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No . . . no . . . he was never going to be okay.
With every ounce of fortitude he possessed, Stefan put a smile on his trembling lips. “Stupid prank . . . can’t . . . get free. Can you . . . help?”
Immediately, the man turned and ran back along the wall of greenery toward the front door of the school. Stefan’s back was to him but he imagined him jogging up the sidewalk, then crossing the grass toward the playground. He could hear his pounding steps as he hit the concrete and then he was in front of Stefan, breathing hard, his hands on his knees. “Holy God, man,” he said. “Whoever did this is no friend. You could freeze to death!” He stood up and dug a cell phone from a zippered pocket, his eyes drifting to the sign around Stefan’s neck.
“Who . . . rrrrr . . . ya callin’?” Stefan chattered.
“Nine-one-one. Jesus . . .”
No. No!
But it was too late, the man had connected and Stefan wildly racked his brain for a possible explanation. He couldn’t stick with the prank idea. He would have to come up with names if he did, some reason he felt it had all been done in “fun.” That wasn’t going to work. He had to come up with Plan B.
Minutes later a Laurelton Police Department Jeep, light bar flashing in the gray light of morning, wheeled to a sharp stop in front of the school. Stefan was sweating. Fine. Good. Get here and get him the hell free because soon, soon, the kids would be arriving. Hurry, he thought, his new story in place, ready to tell. Hurry.
The jogger waved the cop over just as an ambulance came screaming up the road. An ambulance . . . shit . . . he didn’t want to go to the hospital. Too much attention. Oh, God . . .
The uniform bent down and looked him in the face. He was young. Dressed in dark blue, his expression stern. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you out of here.” He pulled out a knife to cut the zip ties. “What happened?”
The jogger looked about to speak up.
“I was robbed,” Stefan cut in, a very real quaver to his voice. “He knocked me out and took my clothes and my wallet and left me here.”
The jogger said, “Man, I thought you said it was a prank.”
“A very dangerous one,” the cop said repressively as he cut through the ties. Stefan’s arms flopped down to his sides, damn near impossible to lift.
The uniform helped Stefan to his feet, as the ambulance drivers wheeled a gurney his way. Behind the ambulance Stefan saw a first car arrive at the school, its headlights washing the hedge and the ambulance and the cop car, still with its lights flashing. EMTs helped Stefan onto the gurney. Fine. Cover me up, he silently begged, pulling the placard from around his neck with rubbery arms. Better for them to think he was ill.
“Not a prank, eh?” the uniform asked, taking the placard.
“He jumped me and took everything I had,” Stefan muttered as the EMTs started pushing him toward the ambulance. A flutter of worry in his chest as he thought of his cell phone. She had it. But at least the pictures he’d taken weren’t on it any longer. He’d made prints, removed the images, and even the prints were gone now, too.
“I want what I can’t have,” the uniform read as the gurney rattled away from the playground, the words filling Stefan with dread, following after him like a bad smell.
How the hell was he going to explain the placard?
He had a momentary vision of being hauled down to the Laurelton Police Department and being grilled by September, or even worse, her twin brother.
A groan of pure misery erupted from his throat as the doors to the ambulance slammed shut behind him.
It just wasn’t fair!
