***
It could have been minutes –or hours, that I loitered on the school lot, lounging on the bench I’d fallen asleep on this morning, waiting for Sam to come for me. I know I hadn’t seen the fight (if you could call it a fight) from a very acceptable angle, I didn’t even see Sam throw the punch that had enough force behind it to knock a two-hundred pound man against a wall and shatter his arm and hand, but Principal Burnley still forced me into a dragging hour-long interview with the police chief in his outsized office…
“I told you, it was self-defense in a way. That kid was threatening me and Sam was just trying to prevent it. I guess it turned into a fight.”
Officer Harold’s constantly twitching lip curled into a frown as he took as sip of black coffee. He was the classic police officer, with a beer belly and who liked to chow down double chocolate doughnuts on the job. I was surprised he didn’t offer me one, because I could have sworn I saw a bulky dozen sized box in a bag he kept at his feet.
“Ms. Soole,” he set his coffee down and then intertwined his fingers as he rested his stubbly chin on them. “It’s not self-defense, if you’re defending someone else. We’re going to have to take Mr. Reethe to court, and Airway Prep has decided to expel him for persistent violence.”
Persistent?
“Why?” This shock is unbelievable. Technically, Sam hadn’t even started it, and schools cared about that sort of crap, right?
“The boy, who was attacked,” Harold began.
“Attacked.” I scoff, rolling my eyes and then crossing my arms. The kid would get over it. He deserved it anyway. If fact- I bet he likes the attention.
“Mr. Cotter,” Officer Harold continued without flinching, “is pressing charges.”
“But he started it! It’s His fault! He shouldn’t have made Sam angry when he threatened to screw my face up!” I lifted my arms and let them fall onto my lap with a plop of exasperation. I sigh.
“Ms. Soole, there is no evidence of Mr. Cotter’s threats, as you say. But what I say is that you’re making this all up, to save your boyfriend.” I winced at the word ‘boyfriend’, because he certainly was not that.
Only God could probably define your relationship at this point.
“There were, however, many witnesses to the scene of the crime.”
“Crime!” I scoff again. Could this guy be any more loaded with shit? He’s clearly the new guy to the police force, making accusations he picked up from low-grade melodramas.
“Sorry, reflex reaction.” He mumbled.
Sure.
“Sure.”
“I know this is all a lot to take in, but please, believe me, that young man is no good for someone like you.”
“What do you mean someone like me?” I seethe. I throw daggers with my eyes and imagine how easy it would be to strangle him at this point.
He’s around two hundred and fifty pounds and he’s a man of the law, you have no chance.
I could do it in ten seconds flat.
He’s got a gun.
I huff and glare at my shoes.
Point for Officer Harold.
“Excuse me for sounding rude, it’s just that your Principal told me that you’re a straight-A student and-”
“Look,” I say, and set my hand on the wooden desk separating us. “I’m not here to talk about my love life. I’m here so I can answer the questions you’re obligated to put into a report. If you want to keep railing me over what happened earlier today, then talk to my lawyer, because I’m done.”
And with that, he sent me away with a card of all the information on the “best counselor” he knew. I threw it away in the nearest trash can as I exited the interrogation room –Mr. Larson’s classroom, and I hoped he noticed.
I moan at the memory. It’s so cold outside. The least Sam could do was dodge the police so he could pick me up. Snow is beginning its long journey to the earth to torture me. Again. Only wait five more minutes, I keep telling myself. But I knew I would stay out all night in the frosty air if he asked me to. The minutes dragged on…
They’re getting closer.” Sam whispers in my ear. “You know we’ll have to run away?” He’s holding my hand.
“I know.” I reply, and then squeeze his hand back.
“There’s a place in New York… I have some acquaintances that will help us. They will never find us, Eneile. I promise.”
“New York.” I murmur, disbelieving. How had things come to this? It seemed only days ago I had been an average girl, struggling to fit in.
