Epic Escape (2 page)

He turned back to his papers and yanked a boarding pass free. “Yeah.” He checked his watch. “We’re headed out, call my secretary. Tell her to take care of the repairs.”

Chase straightened. “I can handle the car.”

Nancy turned away from her reflection. Her eyebrows wrinkled, but her forehead didn’t crease. “How bad a wreck?” Her voice took on a huffy tone and she snapped the lid back on the gloss. “Just how bad did you ruin the Murcielago?”

“The Murcielago’s a Lamborghini. I wrecked the Maserati.” Chase turned back into the hall and started up the staircase. “See ya next week.”

Dad followed him out. “You sure you’re okay?”

Chase hesitated on the marble step, his side aching, feeling the pain and a little shaky sick now that the adrenaline was wearing off. “I…”

Nancy snaked out of the office with an enormous tote bag propped on her hip. She shoved a pair of overlarge sunglasses on her head.

Chase turned away and climbed higher. “I’m fine, have a good trip.”

“Bye son.”

Behind him, the front doors clicked shut and Nancy wailed from outside. “Cupid!”

Chase’s lips twitched.
Ha.
On the landing, he eased his shirt off. New bruises marked his chest and his scraped abdomen appeared red and angry.

He got the first aid kit and treated the cuts with a medicinal gel. The smell reminded him of childhood scrapes, which made him think of Mom. He dropped the tube and paused by his dresser. He couldn’t stop from opening the top drawer. Inside lay a photo on of a pile of unopened cards. The image was of a younger Chase standing in the circle of Mom’s arms. He stared at the picture a moment and eased it off the top of the pile. The cards had arrived regularly on birthdays and holidays since she left. His hand hovered over the unopened stack, and he eyed the waste bin.
She chose to leave.
His fingers clenched and he withdrew his hand. He’d throw them out another day.

Time for school.

C
oach Ameen leaned against the dash, waving for students to hurry as they climbed aboard the bus. A rolled sports magazine hung from his back pocket and an abandoned book by the poet John Donne lay by his elbow. Coach was filling in for their usual English teacher while she took maternity leave, which explained the trip to the movie theater. Coach’s philosophy was “
Why read the book, when you can watch the movie?
”

The bus smelled like Cheetos and shower gel, and the seats were mostly full when Megan climbed aboard wearing the bulky navy blazer over her favorite shirt. She searched for an empty seat and spotted a free one across the aisle from Chase.

Chase was hard to miss because everything about him was bright: golden hair, teal eyes.
Hot and out of her reach.
Her heart rate quickened and she moved toward her destiny: the seat across from Chase. She was one-step away when someone shoved passed, cutting.

Zoe
. Her platinum hair whipped at Megan’s face as she seized the prized spot.

Thanks Zoe.

Megan sighed and sank into the empty seat in front of Zoe, the one next to the sleeping kid drooling on the window. She couldn’t even see Chase from this angle, not without turning her head and being obvious.

“Try for variety, people. I don’t want thirty reviews on the office flick or even one really.” Coach yanked the black handle to close the folding door and nodded to the driver. “Good to go.”

The airbrakes whooshed and the bus jolted into motion. Megan slid forward, and her knees banged into the green, vinyl-covered seatback in front of her. Mom worried about her riding in cars with her friends, but the big yellow dog was the riskier ride. The dog didn’t have seatbelts.

The sleeper beside her flung out his arm, snorted, and twitched. Megan slid nearer to the aisle and tried to look elsewhere.

Her friend Veronica sat two rows back. She motioned for Megan to join her and squeezed closer to her seatmate.

Megan jumped up, glad for once to be short and small. She relaxed against the broken springs in the seatback.

Veronica said, “Cute jacket, matches your eyes.” Veronica had hazel eyes and she wore her hair in a sleek brunette bob that defied humidity.

Megan made a noncommittal noise and ran a hand over her hair. Hers was brunette too, but much lighter, longer, and less controlled.

Coach headed up the aisle and instructed them on his expectations for their movie reviews. “Remember, there’s a
sports
movie showing, and a slasher film.” He paused in front of Megan. “No one wants to read about historical costume dramas,” Coach stared at the band kids next, “or musicals.”

One of the band kids rapped out a tune and several of them swayed to the beat.

The bus lumbered over a speed bump in time with the music, and Megan twisted against the jab of the vindictive spring.

Zoe leaned over her seat to poke the sleeping kid in the head. Her waistband lowered, exposing the top of her leopard thong panties, drawing the attention of the guys.

Flash.

The guy behind Zoe snapped a photo with his cell. Megan waved to warn her, but Zoe smirked and lifted the hem of her shirt an inch higher.

Coach walked back up the aisle, snatched the phone, and slapped the guy in the head with his magazine. When he spoke, he addressed the whole class, “Ten points off if your phone rings and interrupts the movie. Twenty if it’s the movie I’m in.”

Veronica nodded at Coach and whispered to Megan, “Imagine what Zoe will wear to the dance.”

“Please don’t make me.”

“Bet she doesn’t stay within the dress code.”

Coach resumed his walk and paused across the aisle from Riley. “There’d better not be any trouble at the theater.”

Riley was cute, hot, but the painted blue streaks in his hair and his tattooed bicep screamed trouble.

Megan glanced at Veronica. This wasn’t the first time she’d caught Veronica staring at Riley, but he wasn’t dating material at all, not for the preacher’s kid who already had a perfect boyfriend. Megan shifted so the spring would poke a lower part of her back, torn between raising the window to kill the humidity and leaving it open to clear the Cheetos smell. The bus continued its trek down FM249 with the engine grinding and wind whipping through its windows.

