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He started again, then stopped. The footsteps stopped a few seconds later.
He wasn’t alone.
It was too dark for Myron to see who was following him, but he realized that meant that the person couldn’t see him either. Whoever was coming after him had to have been following along the pipe, too.
So Myron left the safety of the pipe and headed blindly across the basement.
The footsteps continued behind him.
He stopped.
The footsteps stopped, too.
He bent down, then untied and took off his right sneaker. He threw it toward the other side of the basement. He heard it hit on the floor, then the footsteps started after it.
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Very quietly, he took off his other sneaker and threw it in the same direction.
He never heard his shoe hit the ground.
The footsteps started after him again.
He started to run, but slipped in his socked feet on a spot of slime. His hands hit loud and hard as he fell on the cold floor.
The footsteps came hurriedly toward him.
He held his breath and tried to be as quiet as possible.
A light turned on above his head.
He screamed.
“I believe this is yours,” said a bald man. He was holding Myron’s left sneaker.
Next to him were two men with black mustaches. One of the men held a black attaché case.
Myron shook his head. “That’s not my shoe,” he said. “I never saw it before.”
The bald man glanced at Myron’s shoeless feet.
“What’s your name?” asked the man with the attaché case.
“Myron,” said Myron. He regretted it as soon as he had said it. He wished he had made up a fake name.
The man opened his attaché case and took out a notebook. “Myron,” he repeated, as he thumbed through the notebook. “You’re supposed to be in Mrs. Jewls’s class, at the desk next to the window, in front of Sharie.”
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“What are you doing out of your cage—I mean, seat?” asked the other man with a mustache.
“I just wanted to be free,” chirped Myron. “Please don’t hurt me. If you let me go back to Mrs. Jewls’s room, I’ll never come down here again.”
“Well, do you want to be free, or do you want to be safe?” asked the bald man.