“Yes.” Sam paused, and then picked his words back up again, with more enthusiasm. “I know you don’t want to- but it’s dangerous. I won’t leave you here to face them alone.” I stood up on my toes so I could kiss him chastely on his lips. I pronounced my words carefully; ready to cut them out of my mouth as soon as I felt uncertain.
“Take me there.”
I open my eyes. Such eerie, strange dreams, haunting my thoughts. Sitting up, I scour my eyelids and wrench my sweatshirt closer to my body, trying to convince warmth to come back to my skin. I quickly glance at the clock outside of the school –which I was doing a lot of these days- and noticed I’d only been sleeping for about twenty minutes.
Sam still isn’t here. He’s not coming for you.
Wait- why would he be here? I’m at Airway Prep. A public place -the police would suspect this. I’m sure they have a few cameras set up just for the slim chance that he would give up and turn himself in at the scene of the ''crime''.
Getting up from the cold old bench, I shook off some snow flakes and left the school at a sauntering pace. I pause at the corner to wait for the red light. Eventually, the cars slow to a stop and I jog over the crosswalk, head down, and hood up.
“Hey, Eneile, baby!”
I flinch in the middle of the street and turn the see who hollered at me. It’s the jock. Mr. Cotter, as Officer Harold would say. The hell?
How is he even driving with a broken arm?
“What the hell do you want?” I call out to him. It’s so hard to see through the dark tint of his midnight windows that are only slightly rolled down so I can hear his filthy voice.
I hear a girlish fit of giggles coming from inside the car’s sleek leather interior. It sounds like Melanie Goodfeather. I squeeze my eyes to put them into better focus and notice that Melanie’s holding the steering wheel and Cotter’s on the passenger side, cradling his broken arm and hand that’s already been wrapped, plastered, and signed with at least thirty different names.
“Your head on a platter.” She pushes on the gas hard and her glossy black car bursts forward. There are honks coming from every direction, either urging her to stop or urging her on. Melanie’s light is green and I’m still in the middle of the crosswalk, deer in the headlights.
Get out of the road!
My feet are moving before my mind is, and I watch more then tell my legs to start pumping toward the safety of the sidewalk, in the cover of trees just a few yards away. But I’m not fast enough- from the time, speed of the car, and the bad angle I’m at, there’s no way I’d even make it to the curb without getting chipped by the shell of the Mercedes. I feel a million eyes on my back, but for some reason, one of them doesn’t belong here. One of them feels… different.
This is a very, very bad idea.
My subconscious says, reading my thoughts.
Shut up, I know what I’m doing. I bend my legs and stare down the car. It’s close now-
One, two-
I jump. I uncoil my legs and then I’m midair. The wind whistles in my ears so loud it’s deafening. Melanie and Cotter’s faces just ooze shock as I land on their black hood. Momentum is taking over now and I’m rolling over the front window and on top of the car. Melanie finally pumps the brake and skids against the asphalt, acrid burning-tire smell igniting into the air and boiling my nostrils. I seize the car and dig my fingers into the top, denting the metal, leaving imprints centimeters deep. My throat is gravelly as I try to cry out in both fear and elation. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins and I feel so alive. The honks are even more frequent and frantic as the people, safe in their vehicles, realize I might truly be hurt.
What? You thought they weren’t really going to run her down?
My breath is coming in pants as I rise to my feet and lift myself up off the car and back into the street. Surprisingly, the jump that should’ve been fatal left me with only an ache in my left hip and arm. I tap on the glass of Melanie’s window and she shrieks and recoils away from the window. I give her a look that could burn hell until she reluctantly rolls down her window a few inches.
“Don’t do that again.” I turn on my heel and finish making my way through the crosswalk and back onto the safety of the nice, gray cement with grass on the sides and trees to the left. I feel everyone’s eyes on my back and pick up my pace, evolving into a sprint toward the comfort of the changed orange and dirt color of the leaves. I’m filled with a woodsy sort of smell as the cars and the road disappear behind me and now there’s nothing to do but think and watch my feet pit pat against the pavement.
