It was luck that she ducked into the music department - the old building at the far end of the school field where kids her age rarely went because it wasn't a place where most kids could run around.

She feels the ominous cr-cr-crack of thunder reverberating in her bones as she makes her way up the steps, her body heavy because her uniform is drenched all the way down to her skirt. The main corridor is narrow and lined with plaques and photographs. But there are stairs that lead up into the concert hall's balcony area.

She'll be safe up there. She hopes she'll be safe up there. Maybe it won't find her here--

--and she'll do her best not to throw up because she can't get the image of Miss Alvarez speared through by snake-like bone tentacles out of her head.