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“Yeah,” a male voice says. “I’ll sweep down here and meet you upstairs.”
“Shit!” I whisper. I stuff the rest of my clothes in the bag and jump behind a row of lockers just as the door opens.
Fuck. Okay, my car’s not in the school parking lot, I closed the window on the way in, I picked up all my shit, and … My eyes fall on the steam from my shower still floating around the ceiling.
Son of a bitch.
I peer around the corner, seeing the security guard flash his light into the shower. My fucking heart pounds in my chest, and I shoot a glance to the window, knowing there’s no way I’m getting out that way. Darting my eyes to him once again, I see him check out the steam hovering high and then immediately shoot his light around, looking for me. He knows someone’s here.
I bolt. Twisting on my heel, I dart down the row of lockers and swing open the door, a huge creak filling the quiet.
“Hey!” he shouts. And then I hear him getting on his radio, alerting the other one.
I bypass the nearest stairwell and race for the next one, skipping steps as I charge up to the main level, carrying my bag. I enter the hallway and glance in both directions, taking off left and jogging down the next hallway, keeping my eyes and ears peeled.
I pass exits chained shut, and I keep running, searching for a way out.
But then I pass the cafeteria and see something written on the windows looking in. I slow down, glancing around me to make sure the guards aren’t coming.
I read the message.
I see you, like pictures in a frame,
But I can’t touch, and I can’t be the same.
-Punk
I smile to myself. Looks like the little punk struck again.
The message is spray-painted in dark blue in two lines across all four of the large windows. Is he getting in the same way I have been? And even better, how is he getting out through the chains and without setting off the alarms?
I look around, trying to figure out which window I should try to slip out of, but then I hear another door swing open, and I take off. I run down the hallway from one door to another, twisting knobs to check for open classrooms.
The Physics lab Ryen and I were in two days ago opens, and I dart inside just as I see the glow of a flashlight bobbing up and down the floor from the other hallway.
Closing the door gently, I scan the room, seeing the supply closet. Heading over, I open it and dart inside.
I hear a small gasp.
From right behind me.
Every hair on my arms stand on end, and I turn around, my mouth suddenly dry.
I’m not alone in here.
Reaching up, I grab the chain for the light, but a soft hand takes mine and pulls it down.
“No,” a female voice whispers. “They’ll see the light.”
Ryen?
I blink, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but she pulls me back, leading me around the partition of shelves to the other side, by the window. Moonlight streams through, and I see she’s wearing some black shorts and her rash guard. She must’ve been teaching lessons tonight. Her hair hangs loose and kinky from air drying, and she clutches the loop of a black backpack in her hand.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her.
She stands close, her breathing shaky and nervous. “Nothing.”
“Ryen—”
