by Chad Morris
“Do you think our kidnappers foundour lockets?” she asked, a quiver in her voice.
“No,” Jefferson responded. “We were smart to hide them where we did.”
“But even for the others that have them, the lockets probably haven’t even—”
“They will soon,” he interrupted.
Hailey finally surrendered and looked in the woman’s suitcase on the other side of the room. After pulling out a simple dress, she asked, “What about your dad? Do you think he’s okay?”
“He’s safe, if that’s what you mean,” he answered, now buttoning a pair of pants. “But I’m sure they’re holding us here as collateral. If he wants to save us, he’ll have to tell them his secret.”
“There’s no chance he’d do that.”
“No,” he said, folding his old clothes. He paused for a moment, “Not even to save us. Though it will rip at his heart, there is too much on the line.”
Hailey, now wearing the dress and holding her nightgown, looked back at him. He could tell she was thinking. “Jeff?”
“Just a moment,” he said. “Let’s get out of this room first.” They put the suitcases back exactly how they found them and left the cabin, locking the door behind them. With a little luck, the owners wouldn’t even realize their clothes were missing, or they’d think they had just forgotten to pack that dress or that shirt. Then again, unless the owners were going to wear the clothes very soon, it didn’t really matter.
As they climbed the stairs, Hailey began again, “But there are others with lockets. They could follow the clues to save us.”
“Yes. And that’s what we have to hope for. But they’d have to work fast and—against all odds—find out where we are. It’s our only chance, and it’s a long shot.”
“The twins have lockets.”
Abby’s father didn’t speak until after they emerged onto one of the decks of the ship. He leaned on the railing and spoke softly. “For them to figure everything out and face all the challenges needed to reach us would take everything they have,” he admitted. “And there are obviously those who would try to stop them. Whoever these guys are, they won’t give in easily. I’m not sure Derick and Abby stand much of a chance. They probably have no idea how much is at stake or how much their lives are about to change.” He dropped his pajamas over the edge of the ship.
His wife looked down at the ship’s sleek floorboards. “How much time do we have?”
“Two and a half days, and then ...” He didn’t finish the thought; he didn’t have to. They both knew that they, along with over a thousand others, would be dead. He grabbed his wife’s nightgown from her hand, threw it over the railing, and watched it fall into the ocean.
• • •
After Abby received her school-issued gold-colored T-shirt and blue shorts with gold trim, she found a locker. She changed and stepped into the largest room she had ever seen. It was like several gymnasiums combined. Most of the room looked like a regular gym. The south wall, however, did not. It was a mountain. Trees sprouted out sporadically along the rocky terrain, and stone steps carved a trail up the face.
As Abby gazed in awe at the gymnasium, she heard a voice. “Hey there.”
Abby turned to see a smiling blonde girl—Carol from English who had imagined a buffalo with an afro in a tutu. She used the vast majority of her arm to give an enthusiastic wave to Abby.
“Hey,” Abby answered simply.
“Sorry about Ms. Entrese. It was mean of her to suggest that you think about secrets. I couldn’t tell what they were, but I could tell it bothered you. I would have stood up from the Chair too. I mean, I probably would have thought of the time when I secretly borrowed my sister’s training bra and wore it to school when I was nine. Or maybe when I hacked into my school’s computer system and changed my file so my birthday was listed every other month. I know I probably shouldn’t have done that, but they gave out those king-sized candy bars, and I’m a sucker for chocolate. Or maybe when I purposely messed up this scene in acting class about six times. Brian Colfer had to hold me for the whole scene, and I didn’t mind the practice.” Carol spoke even faster now that she wasn’t in front of the class.
Abby smiled. “I guess they aren’t secrets anymore.”
“Oh, I don’t really care if they’re secrets. It’s just what I thought of,” Carol said. Anyone who spoke as much as Carol probably couldn’t keep many secrets. “So are you excited for gym? I can’t wait. It’s good to get up and move around, you know. Plus, all the guys are wearing these cute gym shorts. Can’t complain about that. I mean, I guess you could, if you were blind or something.”
