by Cate Corvin
I ripped through the card catalogue in record time, driven by the newfound energy of an Actual Life Plan. I barely noticed when Mrs. Clarke left, waving over my shoulder as I dragged a ladder over to the Histology shelves. There were several books that’d been requested by the Biology department, and it involved climbing fifteen feet to get them down.
Full night had descended by the time I’d packed up the textbooks for delivery, straightened the tables and chairs, and checked in another delivery. I finally swept a hand through my hair, yanking it back in a ponytail and pulling my bag over my shoulder.
Nobody was in the halls when I left and locked the door behind me. I stepped out into balmy night air, taking a deep breath to clear my head.
One thing I knew for sure: I wanted to be the Pet because I wanted it. Even without the pictures that condemned me, I wanted them all. They stoked the fire that burned inside me, the desire to be more than what I was.
Once I worked up the nerve, I’d ask them to destroy the evidence. I would remain theirs for the rest of the school year, or however much time I had with them.
And if they did respect me, the way I thought they might, maybe they’d actually do it. The thought made my shoulders tense, but I’d gotten away with far more backtalk than I’d have believed possible on that first fateful day.
If they wanted me to stand up for myself so badly, maybe they were waiting for me to ask. It could all be a test to see just how downtrodden and mousy I’d remain, or if I’d pull myself together and demand fair treatment in this.
Tomorrow was the day.
I set out across the lawn. The parking lot was nearly empty, and I ducked past Rhett’s car. I wasn’t going to go find him, not while I was steeling myself to make my request. I needed just one more night to be cowardly before I brought my foot down.
The trees welcomed me with wide-open arms. My feet crunched over dry leaves, and I left the lights of Bourdillon behind for darkness.
I’d walked so far that Bourdillon was almost invisible when I heard a crunch that wasn’t me. I froze in place, my ears perked up for any sound out of the ordinary, and laughed under my breath when I heard nothing. There were miles of wilderness. It was probably just a deer or a fox.
But a prickle ran over my skin. It was the kind of innate response every mammal had built into their system: the sudden, total knowledge that unfriendly eyes were on them.
I held my breath, my heart thumping in my ears, and I turned my head back towards the school. The parking lot lights were just visible through the trees.
A dark shape, wider and much shorter than the trees, moved to the side.
My limbs felt watery as I dug in my bag for my house key, taking several shaky steps deeper into the forest. I was absolutely sure that shape was not a deer, but a human man. And that brought an unpleasant memory to mind: Rhett and Gabriel, talking about a woman who’d been attacked in this area only a year ago.
Hunted down. Her house broken into.
I should’ve waited for Rhett.
When I gripped the keys, they nearly slipped out of my sweating palm again. I pushed the keyring against my palm, letting my lone key jut from between my first and second knuckles like a claw. It was a single claw, but it was better than no claw.
At the very least I could punch with it, if the figure following me drew too close.
I silently cursed as I took another few tentative steps and heard another muffled crunch behind me. My best bet was returning to Bourdillon, but my stalker was between me and the safety of the streetlights. I even thought about digging for my phone, but it was lost in the mess of my bag, and the bright screen would give me away like a beacon in this darkness.
So it was a mile of tangled forest instead. The one good thing I could say for this was that I knew the path, the easiest route to run without twisting an ankle. I could outpace that shadow.
I took off like a bat out of hell, twigs slapping my face in the dark, my breath ripping in and out of my lungs. The crunching footsteps of my follower were drowned out by the roar of blood in my ears, the steady rasp of breath.
I ran until a sharp stitch formed in my side and skidded to a halt, leaning on a tree and listening with all my might for anything.
It took a single minute for my hopes to be broken. The sound I’d mistaken for my ragged breath was the sound of feet. Whoever was following me, they knew where I was going.
There was no way to cut through another part of the forest, not without ending up hopelessly lost, or worse, injured. Old ravines cut through the trees, and the only safe path I knew was the one I took home.
I took several more deep, gulping breaths, told the stitch in my side to hold the fuck on until I’d made it to safety, and began running again.
Until a rock flew out of the darkness, striking a tree in front of me. I yelped, the sound tugged out of me involuntarily, and the house key went flying when my hands jerked up to shield my face.
Fuck, fuck, FUCK.
I wasn’t scrambling around in the leaves looking for it. Mom would be home. She’d be there to answer the door.
The last quarter mile passed like an eternity, and I almost sobbed with relief when I saw the cottage’s porch light through the tree line.
Whoever was chasing me was slow and steady. I’d never been the fastest runner, and a horrible thought occurred to me.
Was he playing with me?
I stumbled across the road and up the stairs, jerking open the storm-door and pounding on the wooden one.
I realized I was chanting under my breath, my mind so bogged down by shock and exertion I hadn’t realized I was talking out loud. “Mom, open the door, open it, please, Mom…” She might’ve fallen asleep. Dana would’ve stopped by to give Mom her night meds.
I jiggled the brass handle and met nothing but resistance. Sweat-soaked strands of hair fell in my eyes when I looked back over my shoulder frantically.
With the porch light on, I had to squint, but the leaves on a low bough rustled. The taste of copper flooded my mouth as the dark figure resolved between the trees, inexorably locked onto me.
He stepped into the street as I pounded the door.
There was nowhere left to go.
Then the door swung open behind me and I fell inside.
“Jane?” Mom’s voice was bleary with sleep as I shot to my feet and slammed the door shut, locking it with both deadbolt and chain. I dumped my bag on the floor, scrabbled for the hard shell of my phone, and collapsed against the door, dialing the cops with shaking fingers.
To Be Continued...
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