The closer we got to Beacon Hills High, the heavier the traffic became. Police cars surrounded the front entrance. Yellow tape blocked off part of the parking lot. Several reporters stood outside the gates, speaking into cameras while officers moved in and out of the damaged building.
Mike slowed the Jeep. “They weren’t kidding.”
I stared through the windshield. The front entrance was still covered in shattered glass. A section of the hallway had been sealed off, and workers were already replacing broken windows. Students gathered in small groups, whispering among themselves.
“I heard it was an explosion.”
“No, someone said it was an earthquake.”
“My brother thinks a gas pipe burst.”
Rumors were spreading faster than the truth ever could. Mike parked the Jeep. “I guess Ryan was right
