Nightfall

by Douglas, Penelope

  I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. The senior lock-in was held every October, and it was tonight. After the basketball game. Non-seniors could attend only if they secured an invitation from the graduating class, and even then, the seniors were only allowed to invite one person each.

  One senior used their only pass to invite me?

  It had to be a mistake.

  “Take it,” I told her.

  There was no way I was going. This was a trap waiting to happen.

  She held it for a moment and then sighed, handing it back to me. “As tempting as that is, you need this more than me.”

  I crumpled it in my fist, about to toss it onto the floor of my locker, but Elle plucked it out of my hand and stuck it inside my jacket, slipping it in between two buttons.

  “Line up!” our director called.

  But I was swatting Elle’s hand away. “Stop, dammit,” I gritted out. “I’m not going.”

  “In case you change your mind,” she chirped. But then she dropped her voice to a whisper. “I mean, what’s to worry about? It’s not like you’re really locked in with them.”

  Them. She meant the seniors.

  But when she said it, only four came to mind.

  I side-eyed her, tossed Godzilla into my locker, and pulled out my flute.

  • • •

  “He’s so cute!” Elle said, but it came out in a little growl like he was a baby and good enough to eat.

  I chuckled under my breath. I wasn’t sure which one she was talking about, but I could guess.

  Will Grayson jogged down the court, dribbled the ball, and passed it to the center before racing ahead again, catching it, and shooting it straight into the basket.

  It slipped through the net, the scoreboard added two points, and the crowd cheered. Michael Crist shot him a five and charged down the court, sliding in front of the other team’s forward and stealing the ball again, passing it to Kai.

  “Whoo!!” everyone screamed around me.

  I wiped the sweat off my forehead, watching Will lift his shirt up and use it to do the same.

  I couldn’t help my eyes falling to his bare stomach, the shorts making his skin look more golden with the ridges and dips tight and visible from here.

  Heat covered my face again, and I looked away. Navy blue was absolutely his color.

  I tried to space off like I did with the football games, but even when I wasn’t looking at the court, I wanted to look at it. Will Grayson was the best shooter we’ve ever had, better than Crist who was already in talks for an athletic scholarship he didn’t need for college next year.

  Why wasn’t Will vying for one? How lucky it must be to have a talent like that to get you in the door, but then again, he didn’t need help opening doors, did he? He was probably a legacy somewhere, his future already planned.

  The final buzzer blared, and I checked the scoreboard, making sure of what I already knew. We won. By a lot.

  Too bad it wasn’t a real game. Just a little show before the regular season started in November.

  Hesitantly, I raised my eyes again, finding him on the court. He talked to Damon Torrance as he wiped the sweat off his face, the wet hair at the back of his neck darker than the hair on top.

  Then…he looked over his shoulder and locked eyes with me.

  A smile spread across his face, like he knew I’d been watching him the whole damn time, and my face fell, heat rising to my cheeks.

  Ugh. I looked away.

  Such an ass.

  Everyone descended the bleachers, the crowd dispersing, and I looked up at the clock, seeing it was just after seven. The hunger pangs had stopped, but my mouth watered for that granola bar, and now I could eat.

  I wasn’t stupid enough to eat food from someone I didn’t know, though. Hopefully Martin left me alone so I could get some food in me before he went to town.

  “Scott!” someone called.

  I looked up to see Mrs. Baum, the director. I slipped through the crowd of students, walking over to her.

  She leaned in. “Change and put your instrument away,” she told me quietly, “and then hurry back into the gym to help clean up the mess before the lock-in.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I was grateful she didn’t shout that across the room. No one needed reminding that I was a work-study kid.

  Heading for the locker room, I passed Elle as she talked to two of our band members. “Have fun tonight,” I told her.

  She smiled. “Better hurry and make it out in time before they lock the doors.”

  And then she wiggled her eyebrows.

