I saw Tim running around the corner, his father’s Glock in hand, the one he showed me the one and only time I went to his house for his birthday and I just stood there. I knew he was looking for Madison because Tim asked her to our end-of-class dance last week in front of a bunch of people and she said there was no fucking way I’d go out with you if you were the last boy on earth loud enough for her to get three days of detention (punishment doesn’t stop just because the school year is ending). I tried yelling he has a gun but I stood there, knowing what was going to happen: it’s not your life he wants, my brain said. After I saw Tim turn at the end of the hall, I hid in the janitor’s closet, crying after the first shot came, then the second, and then nothing. I didn’t leave the janitor’s closet until someone found me, the school resource officer, the one who’s too fat to do anything except keep our school not very safe. Steve, he said, surprised that the star lacrosse player was crying. Is…, I tried asking if everyone was fine and it came out as snot and more crying. I almost thought to ask if Madison was OK but then that would let the school resource officer know that I knew what Tim was doing and then I didn’t stop him when I could off. The school resource officer pulled down one of those giant rolls of toilet paper used in the school bathrooms and handed it to me. Get yourself cleaned up and then come out when you’re ready. No one needs to see you like this. I unrolled some of the thin toilet paper and blew my nose and pocketed the wad. I did it again and again, the roll never getting smaller. I waited 15 more minutes before coming back out. The hallway was empty. When I was asked where I was, I said I hid in the janitor’s closet when I heard the first shot; no one questioned me. I saw Madison across the parking lot, sitting on the back of the ambulance, soaked in Matt’s blood. You need to stay where you are, the school resource officer said. But I’m her boyfriend, I said. I don’t think it’s a good idea to see her right now, he said. I wondered whether he knew I knew what Tim was going to do when I saw him run down the hallway. I wondered whether he knew how I froze when Tim ran past, his father’s Glock in hand, the one he showed me the one and only time I went to his house for his birthday and I wondered whether I should have gone to more of his birthdays, talked to him with my mouth more than my hands, talked him out of asking Madison out since we were together, since no one deserves to have their feelings publicly executed.