Stuck in the Stairwell

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Kylar dropped his hands from his head. "Okay Peyton, try the door again."

Peyton obeyed. The handle turned but the door stayed put.

"Didn't work," Peyton said dejectedly. Raking a hand through his dirty blonde hair, he slid down the door to the floor, groaning, "Oooh, we're never getting out of here."

"Wait, I can do this. Just lemme try again." Kylar held the door handle and sealed his eyelids over his sky blue eyes.

"You've been saying that for the past hour," Marcy commented as she raced up the two flights of stairs, her curly blonde hair billowing behind her. Getting an idea, she backtracked one flight down and speculated the floor-to-ceiling windows. "Maybe we could find something heavy and throw it at these."

"Marcy, could you sit still?" Jessamene shouted from her fetal position under the stairs. Letting her dark brown hair fall over her face, Jessamene put her head on her knees. "The walls are complaining." She added.

Kylar tried the door again. This time the door handle didn't even turn, causing him to let his head fall against the door a few times.

Marcy sped down to Jessamene and lowered herself to the ground to meet the stressed girl's chocolate brown eyes with her electric blue ones. "This is your fault, Jessamene," Marcy whispered fiercely. "If you hadn't suggested that we practice our drama skit in the stairwell, we wouldn't be stuck in here."

"Marcy, you idiot. I only agreed to your suggestion." Jessamene snapped.

"I was being sarcastic," Marcy enunciated. "How was I supposed to know Miss Winters would say 'yes?'"

"How was I to know the door would lock behind us?"

"It doesn't matter who's fault this is," Kylar, who now had a growing red patch of skin under his shaggy auburn hair, reminded them. "We just need a solution."

"How's that lock coming, Kylar?" Peyton asked faithlessly.

Kylar sighed deeply and lightly tapped the door with his head once more. "I can't do it; the lock's too complicated."

Marcy sat herself up against the wall and pulled her knees to her chest. "So, the hairpins didn't work. Telekinesis didn't work." She whimpered, "What are we gonna do?"

Peyton looked up at the ceiling in conformity. "We're going to die in here. On a Friday of all days."

The other three paled at his short soliloquy.

"You didn't really see that, right? You're-you're just joking... right?" Jessamene stammered as she uncurled herself from her position.

Peyton's dark blue eyes sparkled as his serious frown flipped into a mischievous grin. "Yeah, I'm just messing with you."

Marcy folded her script and threw it at the boy. "Dude, you don't say stuff like that when you're a Foreseer." She stood. "Now you've got me all antsy. I'm gonna run a little."

Jessamene put her hands to her ears, knowing the walls, floor, and stairs were warming up to issue Marcy-related complaints to Jessamene's mind. "I hope you hit a wall, Marcy," Jessamene told the speedster just before she zipped off.

Marcy zipped up and zipped down at growing speeds.

"She probably is going to hit a wall if she doesn't slow down," Kylar observed.

"Yeah, someone should do something about that," Peyton said. Kylar and Jessamene gave him a look like, seriously?

Just then, there was a thump, a high-pitched "Ow," then sound of something hitting the ground.

Jessamene removed her hands from her ears and Kylar lifted his head to share a worried look between her and Peyton. "Marcy?" he tried. "You okay up there?"

After a second of silence, Peyton bolted up the steps with Jessamene then Kylar on his tail. At the top lay a motionless Marcy near the base of the door with nose blood all over her face.

"Woah," Jessamene exclaimed, backing away. "No. I do not do blood!"

Peyton knelt beside the unconscious girl and shook her, yelling, "Marcy. Marcy!"

"Dude, I don't think she can hear you."

"Yeah, well I know that now!"

"Guys, I'm gonna hurl," Jessamene warned, leaning against the banister overlooking the long drop to the first floor.

"Didn't you see this coming, O great Foreseer?" Kylar accused as Peyton bit the fear into his nails.

"Kylar, I said what I said to save Marcy from something worse," Peyton explained. "For example, she could've run into the railing and flipped over the side like Jessamene's about to do."

"Like what Jessamene's about to do?" Kylar questioned, turning around. Sure enough, Jessamene was hanging for dear life over the stair railing.

"Jessamene!" The boys rushed over, grabbing her arms to haul her up.

"Jessamene, why didn't you say anything?" Peyton scolded.

"Just pull me up, Peyton!"

"Why are your arms so slippery?" Kylar wondered.

"You never can go wrong with coaco butter lotion," Jessamene giggled.

"Yeah, ya can; you're slipping!

Peyton looked away from the ceiling, an indication of the end of a future vision. "We're gonna have to let her go."

"What?!" The two exclaimed in disbelief.

"Sorry." Peyton let go of Jessamene and without his help, she slipped from Kylar's fingers, screaming.

"No!" Kylar reached out his hands to her. Jessamene stopped just before she made contact with the ground. She put her hands and knees to the floor, vowing to someday murder Peyton. She crawled beneath the stairs and gasped.

"Whadja find, Jessamene?" Kylar, breathing hard, wanted to know.

Beaming and holding up a fire extinguisher, Jessamene answered, "Our ticket outta here."

***

The window took them outside, only a story above the ground. There was a ladder, but that can get hectic when you have a knocked-out girl on your hands.

Soon enough, Marcy got cared for at the nearest hospital and the four were sent home to retell their tale.

Back at the school, a few minutes after they left, a janitor unlocked and walked into the quartet's temporary prison. Looking around, he wondered just what four sets of scripts and blood were doing in the stairwell.

Date Published: June 11, 2015

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