The bell rings, signifying the conclusion of another tortuous day. My locker, unfortunately next to "Mr. Popular" himself, winks at me as I walk out of the classroom towards it.
Caleb is overwhelmed by his fans, leaving me ample time to collect my baggage. I grab my stuff, waiting for him to dissipate the crowd and make his way towards me. Which he does, with a big smile on his face.
"Are you ready?" he questions.
I look away, trying to make my voice sound convincing.
"Can I go to the bathroom first?"
He nods, staring at me with his electrifying green eyes. I feel, suddenly, as if he can stare straight through me, seeing what my true intentions are. Keeping my head down, I plow past him into the ferocious crowd.
I slip through the halls, enduring shoving and pushing along the way, and pause by the bathroom. Consisting of only a tiny hall of stalls and two meager sinks, it is a sorry excuse for a bathroom, but it will suit my purposes just fine.
I walk to the end of the bathroom, right at the last stall. A small window, about the size of a half-piece of poster board, perches about four and a half feet above the floor.
My escape route. It is at about chin level on me, clearly at a height I can't climb to. Carefully, I reach forward and open it, the glass swinging outwards. Now I am ready.
Placing my backpack on the tile floor, the contents tumbling out of its confinements, I begin to stack my books and binders on top of each other.
Then, I put the tower of school supplies in the backpack, the zippered top of it open. I grasp the handles on either side, stepping onto the tiny mountain like I had planned hours earlier.
The two foot tall pile sways and almost collapses underneath me, but I catch the window ledge before it gives way to gravity. Propelling myself upwards, my butt hits the ledge, leaving my backpack swinging below me because of my hold on it.
Pulling the handles, I force it to reach my current elevation. I turn, my feet now swinging over the edge, towards the outdoors as I pack the binders and books back in my bag.
The scene before me, a plain view that includes a blue sky and a bunch of dead grass, has never been so beautiful.
For now, it symbolizes freedom. I feel elation pounding in my chest, a burden disappearing from my shoulders. Nothing I have ever experienced amounts to this emotion, this feeling of liberty.
The feeling vanishes when I look towards the ground.
I mentally smack myself in the head when I survey the thirty feet between me and the tops of the prickly bushes directly below. There is no way I am going to be able to get out from here. Well, unless I want to break an arm and a leg.
Laughing, I let my whisper escape into the cool breeze.
"Oh no, looks like my perfect plan is a total failure. How can I escaped now?"
I know I should have chosen the back door route, but the bathroom idea was too crazy to resist at the time, and Caleb wouldn't get too suspicious in the process.
But how could I have known that this bathroom is actually thirty feet above the ground, and that a patch of thorny bushes grovels below?
I hear some chattering behind me as some figures enter the bathroom. Shutting my eyes, I squeeze my backpack tightly, hoping that they won't notice my back in the window.
Unfortunately, I can't see anything from my position; facing outwards. Fear enters me, the thought that they might laugh at my form chilling me to the bone.
I shift slightly, thrusting my head into the afternoon air, leaving only my back and butt in the window. From my position, the bushes might as well be a sea of sharks.
The noise suddenly ceases, the chattering halting so suddenly that the air freezes as well. My body stiffens, and I suddenly find it hard to breathe.
There are steps, ones that grow increasingly louder to my unwilling ears. I can tell they are heading my way, sensing the foreboding hiding behind each small movement.
Finally, they stop as well, leaving only silence. Dangerous silence. Time seems to pause, even my breath suspended in anxiety.
Light and incredibly thin fingers, hundreds of them, brush across my back as the figure leans close to my ear.
The person's hot breath, full of menace, dwindles upon the back of my neck. There is another painful pause, the suspense eating me whole, and then a sound that makes my blood run cold.
"He is mine," she heard a malicious voice whispers.
A pair of two soft but strangely strong hands collide with my back, the carefully manicured nails clawing into my skin. The force pushes me forwards, and I start to fly.
Only for a second, though, before gravity takes its course.
The air rushes past me, my backpack serving as a weight to pull me down even faster. I release it, hoping crazily that somehow it will slow me, but that doesn't stop my plummet. I am toppling face down, my view of the deathly bushes absolutely electrifying.
Death looms before me once more, a familiar figure I have come to recognize in its previous two visits. I marvel at the fact that death has come for me three times so far, when the average teenager doesn't even know his face. The ground runs to meet me, and I shut my eyes tightly.
Muscled arms, strong and sinewy, wrap around my form right before the first prickly leaf mars my face.
He, for surely these perfect arms must belong to a man, cradles me, embracing my suddenly fiery hot skin.
Electricity shocks me in every place that he touches me, a strange, arousing feeling searing through my veins.