“You sound really excited about this place,” Abby said.
“Might as well be,” she responded. “Beats complaining or moping. That’s what I think, anyway. Someone else may disagree, but they’re probably the moping type—know what I mean?”
“I guess you’re right.”
“My name is Carol Reese. It’s nice to meet you.” She offered her hand with the same enthusiasm she’d shown waving earlier.
“Abby.” She shook Carol’s hand.
“Abby what?” Carol asked.
“Um ... ” Abby hesitated. “Do you promise not to make a big deal out of it?”
“What? Your last name? Is it like McSweaty, or Butts, or Booger or something? I really did meet a boy with the last name Booger. He was nice, but I wasn’t going to marry him. He’s off my list. I can’t have the last name Booger. Mrs. Booger,” she said as if considering it. “No way.”
“No. It’s just—”
“I promise,” Carol interrupted, and crossed her heart. “Poke a thousand needles in my eye. That’s if a thousand could fit, which I don’t think they could, but it does sound very painful, which is the point, right?”
Abby surrendered. “My last name is Cragbridge.”
Carol’s eyes widened, and she started hopping up and down. She looked like she was going to scream, but she bit her bottom lip, which only allowed a happy hum to escape. “You mean you’re related to Oscar Cragbridge?”
“He’s my grandpa,” Abby said.
“Wow.” Carol shook her hand again. “Oh, that’s why you pictured him when you were in the Chair! I can’t believe it.”
“I can’t believe you have this much energy,” Abby said, watching Carol jump.
“Hey, it’s better than being boring,” Carol said.
“True,” Abby agreed.
Carol calmed for a second. “Oh! I heard a rumor that a girl in our year got into school because she was related to Oscar Cragbridge. She didn’t have good grades, or high accomplishments, or anything. And she is like pure evil. I think my roommate added that last part though. That rumor doesn’t have anything to do with you, or some evil cousin or something, does it?”
Not again. And just when she seemed to be about to make a friend. “I ... I think so. I mean ... yes. But I’m not evil, and my grandpa seems to think I deserve to be here even though I’m just kind of average.”
Carol paused for a moment, then shrugged. “I guess that’s cool. I mean your grandpa’s a genius. So I’ll trust his judgment. Plus, in a way it makes you stand out. In a sea of people who are geniuses and standouts, you’re ordinary. That almost makes you extraordinary.”
Abby knew Carol was trying to help her feel better, and it worked, at least a little. There was no harsh judgment in her voice. No threats. In fact, for the first time, Abby felt close to accepted.
Two coaches approached the class. Most of the clumps of students stopped chattering and looked up. “Welcome to physical education,” a large voice boomed. It came from an equally large man. He wore black exercise pants that swished as he walked, and an extra-large blue T-shirt that tightly lined his mounds of muscle underneath. The T-shirt had the words “Cragbridge Hall” printed in bright white letters. He was twice as wide, and a head taller, than most men Abby had seen. She guessed he was in his late forties, maybe early fifties, but still in great shape. “Ga
ther round.” He motioned with his hands, and the students quickly obeyed.
A trim woman stood next to the man in a matching uniform. “I’m Coach Adonovich,” she said, putting her hand on her chest. She spoke confidently with a thick Russian accent. “And this is Coach Horne. Your parents would quickly recognize him as the United States gold medal weight lifting champion in three Olympics, but that was probably a little before your time.”
Coach Horne broke in. “And Coach Adonovich has been a top world gymnast for the last decade. She’s only recently retired from her professional career to teach here.”
Coach Adonovich smiled briefly, then continued to address the class. “We have many advantages here at Cragbridge Hall,” she said. “One of them is you. You have been admitted to this fantastic school because of your overall education. It is not just your academic grades. You have all met a minimum standard in physical education. That is extremely important. Your brain works better if your body is in good condition.”
