Chapter One
The wooden cabinet door felt hard against my back. The tile floor was cold. We were packed tight in the corner of our dark classroom. Some of my classmates were whispering in small groups. I had my hands over my face, cold. Cold hands, cold tile, the air was cold too. Gideon shivered beside me. Just ten minutes ago we were sitting side by side, pretending to learn. The overhead came on with the vice-principal simply saying:
"Lock down."
Maybe it was the urgency in his voice that made us move so fast. But there was something else. Sadness? Surprise? Or maybe it was fear. Our vice-principal, teacher, role model to some, was scared. That prospect, the very idea, was what made us afraid. A loud noise is what snapped me back to the present. I sat perfectly still and listened. Listened to my classmates silence to the sound. Footsteps. They seemed to be going in the other direction.
Bang! The door was pulled from the outside, the wood slamming against the metal doorframe, a tug on the handle made the metallic sound of metal against metal. I held my breath. Silence, then the echo of retreating footsteps. Once we had been given the 'all clear' sign we got up and walked through the dark to our seats. Someone flipped on the lights and I immediately saw a big blue spot. Our blue-faced teacher quieted us down as an announcement came on. "Hello students, thank you for acting appropriately in tis emergency that faced us today . . ." Blah. Blah. Blah. But then a word rang in my ear. Emergency. Wait. ". . . Was not a drill."
Chapter Two
Panic set in all around me. Panicked faces, panicked whispers, panicked breathing. Though I was unusually calm, even our teacher, dialing an unknown set of numbers into her phone with quick jabs, seemed shocked. I sat observing the semi-chaos thinking to myself that the principle saying 'Don't panic,' or 'Stay calm,' wouldn't change our course of reaction. He might have said that. I don't know. I wasn't paying attention. It was probably highly unlikely that anyone or anything was hurt or taken, I thought, so I didn't worry. Do you ever imagine what would happen under extreme circumstances? I do so I was prepared for this. Kind of.
The teacher said it was ok and we can that we could still continue school for the day, (Darn), so I went upstairs after the bell rang. When I stopped at my locker for my math book I noticed there was a small piece of paper stuck in the vent. It was very small with a jagged edge indicating it had been ripped. I took it and held it while opening my locker. When I opened the door, there was a folded paper sitting on top of my science book with an edge that matched the paper in my hand. The bell rings, a sound I have learned to hate, so I stuff the paper halves in my book and I make my slow trek to math class. A sign on the door informs me of the test I've forgotten about. Scientific notation and negative to positive exponents. Way. To. Easy. As I breeze through the test, then read my book, I completely forget about the paper. That was my first mistake.
Chapter Three
As I unlock the tricky door I swipe the ever-present hair out of my face. Once I hear the click of the lock set into place, I twist the handle and push. Even though I know no one is home I yell as loud as I can, "I'm home!"
Immediately I head for the kitchen because I am, like every teen, hungry. I settle for a small bag of chips, and then go upstairs to start my homework. As I open my math book something falls out. The halves of the note. I pick them up carefully and search for the tape. Once I have them securely together, I read:
112a Road st
That's my address. What's that supposed to mean? It was typed and the paper was yellowed slightly and folded. Maybe I'll just ask Gideon.
Once I got to possibility's peak, a coffee shop/diner near the library, set out to find Gideon. Usually I can find him fast because his curly black hair stands out against the fluorescent wall patterns. Today he was working behind the counter.
"Hey, Gideon" I said, cradling my math book.
"What's up?" He asked, "If you need help with math then I'm not the one to ask."
"No, It's this," I showed him the note and he looked at it and without looking up he says, "What am I looking at?"
"I found this in my locker after the lock down."
"I didn't put it there."
"Well you're the only one that knows my address." I said, but then I had an idea.
"Let's ask Hank." Hank is the owner and manager of possibility's peak. Everyone calls him Hank even though his nametag says 'the traveler'.
I tart to round the corner of the counter, but Gideon reminds me that I don't work here. He gave me a coffee and a muffin, what I always order, and disappeared into the kitchen and I pick a seat near the corner. It is a blue and white hammock hanging from the ceiling, and swaying slightly.
He came out a few minutes later, still wearing a stick on nametag that said, 'Hello my name is little grasshopper,' the last part in his handwriting, a look of confusion on his face.
"He says it's a warning, but he can't tell you who it's from yet."
"Can he tell me what the 'warning' is for?"
"Apparently not."
Once I finally got the home the lights were off and there was a note on the table. It was from my mom. It said she was at work and would be home in the morning. I turned on the stair lights, went upstairs, and turned them off as I enter my room. The house was totally quiet. That was my other mistake.
Chapter four
I had been sitting on my bed listening to my iPod when I heard it. It was loud enough to hear over the Maroon 5 blasting out of my ear buds. Something downstairs had crashed to the ground with a metallic clang.
I immediately stopped my IPod, turned off the light and grabbed the nearest thing, which happened to be my small square alarm clock. I use the snooze light as a guide as I walk down the stairs as quietly as I can. As I round the corner I start hearing noises, like clicks and mumbled voices. They seemed to be coming from outside so I walked to the kitchen silently. I looked for a weapon. Something to protect myself. But when I heard a loud click, louder than before, I knew to hide.
I darted through the kitchen to the living room and hid in the small cupboard by the entrance to the study. Against the dark walls, this stuck out, but it had a tool set inside that belongs to my dad. The door shut just as the intruders entered.
I press the button on top of my clock and the small space filled with light. I saw a medium-sized black metal toolbox, enveloped in dust. Careful not to make a sound, I undid the latch and opened it. I took out the many screwdrivers and ratchets until I finally found something useable. I have a crowbar. Just small enough to fit in the toolbox. I grasp it tightly getting used to the weight.
With small movements I turn toward the door, gripped the crowbar tightly, and open the door.
I walk out slowly because I expected attackers from every side. No one is there. They went upstairs. Then I hear a creek in the floorboards behind me. I turn with the crowbar raised, ready to strike, but I'm too late. He grabs me by the wrist and twists my arm behind my back. Pain shoots through my body and I cry out, but it is quickly stopped by the raggedy cloth pushed over my face. I know not to breathe in, but my surroundings become blurry and my cries become faint. The sweet smell creeps into my senses as I slip into darkness.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
