She walks on through the crowd.

On through the hot air.

On through the booming of her fear.

She follows, head down, one by one.

Follows her eyes on the pavement.

Follows the hue of her skin.

She grips her books in her arms.

Grips her terror in her chest.

Grips the cries of the crowd in her head.

She stops at the stairs.

Stops at the entrance.

Stops at the police.

They follow her in.

Escort her to the classroom.

Protect her from the blinding white on the outside.