  “They don’t actually lock the doors,” I retorted. “It’s a fire hazard.”

  She stuck her tongue out playfully, and I smiled, spinning around and heading for the locker room.

  After changing back into my school clothes, I hung my band uniform back up, stored my instrument in my locker, and started to close the door, stopping when I spotted the granola bar.

  I twisted my lips to the side, slipping it off the red ribbon around Godzilla’s foot and checking it for holes like I used to do with Halloween candy.

  It looked safe.

  My stomach hollowed, and suddenly, I was hungry again.

  I stuffed it into the center pocket of my black hoodie. I’ll throw it away in the gym.

  Slamming the locker door shut, I started walking but looked down and saw the crumpled ticket on the floor.

  Crouching down, I picked it up and looked at it again. Must’ve fallen out of my uniform.

  For a moment, I was tempted. I wanted to be that girl. The one with a lock-in and cute boys and music and friends to look forward to.

  The longing coursed through me and eventually out, and I stuffed it into my hoodie pocket, as well. I’d throw that away with the granola bar, too. Definitely before Martin saw it.

  I hurried back to the gym.

  “Okay, one!” Bentley Foster called out. “Two…three!”

  An hour later, the gym was clean of soda cups and popcorn boxes, the bleachers stored, the hoops raised, and the floors quickly swept. Two of us each picked up the ends of several mats, and on the count of three, pulled them open, spreading the hardwood basketball court with a cushion for sleeping bags and blankets.

  In no time, the floor was covered in blue wrestling mats, and my stomach ached at the smell of burgers and nachos wafting in from the kitchen.

  I checked the clock in the wall. After eight.

  Looking over, I caught the director’s eyes. “Are we good?” I asked her.

  “You walking?”

  I nodded.

  “Then go on and go,” she told me. “Have a good weekend. Be safe.”

  “Thanks.” I backed away as they rolled the coolers full of soda and juice out. “You, too.”

  I jogged toward the locker room door to collect my uniform and backpack when I heard her behind me, “Open the doors!” she called to someone.

  Students had no doubt gathered outside, having packed and stored their sleeping bags in their cars since this morning, probably leaving after the game to eat before they came right back here for the lock-in.

  I pushed through the locker room door as the main entrances swung open, letting in the crowd.

  “Scott!” Baum shouted.

  I stopped, turning around.

  She still stood where I left her, muttering into a walkie talkie and then turning her attention back to me. “Coach Dorn is up in her classroom,” she said. “She wants to see you before you leave.”

  I hesitated a moment and then sighed. “Okay,” I called out and spun back around, pushing through the door with a hard shove.

  I needed to get out of here. It was dark, I was starving, and they didn’t really lock the doors during a lock-in, right? I mean, I was pretty sure that was illegal, but now I didn’t know.

  Skipping the stop at my locker, I exited the locker room, swung open the door, and stepped into the hallway, slipping through the students who were
trying to get into the gym. I turned left and jogged up the darkened stairs, their footsteps and chatter fading the farther up I climbed.

  Mrs. Dorn was not only the swim coach, but she also taught biology on the third floor. I took biology two years ago, though. What did she want?

  Was this about me quitting swimming?

  Fear cooled my blood. She knew something didn’t sit right about why I’d quit. I could see it on her face.

  Reaching the top floor, I grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, entering the silent third floor and looking around.

  No lights shone except for the lanterns that glowed outside, and tiny droplets of rain spattered the windows that peered into the courtyard below.

  Great. Now I was going to get soaked walking home.

  The door closed behind me, and suddenly, the lock-in was miles away.

  “Coach?” I called out, walking down the hall toward her classroom.

  Heading up to the door, I stopped and peered inside. Stools sat upside down on top of the long, black worktables, and I looked to the teacher’s desk, seeing her computer off, her chair pushed in, and the classroom pitch black.

  “Coach?” I said louder this time. “It’s Emory Scott.”