Coach Horne took over. “Every day when you come to P.E., we’ll have a challenge for you—one that will not only maintain your good form, but also teach you. Before we get to our first activity, you’ll need to stretch. Let’s start with the calves.” He put one leg in front of the other, stretching out the back one.
Abby, Carol, and the rest of the students followed his lead.
“So where are you from?” Carol whispered, switching to stretch her other leg. She was going twice as fast as the coach, which wasn’t surprising.
“I grew up about forty miles from here. You?”
“Antioch, California,” she said simply. “It’s in the Bay area. I love it—especially going down to San Francisco, but it’s really hilly. I mean, you’re going up and down all the time.”
“So what did you do to get into Cragbridge?” Abby asked. It felt good to be on the other side of the question.
“Oh, I’ve done some acting—a few low-budget web series. Nothing on the prime sites, but I don’t think it counts.”
“Wow. That’s incredible.”
Carol smiled. “Thanks, but statistically speaking, that doesn’t make me more likely to succeed. In fact, it just makes me more likely to eventually have a large lawsuit against my parents, get a criminal record, abuse prescription drugs, and get divorced more than three times in my adult life.”
Abby laughed, now stretching both her arms high above her head like the coach demonstrated.
“Alright. Now for today’s challenge,” Coach Horne called out. He moved his fingers, which were obviously synced to a school network. Images of Chinese boys surrounded the group. Coach Horne was using the Bridge.
The boys all wore loose yellow outfits with what looked like white socks tied with black straps. Were the straps to keep their socks on? Abby had no idea. At a word from their instructor, they broke into a series of kicks, punches and jumping twirls. The oldest of the group looked about fifteen, and the youngest could not have been older than four. They all moved with amazing agility and grace.
“These boys study at the temple at Shaolin,” Ms. Adonovich called out. “One day they hope to become monks there.”
Several of the virtual boys came forward. One by one, they did a series of flips, kicks, and handstands that caused the students in the gym to cry out with applause. Two Shaolin boys climbed a sixteen-foot wall along one side with only their feet, then turned to sit on the top of the wall. What looked like the oldest of the boys seemed to be lost in meditation. Several others approached with spears held up. The oldest boy then lay on multiple spear points while the others carried him that way for half a minute. When they set him down, he didn’t have a scratch on him. Again the class clapped.
“It sounds like you’re impressed,” Coach Adonovich called over the gathered students. “There is a way these young men become so physically fit and mentally strong. They wake up every morning at 4 a.m. and run up a larger version of this hill.” The coach pointed to the mountain behind her. She nodded to Coach Horne, who moved his fingers again. The virtual boys began running up the pale carved stairs. “This is the easy part,” Coach Adonovich continued. “It gets tougher when they come down.”
“Follow the boys up the mountain,” Coach Horne said, then blew his whistle.
The mass of students moved toward the stairway. Several boys tried to prove their prowess by sprinting up the stairs. Abby and Carol jogged from the middle of the mass of students. Abby felt good to be doing something she knew how to do; she’d run every day for several years now. She loved it. Running helped her get out her discouragement, and it focused her mind.
Carol looked over at her. “I still can’t believe that you’re related to—”
“You promised not to make a big deal out of it,” Abby interrupted.
“I guess I did. But I don’t think I am making a big deal out of it. I’m ecstatic. I mean, he’s the most influential scientist in history. He’s not like my granddad at all. My granddad is likely to sit around and play his old video games—the ancient kind where they used little controllers.”
Abby laughed. That didn’t sound like her grandfather at all. The two girls passed several other students, and then a girl burst by them.
Long dark hair swooshed past them—the same hair Abby had seen as she was locked out of her own dorm room.
“I thought you said you ran track,” Jacqueline said over her shoulder.
More emotions surged through Abby than she knew she could feel. All the stress and difficulty of the last twenty-four hours seemed to rush over her. She hadn’t realized Jacqueline was in the class. For a moment, Abby wanted to slow down and nurse the growing pit in her stomach, but then she realized she was supposed to be getting out her energy, relieving her stress. And Jacqueline just gave her a very good reason to run harder. Abby looked at Carol.
