by Nancy Isaak
Truthfully—Peyton confused us.
Sometimes, we thought she was on our side; other times, she was so completely a Fox it was disturbing.
Still—on October 24th, my birthday—she showed up on the field, stalking toward us and looking totally irritated. She was pulling Jay behind her, a manicured hand wrapped up in Jay’s “Doctor Who” t-shirt.
“How come you’re by yourself?!” Peyton snapped at Rowena, the 12th grader guarding us.
It was early morning and the football field was empty, except for a girl cutting across it at the far end, heading—no doubt—toward the cafeteria for breakfast.
“Um—Katy just went for a quick smoke,” said Rowena. “She should be back in five minutes, no later.”
Peyton pushed Jay forward, so that she was standing in front of our cage. “Say what you gotta say, bitch,” ordered Peyton. “You’re lucky I’m feeling so generous.”
Jay looked shaken. She rubbed a trembling hand over her t-shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. “You guys okay?”
“We’ve been better,” I said.
“Any sign of Shawnee?” Cherry asked, hopefully.
Jay shook her head. “Lily’s okay, though.”
Peyton smacked Jay on her shoulder. “Shaddup…follow the rules, bitch!”
Rowena smothered a laugh; she was enjoying this.
“They wouldn’t let me come before,” Jay explained, her voice nervous and squeaky. “I’ve been kind of like—the girl who waited.”
There was something weird going on with Jay. Her hands wouldn’t stop playing with her t-shirt. And she was staring straight at me—not blinking—as if trying to make me understand something.
“At least you’re not waiting in this place,” muttered Jude. “The maid service here sucks.”
Behind Jay, Peyton was pacing—her eyes returning again and again to the gate that led onto the field. Suddenly, she reached out and pushed Jay. “Seriously, I don’t have time for this, bitch!”
Jay immediately turned on her, yelling, “Stop pushing me or I’ll go all River on you!”
Rowena moved forward, pulling out her gun, but Peyton held up a hand—stopping her. “I’ve got this,” Peyton stated, calmly. Then—to Jay—she snarled. “You little turd! You’ve got, like thirty seconds…then you’re out of here!”
Offended, Jay gave Peyton her dirtiest look.
Peyton merely sniffed. “Tick, tick.”
With a squeak, Jay spun back toward us—her words tumbling out quickly, one-after-another. “Happy Birthday, Kaylee! So they wouldn’t let me bring you anything…and…um…like all I have to give you as a present is this memory.”
“Fifteen seconds,” Peyton counted down. “Fourteen, thirteen…”
Jay was so incredibly nervous—practically bouncing up and down on her toes. “Like you remember that time my…um…my cousin Rory took us to see “Pandorica?” she babbled. “That was such an amazing movie, wasn’t it?”
“Rory?” I said, puzzled. Who the heck was Rory? And what was “Pandorica"?
“We had the best time…like my favorite time ever with you.”
“I’m sorry, Jay,” I said. “I don’t remember the movie…or Rory.”
“Sure you do,” she insisted. “It was like the 11th hour and the universe was cracked…um…I mean, in the movie…and then Rory…well, he was amazing, almost like a last centurion.”
“Rory?” I repeated, totally confused.
“Oh, for god’s sake,” snapped Peyton, exasperated. She motioned Rowena over to Jay. “Get this dumbass off the field!”
Jay looked stricken—tears threatening to fall from her eyes.
Rowena, meanwhile, began to stutter nervously. “Um…well, th-there…um…has to be s-someone here at all t-times. C-council’s orders.”
“So, do your math, Rowena. I’m one-third of the Council,” declared Peyton, imperiously. “Which means that you will now give me your gun and I’ll stand guard while you boot this bitch out on her ass. I’ve got something that I want to say to these losers anyway.”
The 12th grader didn’t look at all happy, but she handed over her gun. A moment later, she was escorting a sniffling Jay off of the field.
Peyton, meanwhile, turned back to us. “Well, I think we can all agree that was ridiculous.”