That was foolish and reckless.
I know.
You could’ve died.
I know that, too.
I’m glad you didn’t. Not even a scratch. But-
I’m going to pay for this later.
I still feel eyes on me, even without the cars nearby. My head does a lot of double-takes as I march through the trees. Abruptly, my phone buzzes from the deep recesses of my backpack.
“Gah!” I jump. I release the straps around my shoulders and turn the pack around face front. I dig through the biggest pocket and find the cellular peeking under an old bag of Chex Mix, hiding from me. I check the screen.
Unknown Number
I know what you did. Meet me one mile north of your current location.
Is it wrong to know by a glance that it’s Sam? I huff and type back.
Eneile
I’m not in the mood to walk that far, Samuel.
I quickly add his number into my contacts. You never know if you’ll need it later.
You just like to see his name pop up on the screen.
I do not. It’s just that you never know if I’ll need to talk to him again.
Sam
I won’t ask you again. You said you wanted answers. I’m waiting for you.
Eneile
On my way.
I head north of my current location, exchanging the gray sidewalk for the soft pad of earth. I’m not even going to begin to fathom how he knows where I am right now. “Used to it” would be a good term to describe my reaction. Pounding through the slush from the morning’s snow and the present rain, I travel further through the trees.
The proper term is a “wood.”
So more than just a few trees, then, huh?
Bingo.
The wood is dark, thick, and deep. I’m in the middle of it. A knurled branch reaches out and snatches at my face, leaving a hotwire line across my cheekbone.
“Dammit!” I wipe my cheek and my fingers come back warm and red. I reach out and break the cursed branch from its place with my bloody hand and pitch it to the dirt with a mighty thud.
Watch where you’re going.
My subconscious chuckles and stares at the deserted stick in the dirt. He covers his mouth with his black sleeve and laughs and laughs.
I shake my head wildly and press palms to my temples, adding pressure to rid of his mocking nature. I’m so tired of this. I swipe my phone from the front pocket of my jeans.
Eneile
I’m lost.
Sam
I figured you would be.
Damn boy. He’s left me here to die. My eyes scan the tree line for any sign of movement. For a moment I thought a saw a taste of his tanned leather jacket, but it could’ve been my mind racing a thousand miles a second.
Eneile
You’re not in the woods.
Sam
I’m here.
Eneile
Liar.
I click send. I wait a few minutes for a reply but all I get is an empty screen. I wipe my cheek with my hand again. The bleeding has stopped but I already feel an edgy scab surfacing from underneath the skin. A nearby tree about four feet wide offers a good dead weight and I lean against it, catching my breath. I bend over to tie my shoelace and scrape a glob of grubby mud from the tip of my right shoe, leaving a russet streak the size of Kentucky. I decide to call Sam. He answers on the last ring.
“Wait enough rings, Sam?” I hiss impatiently. “Is this all just a big fat joke to you? I’m lost and cold and I can’t find you. If you don’t tell me where to go in about two seconds-”
“Jeez, give me time to breathe, Eneile.” Sam dramatically heaves in a huge breath and huffs it back into the receiver, filling my ears with a warm puff sound. I feel my face twist into a scowl even though I know no one can see it.
“Are you done with your theatrics, now?”
“Barely.” I can sense his cocky smile through the phone.
“Speak up, or I’m hanging up.”
Don’t be a bitch!
“I mean,” I continue, “Um, please tell me where you are?”
“Behind you.”
It takes me a minute to poster that Sam hung up on me and the voice came from behind. I whirl around and come face-to-face with Sam, tanned leather jacket, jeans, cocky smile and all.
“Holy shi-”
“Ha-ha!” Sam points a finger at me and doubles over, laughing his ass off.
Point for Sam.
End of Chapter Four.
point for sam LOve them keep it uyp i enjoy reading them
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