  Stepping back into the hallway, I turned, looking around. “Hello?”

  But there was no answer.

  I dug in my heels, charging down the hall and glancing into classrooms as I passed, all dark and not a soul to be found. Everyone was either home or downstairs on the first floor.

  I rounded the corner and then the next, coming up on the teacher’s lounge and found the door cracked.

  Creeping up, I pushed it open a sliver more. “Hello?” I said. “Coach, are you in here?”

  Every hair on my arms stood on end, and all I could see was dark.

  What the hell?

  Then, a shadow suddenly moved across the wall in my view, and I sucked in a breath.

  I swallowed. “Coach?” I choked out.

  Rain tapped the windows behind me, and I knew someone was in the room.

  I almost pushed the door open, but whoever was in there heard me.

  And they weren’t responding.

  To hell with this. I tried. She could talk to me Monday.

  Jetting off, I ran to the end of the hall and threw my body into the door leading to the other stairwell.

  But it didn’t budge.

  I grabbed hold of the bar and shoved again, the door jiggling but not opening.

  “No, no, no…” I pushed again and then tried the other one, kicking at it and growling. “They don’t really lock the doors,” I mocked myself.

  Shit!

  Running back the way I came, I bolted past the teachers’ lounge and whoever might be in there, heading back toward the lab, passing it, and trying the doors I came through when I arrived.

  I shook the handles, yanking and shoving, but they wouldn’t open. Dammit! Did they lock behind me automatically or…

  I shook my head, not wanting to think about the other option.

  I slipped my hands inside the pocket of my hoodie, but when I pulled out the items inside, all I had were the granola bar and the lock-in ticket.

  “Where’s my phone?”

  I breathed hard, my hair tickling my nose as I searched my brain.

  My locker. I’d left my phone in my backpack inside my locker.

  I couldn’t call home anyway. Not yet. Martin was a last resort.

  I could call the office.

  Or Elle.

  I closed my eyes. “Shit.” I didn’t even know her number. I didn’t know anyone’s number. A friend would be useful right now, loser.

  There had to be speed dial on a classroom telephone for the front office. Please, please, please, let someone be in there.

  I rushed back to the biology lab and swung inside the door, grabbing the receiver off the wall and squinting at the keypad.

  I couldn’t see shit. I flipped the light switch.

  But nothing happened. “What?” I breathed out, confused.

  I flipped the switch up and down a few more times, looking up at the lights and hoping for a flicker, but they were dead. The room was black.

  I gritted my teeth and clenched my thighs, because I felt like I was about to pee my pants. I pushed my glasses back up my nose and squinted at the keypad again, trying to make out the writing.

  Before I could dial, something glinted to my left, and I looked down on the floor, seeing a large, wet footprint.

  I stopped breathing, following the trail, but it disappeared out the door and into the hallway. Whipping around, I dropped the phone, seeing the window on the other side of the room open with rain pouring across the roof outside, splattering the windowsill.

  I was just in here, looking for Dorn. That window wasn’t open.

  I dropped the phone and backed into the hallway, keeping my eyes peeled.

  “This isn’t funny!” I barked. “And I’m not scared!”

  Twisting my head left and right, I continued retreating to the wall of windows that wrapped around the third level, glancing over my shoulder to see if I could signal anyone outside in the courtyard.

  There was no one, though. Just dark and rain and trees below.

  So the lights were cut off. The doors were suddenly locked. Someone creepy was playing around, probably the same creep who sent me the invite to the lock-in.

  Fucking Will Grayson.

  I squared my shoulder, looking left and then right. “How flattered I am that you have nothing better to do with your time than this,” I bit out. “Come on. I’m almost excited. Let’s go.”

  This was bullshit. I had things to do. I had to get home.

  But no. Everyone was at their disposal for their entertainment. No one else’s time was important.

  “You think you can scare me?” I said, not yelling anymore, because I knew he was close. “You’re boring.”

