn, terrified of what might happen inside. Dov’s mom, whom he’d called after his fall, banged on the door, wailing as if she’d lost him for good. The reporters had a field day, no pun intended, recording interview after interview with people who had no information but made up for it with plenty of opinions.
Several factions sprung up outside the school: a) those who wanted to gawk, who watched the ambulances brought into campus with an illicit thrill, a sense of danger enjoyed only by those not actually faced with it; b) those, mostly students who’d been locked out, who made signs—some on the backs of cardboard paper they’d carried a week ago supporting Amira, and which they’d never been able to employ or get rid of—begging whoever was around to try to meet the demands; c) those carrying signs, made at home just an hour or so ago, or right there on the field with markers hastily grabbed on their way out the door, name-calling Marisa, disparaging her as a sadist, a murdererer (sic), a terrorist.
Armed with vans equipped with satellite antennae, the reporters relayed all this to the outside world. The rain had momentarily let up, but thunder still rolled and roiled overhead, threatening to drench the crowd—those who hadn’t already been drenched by hours of standing in the worsening drizzle.
Then the police arrived. They were a menacing and ominous sight: three armored trucks rumbling in through the gates, blasting their sirens, like predators roaring just to show their dominance. As if from a clown car, dozens of riot-clad officers unloaded. The school hadn’t wanted police involved, and the police had been happy to stay out of it. But now that the rumors had been buzzing about Marisa’s threat, they felt compelled to go and get those children, particularly the children of diplomats, out.
They didn’t bring guns with them—who would want guns around children? Even the commissioner who’d ordered them onto the campus was afraid of the blowback if there were a student harmed—but that meant little to the parents gathered on the lawn, to the cameras, the students pressing their faces against the window.
Mrs. Nudel wailed harder and banged on the door, pawed at the handles, jolting them back and forth.
On the other side of the doors, Marisa absorbed the jerks as best she could, trying to breathe through her instincts to slam her body back into the doors, which would only hurt her more.
It wasn’t just Dov’s parents who arrived on campus. All over town, the call had gone out. Parents left home, left work meetings, canceled flights, booked flights. They felt impelled to be there, suddenly presented with the possibility that their children might come in harm’s way. They hadn’t really believed all the things people had said about Marisa, and as much as they hated the situation, they knew their kids were safe. Now, though, seeing her message shared by coworkers, by friends living elsewhere in the world and checking in, knowing at least one kid was hurt (it’d been lost along the chain of communication, who, exactly, it was) and she hadn’t been swayed, well, what kind of parents would they be if they didn’t come to CIS?
Marisa’s parents were there. They of course noticed the looks they were getting. The whispers. Marisa’s dad shifted, stepping closer to his wife, whose presence always calmed him. Someone nearby muttered a comment about “the protestor’s parents,” at which point Mrs. Cuevas took two steps back to look at the mutterer and say, “You’re goddamn right.”
* * *
Diego, too, was there. He hadn’t thought of lock-in night much since he’d left CIS that Friday morning, drunk off exhaustion and a pilfered pint or two of tiki drink he’d poured himself before heading home. He’d stopped attending school altogether, his talk with the DJ that night making him realize he was ready for a new chapter in life, regardless of how formally this one would end. His parents, knowing the road to a successful, happy life was not exclusively an academic one, had been okay with it. Unhappy, sure, but okay in the end. He’d find another road. This only led to further mutterings among the disapproving parents in the crowd once they got to talking.
Like with all things he didn’t care about, Diego didn’t pay much attention. He was there because he’d found he missed his sister’s presence in his life. So when his parents left the house, he came along. A few CIS