Chapter 4 Running the Gauntlet

Every day, the bell rang like a starter pistol, and I was off.

I mastered the art of speedwalking—fast enough to avoid suspicion, slow enough to dodge hallway monitors. Her backpack bounced against her spine as she weaved through clusters of students, eyes scanning for the four shadows she dreaded most. I learnt that their names were Talon, Zeke, Yuel, and Narrin. Talker, as I so name him, was Talon, who seemed to be the head of the group, but it also felt like they were equal in their leadership.

Our game of hide and seek had reached a new level; two of the guys, Yuel and Zeke, had moved into English, and Talon and Narrin moved into Art. While I managed to stay away from them mostly as they were new, they had to sit at the front, which was much to their annoyance and my delight. The teacher seemed to think that they needed more watching, so they didn’t partner anyone else with them. They were loud in their disapproval. They were relentless in their begging and whinging to try and get their own way. It didn’t work but they were quiet creative.

Talon had a voice that could pierce concrete, always calling me princess which I hated sure I assumed it started as a joke but now it just irrated me. Zeke had perfected the shoulder bump, subtle enough to appear accidental, yet frequent sufficient to convey a message. Yuel was the quiet one, but his smirk said everything. And Narrin? Narrin was the worst—he didn’t speak much, but he watched. Constantly watched and followed me; he was the hardest to escape.

I didn’t know why they’d latched onto me. Maybe it was because I didn’t play along. Maybe it was because I avoided them, perhaps because I slighted them in some mysterious way. Whatever the reason, they’d made my daily routine a tactical operation.

I memorized the school’s layout like a battlefield map. I knew which stairwell was least used, which hallway had the blind spot near the lockers, and which teacher’s room had a door she could duck into if things got too close. I even timed my bathroom breaks to avoid crossing paths.

But they were fast. And they were everywhere.

By the fourth period, my nerves were frayed. I kept my head down, my hoodie up, and my earbuds in—no music, just a barrier. I didn’t want to hear them. I didn’t want to hear anything.

At lunch, I would rush to my storage room and hide until time was up, my knees pulled to my chest, chewing slowly and watching the clock. I didn’t eat much anymore. My stomach was too tight with adrenaline.

The only light in her day came at 3:15.

That’s when she saw Milo.

Milo was my lifeline. He waited in the parking lot every day, his car unlocked so that I could make a quick entry, the music low, his eyes scanning for anyone who might follow. Milo was just as vigilant; he would tell me that he didn't have any friends and that he was happy that way. But he would voice concern about the four boys being fixated on me.

Every day for weeks, I would burst through the double doors like a sprinter, backpack swinging, heart pounding. Spotting Milo and our beat-up sedan, I would yank the door open and collapse into the passenger seat.

As we would tear out of the parking lot, I would always catch a glimpse of the guys standing together watching us.

We would tear out of the parking lot like fugitives, tires squealing, windows down. I  didn’t speak until they were at least three blocks away. But could breathe a sigh of relief until we were home and the doors were locked.

Weeks turned into months and before long we were approaching our first year in Windmere.

Every day, the same chase. Every day, the same escape. Teachers started to notice my tension. One asked if I was okay. I would lie, just like I would lie about my aunt being away, and that is why she didn’t come to parent-teacher night. If the teachers asked if anything was wrong, I would state that our mother had died and I was dealing with it. I  didn’t want to be labelled, and I didn’t want pity.

But the cracks were showing.

One Thursday, the hallway was unusually crowded. A fire drill had thrown off the schedule, my usual route was blocked. I hesitated—just for a second—and that was all it took.

Talon spotted her.

“Mo! There she is!”

I bolted.

Zeke lunged, but she ducked. Yuel laughed. Narrin followed.

I sprinted down the hall, heart hammering, breath ragged, I shoved past lockers, dodged backpacks, and ignored the shouts. I burst through the exit doors, sunlight blinding me, and saw my car—too far, too far.

She ran. I ran with everything that I had, but I could hear their footsteps behind me, getting closer and closer. I didn’t dare check how close I believed that the few seconds that it would take to look behind me, they would be on me, but it didn’t matter because as soon as the thought entered my mind, I felt the impact from behind, and before I could figure out what happened, the ground rushed up to meet me.

As I hit the ground and roll with whoever tackled me, I twist my body and manage to disengage the person who tackled me and roll to my feet, but I didn’t get more than two steps before I was lifted clearly from my feet and spun around.

“Tsk Tsk. Where do you think you are going?” one of the guys says as he spins me.

I go limp, and the unexpected weight change has the person who grabs me lose balance and almost fall. As my feet touch the ground, I throw my head back and smash the back of my head into his chin and throat. I hear an oomph before his arms loosen and stomp all my weight onto his foot and push forward, racing towards the car.

“What the hell, princess?” I hear someone call painfully.

So, Talon grabbed me. Oh well. As I race over the parking lot, I have the key out, ready to open the door when.