  I didn’t know anything about fighting back or protecting myself, but I knew that nothing surprised me.

  I might not win, but I wouldn’t scream.

  Dashing back into the biology lab, I reached around the door frame to grab the receiver I’d left dangling, but I only caught air. Patting the wall, I searched for the phone and looked up, seeing the receiver and its cord gone.

  What…? My heart skipped a beat. I just had it in my hand.

  I quickly scanned the room, knowing someone was in here. I tried to spot them in one of the darkened corners, or their eyes peeking through one of the bookshelves…

  Maybe Michael Crist’s red mask, Kai Mori’s broad shoulders, Damon Torrance’s stupid smirk, or Will Grayson’s black hoodie.

  But I wasn’t waiting around. Leaving, I ran back toward the teachers’ lounge and darted into the girls’ bathroom, hopping up onto the radiator and unlatching the window. Flipping it up, I hung my arms over the side and stuck my head out.

  I tried to lift myself up, my legs flailing as I tried to get some traction against the wall to push myself up more, but my back ached, and the muscles in my stomach burned as I struggled.

  If my spaghetti arms could lift more than a blueberry, that would be fantastic. God, I was pathetic.

  I grunted, using every ounce of strength to pull myself up, but I heard something and stopped.

  Looking over the gym roof, I saw Michael Crist on the outdoor basketball court dribbling a ball and shooting baskets in the rain.

  He was outside.

  He wasn’t inside.

  Were they all outside? If it wasn’t the Horsemen up here with me, freaking me out, then who…

  The bathroom door suddenly whined behind me, and I didn’t know if someone was leaving or coming in, but I scrambled, hopping down off the radiator and whipping around to face whoever it was.

  The door swung closed, no one in front of me, but then a click pierced the silence, and my eyes flashed to the stall door.

  The closed one.

  Someone was in here. Someone’s…


  I couldn’t swallow.

  If it wasn’t Will and his pals, then that changed things.

  Running past the stall, I threw open the door and dashed into the hallway, making my way for the chemistry lab. It had a window like the bio lab, and I could crawl out onto the roof—flail, scream for help, whatever. I was safer in the open than stuck up here with God-knows-who.

  Laughter broke out from somewhere, echoing down the hall, and I noticed more wet tracks on the floor, some leading back to the bathroom where I was and some moving alongside me.

  Tossing a look over my shoulder, I saw a dark shadow moving through the glass in the other hallway and the door to the bathroom swing open, another figure emerging.

  My stomach rolled. What the hell?

  Racing into the chem lab, I closed the door, locked it, and pulled the shade down on the window.

  Rain fell all around, pummeling the roof and tapping the windows, but I heard it louder in here.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  It was loud. Just like in the bio lab.

  Looking over my shoulder, I saw that one of the windows was open in here, too—rain bouncing against the roof outside and drenching the countertop along the wall.

  I dropped my eyes to the floor, my heart sinking as I saw more wet footprints.

  Only this time, they weren’t leaving the room. Following the trail around the desks, I walked toward the back of the room and stopped as they disappeared into the dark corner.

  I tried to inhale a breath, but I couldn’t stop shaking.

  Grabbing a pair of tongs off the tray on the table, I kept them in my fist before picking up a flask, rearing back, and launching it into the corner.

  It shattered against the bookshelf, missing the corner by a mile, because I suck, and I picked up a beaker next, throwing it at him—whoever it was—and hitting the wall this time.

  I kept going, picking up a cylinder and loading my arm, but then…

  He stepped out, his dark form somehow much bigger than I was expecting.

  I took a step back but released a breath, looking up.

  Jeans, black hoodie, and a white paintball mask with a red stripe down the left side.

  Will.

  I almost relaxed. Until I dropped my eyes and noticed the gloves. Black leather. He balled his fists, making them grind and whine as he stretched the material that glinted in the moonlight.