Our Version of Events

TAKING THE KEYS from Officer Willis had been an easy feat - he was as attentive as he was skinny. The nearly obese guard had been preoccupied with a Hustler magazine, when Noelle had brushed by him and snatched his keys off of the belt loop they hung on.

That was simple.

What wasn't so simple was lurking through the hallways without making a sound. Even though Noelle had opted for a black skintight bodysuit instead of her bulky juvie uniform, and she'd left behind a good fraction of her belongings - it was still proving difficult to remember to move in silence, and stay in the blind spots of the security cameras.

Not that there were many blind spots in the first place. The warden had assigned Noelle a bunk in the wing with the most camera activity, due to her history at her former detention centers.

She snorted when she remembered how he'd made a point of explaining countless times during their first meeting the consequences of breaking out for the third time. As if she didn't know.

Noelle unlocked the door to the abandoned janitors closet and she kicked down the side door which led to freedom. Once she was outside, she inhaled the sweet smell of fresh air. She glanced over the corner of the building and saw a black convertible drive past the facility and beside the woods. Noelle held her breath and sprinted across the juvie grounds and hastily unlocked the gate closest to the woods and slid through.

Just like that.

Before running towards the forest, Noelle chucked the keys over the fence. She didn't dare breathe until she flung herself into the passenger seat of the convertible.

"Drive." She deadpanned.

Her driver didn't have to be told twice. In the stillness of the night, the only sound that could be heard was the screech of tires as the car sped down the desolate country road.

"Jesus Max, easy." Noelle whined as she applied her lip gloss in the visor mirror.

Max took his eye off of the road and shot Noelle a look. "Nice to see you too Noe." His tone lightened with his next statement. "Took you a little longer this time."

Noelle sighed. "What can I say? I underestimated the Michael N. Weir Juvenile Hall. I mean I was under maximum security but I would've never thought it'd take three weeks to scope the place." She put her feet up on the dashboard and reclined her chair. "Thank God for Albert and his carelessness - if not for that fat fuck I'd be stuck behind cement walls right now."

"Feet off." Max snapped. Noelle complied. "I hope you know this is your third time breaking out Noelle," he continued, sounding sincerely worried. "there's no turning back after this."

Noelle took her chestnut coloured hair out of its messy bun, resulting in her hair blowing wildly in the wind. The humidity that was a constant factor in Floridian nights was as prevalent as ever, and she basked in it.

"Death over dishonor babe," Noelle smirked. "and the only thing dishonorable about my life is that I was sent to that hellhole in the first place."

A wide grin spread across Max's face. "God, I've missed you."

"Hasn't everyone? Now get off on the next exit and take me to a diner, I'm feeling for some pancakes."

✖

For a juvenile delinquent, Noelle had a very systematic way of getting things done. In all her seventeen years of life, each and every moment was immaculately planned, scripted and observed through Noelle's watchful eye.

She ran on a schedule, she had a ritual. And part of said ritual was to go to the best diner in Miami for a late night breakfast post every time she broke out.