Riley’s best friend, Trevor, knelt on his bench seat, twirling his plumed band hat around his hand. “Come on, we have the whole season. Join the band.”

Riley flicked a finger and white fringe flew outward. “Not a joiner.”

Trevor snatched the hat close and caressed its rim. “Embrace the fringe.” He loosened his grip, and poked at Riley with the plume. “Wear it, own it.”

“Uh. No.”

With a thump, the bus lumbered to a stop in the parking lot and the spring in her back got in one final farewell jab.

There was a pause before everyone shoved toward the door, their conversations escalating.

Coach slapped students with his magazine on their way out. “We’re not waiting when it’s over.”
Smack.
“Be on the bus by noon, or catch a ride back with one of the kids who drove.”
Smack.
“I don’t want five pages describing the costumes.”

Megan rubbed at the mild sting on her arm and grinned. “I’ll do what I can, but you know it’s all about the clothes.” She straightened her pink shirt so the hem hung lower than the heavy navy jacket, and exited the bus.

F
illmore patted his walkie-talkie, making sure it was in place, and checked that his cell phone was secured in the utility belt.

Good. All good.

He used two hands on the broom’s wooden handle to sweep the auditorium clear of stale popcorn, breathing in the pleasant salt smell, and bent to get the bristles to the back of the wall. Theater management wouldn’t let him use the blowers during the day. The blowers could reach all the crumbs, even ones that hid behind the screws under the seats and in the corners. The broom sometimes broke the pieces, and he had to crawl to get all the kernels.

They should let him use the blowers. He would defy them if he didn’t fear that the noise would drown out her call. If she called, he needed to be ready.

He checked the utility belt at his waist.

Phone.
Check.

Walkie-Talkie.
Check.

The theater seemed forlorn with the lights up, vulnerable to the hordes who would invade.

He muttered his thoughts, keeping his voice low, so the manager wouldn’t complain again. “Every day they see amazing things, but they don’t learn. They never learn. Same kids, same mistakes.” He scrubbed at a spot of butter with his cuff, and rose on creaky, aching legs to hit the light switch. Lights dimmed and the muted glow from the wall sconces filled the space, transforming the theater into an inviting auditorium. “There we go. Movie magic.”

He opened the auditorium door, locked it into position, and scanned the lobby. “No deviants yet.” He clapped his hands straight overhead.

“September 23
rd
, the Fall Equinox. It’s time. This time they’ll learn.” Behind him, the auditorium lights flickered, then kicked on with an intense, unnatural glow.

He lifted the cell phone to his ear and dialed her number on speed dial. “It’s ready.”

T
he posters advertised their movie options--horror, sports, period piece, musical, fairies, super heroes, and an office drama. Joseph and his other friends argued for the sports flick.

Chase let them dither. “Watch what you want.” He turned to the cashier and placed his order. “One student for
Cabin of Terror
.”

His friends followed his lead.

“So where’s Lauren?” Joseph asked. “No, let me guess. She’s so over.”

Chase ignored the question and tugged at Joseph’s bag. “Big murse.”

Joseph unzipped his man purse. The smell of chicken wafted from a large box of fried drumsticks. Joseph closed his eyes in appreciation. “Snacks. I know they’re not allowed in some theaters.”

“Any theater,” Chase corrected.

“Possibly most theaters,” Joseph zipped the bag, put his back to the lobby door, and depressed the horizontal handle.

Megan sat on a bench near the entrance, reading over Veronica’s shoulder. Veronica had printed the movie reviews and highlighted their best options.

Veronica said, “I narrowed our choices to three:
Pawns, Super Bugs,
or
Oppressed Office Workers
.”

“I kind of wanted to see the costume drama.”

Veronica thumped her pen against the paper. “Didn’t you hear Coach?”

Megan shifted and didn’t answer.

Zoe sat nearby texting and sucking on a strand of her platinum hair. She didn’t lift her gaze from the screen. “Whichever has the hottest guy. I like my movie people smokin’.”

“Strangely, they’re not so much ranked by that,” Veronica said.

“I’ll start the web site. My people want the heat.”

Megan scanned the crowd, wondering which movie Chase chose.

Riley slouched against a pole and absently tapped his fingers. Man it was humid for this early in the morning. At least the theater would be cool.

Trevor joined him in the queue, followed by some of his band geek friends. “What are we getting? Musical? Slasher flick?”

“Whatever.”

A group of guys shouldered past Trevor. “Watch it, donut.”

Riley couldn’t stop the anger that filled him. Fists clenched, he made a beeline for the guy and shoved him directly in the chest. The guy stumbled, fell into the ropes, and caught himself on the pole.

Trevor grabbed Riley’s arm, holding back. “Let it go. Ry, you have to let stuff go sometimes.”

Riley shrugged him off and everything shifted back into focus. He could almost laugh. The guy hugging the pole looked like a drunken dancer at the club where his neighbor worked.

The rest of the guy’s group walked past, hands positioned to indicate they didn’t want any trouble.

M
egan fiddled with the buttons on her navy jacket, watching the fight.

Zoe held out her phone. “Here’s the dress I’m wearing. You didn’t get the same one, did you?”

The image showed low cut, high hem, and a shade of red that didn’t belong on school grounds. Megan’s eyebrows rose, and she shook her head.

Veronica tugged up the neckline on her t-shirt. “Like Meg would ever wear that.”

“I might.”