The Fall of Magnificence Academy

a disastrous breakout

Later that night, I went over my plan in my head. I would sneak out of my dorm at midnight. From there, I'd go down the hall and down the stairs that led into the main room. The exit into the schoolyard was just down the main corridor, and I'd be long gone in the morning.
I had a small bag full of my few worldly belongings, such as my pocketknife, my old green duck plushie, a First Aid kit, and a Polaroid photo of my mother. Her name is Zephyrine Isabelle Peppercorn. Is, or was, I don't know. She went missing when I was almost four. In the picture, she was mid laugh, trying to push the camera away. Her long red hair was in a thick braid, a purple windflower tucked behind her ear.
I missed her more than anything. I barely remembered her, only bits and pieces. She was a florist, so she loved plants and flowers. I remembered all the potted plants around the house, and how I had loved the blue hyacinths in the garden when I was young.
I tried to take my mind off of my mum and looked at the time. It was almost twelve, and I was restless, so I decided to leave. Little did I know, this would be a terrible idea.
I quietly opened my door and closed it just as quietly. I stepped out and slowly tip-toed my way down the hall with all the dormrooms. I came to the large, gaudy staircase that led into the main room, but I tripped over something made of cloth. I caught myself, but not without hissing a million and six startled curses first.
"What the h*ll?" I asked intelligently. I picked it up, and it was a gray blazer. "Hey, that's mine. I—Oh my God," a voice in the darkness whispered. It sounded familiar. The person came into my line of sight, and it was Peter, from earlier that day. "For the love of all that is holy," replied I, sounding ever so smart. "Peter." He smiled bashfully. "That's me."
"What on earth are you doing here?" I asked. "I was outside," Peter said. "But the real question is: what on earth are you doing here?" I scowled and tossed his jacket back to him, with no intention of telling him what I intended to do. He caught it, but he dropped a book. It fell down the stairs and I picked it up.
It was not a regular book, but a sketchbook. I flipped through it. Inside were pencil and pen drawings of the trees outside, people I'd seen around school, the playground in the schoolyard, and things like markers, paperweights, and other things of that nature.
"My, my. I must say these are quite impressive," I told Peter. I walked up the stairs again to stand in front of him. I handed it back to him. He laughed, and I sensed a little embarrassment. He pulled on his jacket and took his book back. "Thanks. But seriously, what are you doing?"
"I don't see how that's any of your business," I answered, raising an eyebrow. "Are you meeting someone?" Peter asked. I stayed silent. "Um, what about going somewhere? Like the library, or something?" I gave him an unimpressed look. "Holy sh*t, you're sneaking out, aren't you?" I tried to play it off, but I knew I had faltered. "Aha! You are!" He exclaimed. "Shut up, you idiot!" I snarled. "Someone will hear you."
Peter looked around, like he was thinking hard about something. "I wanna come with you." I almost laughed, but then I realized he was serious. "No." He frowned. "Why not?" I crossed my arms. "I don't even know you. You could call someone, sell me out."
"I don't have a phone."
"You might try and kill me."
"Come on, look at me."
"Well what about—"
"Now you're just giving me ideas, Eliza."
I glared at Peter. He smiled, like he was holding back a laugh. "You're running out of reasons to tell me no, aren't you?" I thought. If I didn't let him come, he'd most definitely tell someone that I had left. Normally, the school wouldn't care about losing a child, but a dramatic enough storytelling could make a panic out of anything.
"Fine," I said sourly. "Let's go." Peter laughed as we rushed down the stairs. I pushed open the doors. I heard a strange clicking sound. "A silent alarm," I whispered. "Run." We sprinted into the schoolyard and tried to jump the fence. I'd made it over, but Peter was lagging behind. I heard a metallic tearing noise and I heard him cry out.
   "Gah, d*mn it!" Peter said, holding his wrist. He fell halfway over the fence, but he made it down. "C'mon, you'll be fine. It's not that bad." His blood fell on the grass as we ran. I heard people yelling and cursing behind us, but we'd already made it into the woods by then.