“You know, I’d love to chat with you, but right now ...”
“You really want to beat Miss Prissy up to the top?” Carol asked. “She doesn’t seem nice. I mean what’s the deal with, ‘I thought you said you ran track’?” Carol moved her head in exaggerated sweeps to flip her hair.
“She’s kind of ruined my last day and a half. I could use this.”
“I’ll try to keep up,” Carol said.
Both girls nearly doubled their speed, pressing up the stairs. They passed student after student. Abby looked at Jacqueline’s back; the sight fueled her legs. She pressed harder, but made sure to pace herself. She didn’t want to run out of steam before the top.
“I don’t buy ... that stuff about you just being ... ordinary,” Carol said, starting to get winded. “You’re not even ... breaking a sweat.”
“Then what is this watery stuff ... coming out of my pores?” Abby asked.
“You know ... what I mean,” Carol said. “It’s just an expression. Like ... like ... I can’t really think right now ... We’re running too fast ... It’s shutting off my ... brain.”
The two girls had been running long and hard enough now that they could no longer talk. They increased their speed to yet another level. They would have to in order to catch Jacqueline. Abby pushed herself harder. She thought of Ms. Entrese. She thought of giving away the secret of the locket, and she ran even harder. She thought of how intimidated and scared she was to be at Cragbridge Hall and pushed harder again. She thought of sleeping in the hall. Her legs pushed more.
They passed runner after runner as they approached the top. Jacqueline was now in the lead, with a couple of boys a few steps behind. Abby thought her lungs would burst. She passed one boy, then another.
Jacqueline looked over her shoulder, saw Abby, and moved faster. Abby was at her heels. Carol gave out a slight grunt and tried to keep up. Abby bit her bottom lip, only half a step behind. The three pushed on in a dead sprint, the top of the synthetic mountain quickly approaching. Soon there was only a matter of inches between them.
Abby could almost taste victory. She wanted it. She had pushed herself this far, and she wasn’t a
bout to let her goal slip out of her reach. She tried to dig deeper, to find a place in her muscles she had not yet reached—to simply will them to go faster and push more.
Jacqueline turned her face sideways. “Never,” she said, and her lips curled up into a half smile. “You’re not in my league.” She increased her speed, not thirty steps from the top.
Something in Abby popped. Something that had been holding back her last bit of strength burst open, and desire surged through her body. She could not stand to lose—not today. This girl had just unleashed everything Abby had. Her legs pushed, her heart pumped stronger and faster.
There were ten steps left. Eight. Five. Three. Abby leveled with Jacqueline, and pushed into a slight lead. She was going to win.
Jacqueline flung her arm to the side, hitting Abby in the stomach. Her breath escaped, and she faltered for a split second.
Jacqueline sprinted past, winning the race.
Abby slowed after reaching the top, glaring at Jacqueline. Soon Carol joined her. All three walked around, waiting for their hearts to slow down.
Jacqueline beamed at Abby. “Good try,” she said. “But maybe you don’t belong on the top.”
“I’m in the best shape of my life, and I couldn’t keep up,” Carol said. “I’m impressed with both of you. Except ... for your cheating thing.” She pointed at Jacqueline. “That was ... really low. I mean ... are you like a second-grade boy ... who just can’t stand to lose? No offense, but it was really immature.” Though Carol was winded, she still managed to speak fast.
“Are you with her?” Jacqueline asked. “I wouldn’t hang out with her ... You’ll get dumber by osmosis.”
Abby glared at Jacqueline. “Have you always cheated to get to the top?”
Jacqueline huffed. “It’s not cheating if you win.” The way she said it, Abby was sure she believed it.
Just then, someone Jacqueline knew finished the run, and her face went from anger to delight. “Good job, Kevin,” she congratulated. There was no sign that she had just been spitting darts at Abby and Carol.
