The Lost Campers

Encounters

It was raining heavily, the kind of downpour that blurred the world into streaks of gray. The school building loomed in the distance, its tall windows fogged from the warmth inside, contrasting against the cold rain pelting down. Puddles splashed beneath the tires as the sound of a bicycle echoed through the air, the chain clicking as someone pedaled quickly, focused on reaching her destination. Zara could feel the chill of the rain seeping into her clothes, but she pushed on, eyes narrowing as she spotted the school gates.

The gate of the high school was nearly shut, the guard already turning away, but Zara slipped inside just in time, skidding to a stop on the wet pavement and breathing heavily. She glanced back, relieved to see the gate close behind her.

In the shelter of the entryway, she parked her bicycle and slung her bag over one shoulder, shaking off the raindrops clinging to her hair and clothes. Her reflection in the glass doors showed damp curls sticking to her forehead and droplets glistening on her jacket. With a quick swipe to brush them away, she stepped inside, her sneakers squeaking against the polished floor.

Zara Hayes, a well-known student for her outstanding academic performance and musical talent, walked down the bustling hallway toward her locker. The air inside the school felt warm and smelled faintly of paper and floor polish, comforting in its familiarity. Students filled the corridors, chatting in groups or hurriedly gathering their supplies, their voices creating a soft hum that echoed through the space. Near her locker, she spotted her friend Tressa Whitfield, waiting with her arms crossed, leaning casually against the metal door.

Tressa Whitfield, renowned for her boxing skills, had been a champion for five consecutive years. Even in the crowded hall, she stood out with her confident stance and steely gaze.

"You're late on the first day," Tressa said, raising an eyebrow.

Zara rolled her eyes. "I got in before the gates closed, so this doesn't count," she replied, unlocking her locker and rummaging for her books.

Tressa let out a faint smirk, then pushed off the locker to join her. Together, they headed down the hall, weaving through clusters of students, the buzz of morning energy filling the air. They exchanged a few more words about their schedules and the new teachers, but both of them paused as they heard a commotion coming from the emergency staircase-a tense, muffled exchange.

"You really think you can get away?"

They stopped, glancing at each other, before cautiously moving toward the staircase. The dim light and cold concrete walls made the space feel separate from the rest of the school's bright hallways.

"Tell your father to give us what we need, or-"

"Or what?" Tressa cut in sharply, stepping forward with her eyes fixed on the group, her expression calm but intense.

One of the seniors, clearly caught off guard, recovered with a sneer. "Don't get involved, kids. What can you even do? Scream for help?" He laughed, glancing at his friends, who joined in with strained chuckles.

"Amusing, but you really don't want to mess with her, do you?" Zara said coolly, folding her arms with a sly smirk. "I'll be the one laughing in your faces soon enough."

The seniors exchanged uncertain glances, visibly rattled by the girls' confidence. "Yeah, whatever. We'll leave. But don't think you can escape," one of them muttered, directing the threat toward a boy sitting on the stairs, hunched over with his head down. His long hair obscured his face, casting a shadow that hid his expression as he stared at the floor.

As the seniors backed away, Tressa shot them an intimidating glare, her stance unyielding until they were out of sight. Zara approached the boy cautiously, her voice gentle. "Hey, are you okay?"