Finally, I spotted a security guard patrolling the grounds.
I rushed over, grabbed his arm, and blurted out:
“Sir, where did the kids and teachers go?
My son is sick—I got a call from the teacher!”
The guard, seeing how frantic I was, pointed me toward the gymnasium.
I thanked him and ran.
But when I reached the sports area, the gate was locked.
Two unfamiliar men stood guard, yellow caution tape strung up behind them.
“Sorry, ma’am. There’s a private closed training session going on. No one’s allowed inside.”
“Private training? I’m a parent! My son is in there! He has a heart condition—let me in or he could die!”
My voice was shaking as I tried to push past them.
One man shoved me back.
“Rules are rules. If you keep this up, don’t blame us for getting rough.”
A surge of fury overrode my fear.
I spotted a lower section of the fence nearby, scrambled up using some boxes as a foothold, and leapt over as the men shouted behind me.
I sprinted toward the sports field.
The closer I got, the louder the noise—cheering, barking, and faint sobs.
At the entrance to the field, I ran straight into Ms. Collins, the class supervisor.
Her face flickered with panic before she plastered on a fake smile.