“What’s going on, Peyton?” I asked.
She looked behind her at Jay’s disappearing back and shook her head in irritation. “What your dumbass friend was trying to tell you, is that we’re coming back tonight around eleven to get you guys out. She was using some stupid “Doctor Who” code that she said you’d understand.”
“I didn’t,” I admitted.
“Well, obviously,” she frowned. “Look, Orla is increasing your guards tomorrow, because it’s getting so close to the execution. Tonight might be your only chance to escape.”
As she spoke, Peyton pulled the magazine out of Rowena’s gun and emptied it of bullets. Then she snapped the magazine back in its slot. “There you go—this one’s empty. It’s all I can do at the moment. Now, you need to get yourselves out of that cage.”
“This is your plan?” asked Cherry, looking astounded. “Empty the bullets out of one gun, then tell us to get ourselves out?!”
Peyton shoved her hand under her shirt, and tucked the bullets into her bra. “No—this is me improvising. And it’s not up to you or Kaylee to get you guys out of that cage…is it, Jude?”
Cherry and I turned to look at Jude; she said nothing, her face a blank.
Peyton sighed. “Bitch, seriously? Like I watched you build that thing for hours every day.” She motioned with the gun toward the cage. “You don’t think I know where the scratches are?”
At the edge of the field, Rowena came back through the gate. Peyton looked over at the guard casually, then turned her attention back to Jude. “Ten seconds before Rowena reaches us, Jude. So, can you or can you not get them out of the cage? Because I need to know now or I’ll have to figure something else out.”
Jude just stared at her.
And Cherry and I stared at Jude.
What the heck was going on?
A few seconds later and Rowena reached the cage and Peyton handed her the gun.
“Okay, then,” Peyton said. “I’m outtie.” She started to walk away, then turned back one final time—looking directly at Jude.
And, slowly—Jude nodded.
* * * *
I watched closely as our two guards—Katy and Rowena—walked over to the stands to talk to a girl passing by. As soon as they were out of earshot, I turned on Jude.
“Scratches?!” I asked. “What did Peyton mean by that?”
“Don’t be obvious about it,” muttered Jude, quietly,” but if you look up—at the very top of the bars—on each of the four sides there’s one bar that has a scratch on it.”
Both Cherry and I immediately started whipping our heads around—searching.
“Dude!” growled Jude. “Like I said—don’t be obvious!”
We quickly looked down at the ground.
“You guys are killing me!” Jude groaned. She sat down, her back against the bars. She was facing toward the stands—and Rowena and Katy.
Cherry and I quickly sat down across from her.
“Okay,” said Jude, quietly. “It goes like this. I’m a dummy and an idiot and everyone knows it.”
“You are so not!” I gasped.
“Why would you even say that?” Cherry asked, horrified.
Jude waved a hand around. “Just listen!” When we’d settled down, Jude continued. “Look, I’m good with my hands, I know that. I can build stuff. But I also know that there are girls in this Community who are just as good builders as me. Only they didn’t get put on this cage-building detail. That was all mine—because I’m the dummy.”
I finally got it. “Orla thought that you wouldn’t know what you were really building.”
Jude snorted, nodding. “Like I was so stupid that I wouldn’t know that I
was making a prison!”
“Oh my god,” whispered Cherry. “You hacked the cage!”
“Even a dummy like myself could figure out that—sooner or later—me or someone I cared about was probably gonna’ wind up in this thing.”
“What did you do?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I took—precautions.”
At the stands, Katy and Rowena said good-bye to their friend and were now casually making their way back toward us. I figured that we had less than thirty seconds before the 12th graders would be in hearing range.
Jude tapped her left index finger on her knee, speaking very quietly. “On my left—under the scratched bar, dig down six inches—you’ll find a rasp.”
“What’s a rasp?” I asked, feeling stupid.
“It’s like a big nail file for metal,” said Cherry. “Right, Jude?”
