Kidnapped

1

I scampered around the corner while tucking my new clothes under my arm and ducked behind a rusting dumpster. The security guards ran right past my hiding place without even stopping.

Smirked to myself, I then slipped out of my old, worn clothes into some leggings, a plain blue tee, and a gray hoodie. Hopefully these clothes will last me longer than the last ones, I don't think the security will be as easily fooled next time.

I looked around carefully, then slipped into the deserted alleyway. Left, right, left, straight, left, left, and stop. A small, old, abandoned shop sat alone on the vacant street corner. I went around back and slid into the slightly open window, landing on the floor below with a soft thud. A rickety old table with a lone chair sat in the corner and a pile of rags formed a makeshift bed on the left wall. A pile of stolen goods, mostly food, sat close to the boarded up door and windows. My home.

Before finding this spot when I was about 12, I had been sleeping in doorways at night, cold and shivering. I recalled a family friend that my mother had had before she disappeared. I couldn't remember her name, but had remembered visiting her shop many times before. It was a last resort, but winter was coming and I would have froze. So, against my will, I dragged myself to her shop, only to find it empty.

Luckily, I had enough sense to stay there for the night and decided to stay there as long as I could before being kicked out. That was 4 years ago, and the police still haven't found me. I grabbed my backpack that I had scavenged from a dumpster a while back and started doing my homework.

Yes, I did live on the streets, but I had signed myself into a school and did all the registration myself. I filed fake phone numbers and names for my parents. As far as the school knew, my mom and dad were Kathy and Dave Waters. I forged their signatures for all the papers. No one ever suspected a thing.

I was that one weird kid who never talked to anyone, was always late, and hardly ever ate. School was school, just like anyone else's, except any normal person probably doesn't get bullied as much as I do.

I finished my Bio and shoved my books back into my bag, then layed down on my rag pile while clutching my necklace that had been given to me by my mother. It was simple, just a small crystal, not worth anything thing, but it was my most prized possession. I closed my eyes and let sleep overtake me.

.............................................................

I woke before the sun was fully out, just like always. I straightened my clothes, which I had slept in, and shoved my bag out the window. Then I shimmied out through it, slung my bag over my shoulder, then went to the nearest gas station.

After using the bathroom mirror to brush my hair with my fingers and washing stray dirt off my face, I step out and see if there is anything I can easily slip into my pocket.

There. Right next to the door, there was a display featuring granola bars.

"½ THE CALORIES!" the signed declared. I could care less about the calorie count, food was food. The clerk was busy watching the TV where an anxious news reporter stood in front of a gun and pawn shop with broken windows.

This was my distraction. "...And now we have a prison break. Notorious gang leader Miguel Adams has escaped prison and is now possibly in this area. This man is extremely dangerous and has killed before. He's been charged with..." I tune out the news anchor's voice and focus on my task.

I silently pad over to the door, and as I open it, slip a couple of the bars into my hoodie. Just as I'm outside, I hear the alarm go off, and break into a sprint. The chubby clerk curses loudly, but I'm too far away for him to suspect the unimportant girl who just came in to use the restroom.

When I near the school, I start to walk again, my breathing still even. The thing about living on the streets and being a thief, you learn to fight and run without stopping. I start to munch on my snack and save my other bar for lunch. Looks like I won't get picked on for having nothing to eat today.

I toss the hood over my head and shuffle to my locker. I shove as many books as possible in the tall, skinny space, then grab my algebra notebook and book. At the last minute, I grab a pencil and shoved it through the back of my ponytail. I go to shut my locker door, but it's slammed shut for me.

Tiffany and her gang form a snickering simi-circle around me. "Well, look who we have here," her sickly, fake high pitched voice squeaked, "Heather, I almost didn't notice you with your new outfit!" I rolled my eyes at her while all her minions gave pig sequel like giggles.

I tried pushing through the crowd, but they just shoved me back into my locker. "Watch where you're going," hissed Tiffany, then she smacked me across the face. I hardly flinched, even though it stung. When you don't have enough money to go to a doctor, feeling pain really isn't an option, so you just have to suck it up.  I've learned to block out the feeling of pain. It's called survival. Plus, I was exposed to severe pain long before I went into the streets on a regular basis. She is positively weak as a peice of lint compared to him.

Thankfully, I was saved by the bell and ducked under a waiting cheerleader's arms and snuck into my class. The teacher rolled her eyes but did nothing, so I slouched into my seat, putting my earbuds in.

.............................................................

At lunch, while I was walking out to my bench instead of eating with everyone else, I overheard some of Tiff's evil minions talking. "Did you hear about Miguel Adams? He escaped, and there have been kidnappings of girls are our age all over the state. I looked up the victims pictures, and they are all super pretty!" The girl gushed.

"Oooh," the other girl starts, "I wouldn't mind being kidnapped by him, I saw his picture on the news..." I tuned out the girl saying something about "biceps" and "a jawline to die for" and continued walking to my bench.

After I scarfed down my granola bar, I decide to grab my gym clothes that the school provided and wait for the rest of my class. The gym was in a different building, so we all had to walk together so "no one is left out". Once the teacher does a headcount, we walk across the soccer field to the building.

As soon as I get to the spot where we are supposed to meet up, I feel like something is off. When you live on the streets, you pay attention. If you ignore your gut feeling and drift off to la la land, it could cost you your life. But that's in the streets, not school where your surrounded constantly by adult supervision.

Chills shoot down my spine as I shuffle my feet. It almost feels as if I'm being watched.

I scan around searching for any signs of danger. A man is standing on the edge of the street walking his dog, another is on the phone a little further down. Nothing abnormal.

I must be paranoid from all the times I've been followed else where. That's what it is.

The coach jogs up to me. "Heather! So glad your on time! How are you today!" The coach laughed.

I stare at her for a second before I  anxiously mutter, "I feel like something bad is gonna happen."

She stares at me for a moment, and then shoots a fake smile at me and laughs, "Oh, you're just paranoid." She eyes me in a I-know-you're-a-weird-kid-but-that-was-sorta-creepy kind of way.

Its silent after that, and besides glanced at my fidgeting, the coach a doesn't attempt anymore  conversation. Slowly the rest of the class trickles in and the coach leads us to the building removed from the rest of the school holding the gym.

I followed along with the rest of the class, but looked around cautiously. Maybe I am paranoid. Maybe I've spent too much time in the streets. So, that's when I make the worst mistake in my entire life.

Instead of following my gut and ditching class for the day, I follow my classmates into the gym.