In the event of a school shooter, I was told to run and hide in the corner away from any windows and lock any entrances. If I was in the restroom, I was out of luck. If I was in a hallway, I had to hope that a teacher would open the door to let me in and hide with them.

When I experienced a gun incident, all of the rules went out the window, and the fear of being shot crept inside my mind.

It was just like any other Friday in 2016. I was getting ready to attend one of the frequent dances at Greiner Middle School in Dallas. I got ready at my friend Kat’s house who lived just a couple of blocks away from the school and we walked over to the school together. The sheer proximity to the school is horrifying to think about because of what a shooter could have done with that information.

The dance was, of course, in the gymnasium, and this dance had a larger amount of people than usual. Kids flooded the court- yard and other nooks of the school. After I had enough of the masses, I went outside with some friends to the parking lot in the back of the school, waiting for the dance to finish.

Looking back, I could see kids running to- ward the parking lot. I was so confused that I just stood there and watched. I didn’t hear any gunshots or screams. A couple of minutes later, two police cars parked in the circle drive and went inside the gymnasium.

“OMG, a kid brought a gun,” my friend Kat gasped, looking at her phone. When I looked back at the flashing police lights, I saw who had done it and it was not surprising to me. Then I started toward the crowd and called my mom to come pick me up.