Nodding, Jude tapped her right index finger on her other knee. “My right—screwdriver.”
“Holy crap,” whispered Cherry.
Rowena and Katy were getting closer.
“Opposite me—pocket knife.”
As much as I tried not to—my eyes rose to the scratch on the bar above Jude’s head. “And behind you?”
Jude just grinned. Then, she lifted her fingers to her lips—and turned them.
Tick-a-lock.
Both Cherry’s and my eyes went wide.
Jude had buried the key!
* * * *
“I’m sorry you’re not having such a great birthday,” Cherry said to me—a few hours later.
“There have been worse,” I told her.
“Really?!”
I shook my head, grinning. “Nope. Just kidding. This one is, like totally the worst.”
Cherry reached over and gave me a hug. “Well…Happy 17th!”
“No touching!” Katy yelled at us from a bench in front of the stands. She was sitting there with Rowena, sharing a cigarette.
With a snort, Cherry turned and gave them both the finger.
Behind us, meanwhile—Jude was trying to nonchalantly dig under one of the scratched bars. She was using her sharpened ‘shiv’ to loosen the packed dirt.
“How’s it going on the penknife, Jude?” I asked, quietly.
“It’s going,” she grunted. “Happy Birthday, by the way, Barbie. I’d hug you but I’d probably cut myself on all that bony-ness you got going on there.”
“You’re such a liar,” I laughed. “You’d never hug me. Probably be afraid that you’d get soccer girl-cooties along the way.”
“You do have a point,” she nodded. “But I’d be okay giving you a solid whack in the shoulder—if I cared…which I don’t.”
“Love you, too,” I grinned.
“Shaddup!”
Cherry sat down on the ground, positioning herself, so that she would be blocking the guards’ view of Jude. “When were you going to tell us…about the scratches and what you had buried?”
With a quick tug, Jude pulled a tiny penknife out of the ground. I was pleased to see that it was the one I had given to her for her own birthday. Grinning at me, Jude stuck it in her pocket before the 12th graders noticed.
“I wasn’t keeping the scratches a secret,” Jude explained. “There just wasn’t a chance to tell you guys before. The guards have always been too close—listening with ‘big ears’. I figured that we’d only have one chance—I wanted to make sure it would count. Guess this was it.”
She moved over to the opposite side of the cage. Slowly—so as not to appear obvious—Jude began to dig under the scratched bar to the left of her.
“Is that why you were making a shiv out of your toothbrush?” I asked. “So you could use it to dig under the bars?”
She grinned. “Nope. That’s to stab a Fox—preferably Tray.”
“You really think that you could stab someone?” I asked, horrified by the thought.
Jude nodded. “Sure…couldn’t you?”
I thought about it for a moment—remembering Tray beating up Jude and Cherry—Orla threatening Lily.
“Probably,” I conceded. “But only if they really deserved it.”
“Ask me the same question?” ordered Cherry.
“Okay,” I said. “Cherry, could you stab—”
Bam!...Cherry slammed her fist into the ground.
“I take that to be a yes?” I asked.
Bam!
She did it again.
* * * *
It was closing in on eleven.
Cherry, Jude, and I were sitting on the ground, our backs against the bars of the cage—on the side farthest away from our guards.
It was dark out; a single torch flickered near the gate, casting a sliver of light our way. In the sky, meanwhile, meteorites shot across the heavens.
“I wonder if Jay is watching this,” I mused, looking up. “She’d really enjoy the show.”
“What was with Jay this morning?” asked Cherry, quietly. “Did you ever figure out what she was trying to say?”
“Possibly,” I answered, keeping my voice low. “I mean, it was definitely a “Doctor Who” reference, I know that much. I think Jay was maybe talking about an episode where one of the main characters gets stuck in this big box and the other characters have to get her out.”
Cherry shook her head. “Sci-fi fangirls are so whacked.”
In front of us, Katy took out a cigarette—lighting it. She and Rowena moved a little farther away, passing the cigarette between them.
“What do you think about Peyton?” whispered Cherry. “It’s weird, huh?”
“Gotta give the girl her props,” said Jude, quietly. “I thought I had her marked when she came sniffing around my build—thought I always knew when she was there. But it looks like she has some mad skills after all. I could of sworn that I was alone when I buried the stuff.”
“Almost eleven!” My voice trembled when I spoke. I was feeling an odd combination of scared and excited. “You got everything?”
Jude nodded. “I’ve got the rasp—almost useless for anything but stabbing. Cherry’s got the screwdriver.”
“It’s under my skirt.” Cherry pointed to her crotch. “In my panties.”
“Well, that’s a mind-image I can’t undo,” I joked.
Using her foot, Jude slowly pushed the penknife across the ground in my direction. “You take the knife, Kaylee.”
Making sure that Rowena and Katy weren’t looking, I picked up the penknife and practiced opening the different blades. “What about the key?” I asked.
Jude tapped her back pocket.
“So—how we gonna’ do this?” Cherry asked.
I realized that she was looking at me.
Right…I’d forgotten that I was supposed to be the leader.
“Oh—okay,” I began, thinking hard. “Well, as soon as we can, we need to get that lock on the cage door open. That has to be our first priority. Second goal is to take out the guards.”
Jude opened her mouth to say something.
I quickly pointed my finger at her. “No killing!”
She closed her mouth.
“We’re lucky,” I continued, nodding toward Katy and Rowena, “because they look pretty tired. That might slow them down some.”
For whatever reason, our guards hadn’t been replaced. Rowena and Katy had now been on shift since early morning and were obviously suffering from fatigue. At times their eyelids appeared to droop shut and they were having some difficulty standing on their feet.
“Jude, you’ll be responsible for taking down Katy,” I ordered. “She’s the biggest, so you’ll be matched pretty even. Cherry and I will go for Rowena.”
“She hasn’t discovered that there’s no bullets in her gun, yet, has she?” asked Cherry, worried.
I shook my head. “Not so far. But we’ll still need to remember to grab their weapons before we lock them up in the cage. And I’m pretty sure there’s some duct tape over near the flagpole. Cherry, you need to get that after we take them down. We’ll
use it to tape their hands and their mouths.”
A movement from the far side of the field suddenly caught my eye.
“Over there!” I whispered. “By the bathrooms.”
Cherry and Jude both spun around to look. “I don’t see anything,” said Cherry, peering into the dark.
Deep in the shadows, a light suddenly flared; just as quickly—it was extinguished.
“What was that?” Cherry asked.
“If I had to guess,” I said, “that was a candle being lit and put out.”
“Is that our sign to escape?”
I looked over at our guards. Katy was actually lying down on one of the benches. Rowena was sitting beside her, head drooping, eyes closed.
“It has to be,” I whispered. “Let’s go.”
Jude pulled the key out of her pocket. “Who wants to do the honors?” she asked in a low voice.
I immediately reached for the key. “My birthday!” I grinned.
* * * *
Although it would have been difficult to see in the dark anyway, Jude and Cherry still stood in front of me while I reached through the bars. Carefully—terrified that I might drop the key—I inserted it into the padlock that secured the door to our cage.
“How did you get the key anyway?” whispered Cherry to Jude.
“Dumbasses gave me the padlock to put on the cage,” said Jude quietly. “It had three keys with it. Unfortunately, one of them got lost.”
“They didn’t suspect anything?”
Jude shrugged. “I’m an idiot, remember.”
Click…
The padlock opened in my hand. I pulled it in through the bars and we all stared at it for a moment—as if not quite believing what we were seeing.
“Oh crap!” said Cherry, suddenly.
Jude and I turned to see her looking over at the stands, where Rowena and Katy had just risen from the benches.
They were now heading our way!
“What do we do?!” Cherry asked, panicked.
“Take it easy,” I said, quietly.
“But they’re gonna’ see that the lock is gone!”
