“Today is not Thursday!” Albert said. “We. Got. Here. First! Find somewhere else to camp!”
A hardcover book went sailing past Albert’s head.
“How dare—”
The next one hit him in the face. Members of the computer club began pulling books off the shelves and hurling them across the library. The poets did the same. A tall, heavyset computer clubber picked up a dictionary and flung it. He knocked down a frail-looking girl who’d mostly been dodging books.
“For Ginsberg, for Dickinson, for Sylvia P!” the boy in the turtleneck cried.
“Long live the Bridgewater Poets’ Society!” the rest of the poets shouted in response.
Book after book flew in an arch over the stacks. Once in a while, two hit in midair and pages flew out like feathers.
I tried creeping toward a corner on the computer club side. Without even looking in my direction, Albert pointed at me and shook his head “no.” The tall guy moved to stand in my way, arms folded.
I backed off and stared down the center of the library. It was a straight shot to the doors on the other end. The only things in my way were the reference books being thrown like shot puts. I pulled up the hood of my sweatshirt and got moving.
14
I made it out of the library bruised but basically unharmed. No contact with sharp corners or any dictionary-sized items. I felt a book bang against the library door after I slammed it shut behind me.
I’d sort of assumed that some of the computer clubbers were filled with pent-up rage, but the poetry club too? What was going on? I thought of Macy, then of Blake Golding. How many more kids were going to get mangled before the police found a way in?
The sound of books landing and the occasional chant from the poets bled through the door. I took a step forward, but I could barely make anything out in the dark. A row of lockers stood a few feet in front of me. Somewhere nearby were the weight rooms and the training room where I’d gotten my shins taped up during my cross-country days. A whole side hallway of athletic-type rooms outside the gym, close to the library. But there was no telling if I’d be any safer there.
Maybe I can track down some Icy-Hot to squirt at my next attempted murderer, I thought. Crap. I am really, dangerously alone right now.
Over the noise from the library, I began to hear footsteps down the hall. Not like the last time—louder, more rhythmic. More than one pair, not afraid to let you know they were coming. Suddenly they were upon me.
“You waiting on anyone in particular, Jackie?” asked one of the steppers.
“Pete!”
“Are you okay?”
“Still breathing,” I said. “Almost lost my life in a hurricane of nerd rage.”
“What?”
“Don’t go into the library.”
I leaned up against a locker and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Pete—” I started, not really knowing what to ask. “What are people doing?”
“The school’s gone crazy. Far as I can tell. We went looking for you.”
He nodded to the two cross-country guys who had run up alongside him. “Carl’s got a little sister somewhere in the building too. Cross-country’s managed to occupy the wrestling room. It’s comfortable—mats on the floors. A good place to camp out until stuff stops being so weird.”
“Only one door in or out,” he added. “Easy to defend.”
I cocked an eyebrow.
“So there’s no way to escape if a bunch of rabid creative writers try to storm it?” I asked. “That sounds great, Pete.”
He folded his arms. “Are you coming or not?”
One of his teammates spoke up: “We gotta keep moving, Pete.”
I grabbed an ankle and tried to stretch. “I’m in, I’m in! Of course I’m in.”
We took off running, Pete’s two friends in front, me straggling behind. Pete hung in the middle, shooting me concerned glances every few steps.
I couldn’t remember running so much in one day since quitting cross-country as a freshman. My lungs kept trying to take in new breaths before I managed to breathe out the previous ones. I forced my knees up in sloppy jerking motions. But I might as well have been running in place. The gap between me and the guys in front got wider and wider.
After a few turns, I stopped completely and leaned over. Panting, I gripped the edges of my thighs. Every muscle felt like it was tightening up.
Pete jogged back to where I’d quit. “Come on, Jackie, let’s keep moving.”
I tried to steady my breathing before I replied. “You don’t think here’s good? I think here’s good.” I coughed. “How do you guys deal with all this lactic acid?”
“I’m serious, Jack, we can’t stay here.”
The guys up ahead were barely visible in the dark up ahead. Their footsteps halted for a sec.
“Pete, we can’t stop again!” one of them shouted. “We said no stopping.”
Pete grabbed my sleeve and spoke with a kind of sternness I wasn’t used to. “Jackie—”
“I can’t keep up,” I gasped.
Pete sighed, quickly and quietly. He called out to the guys ahead: “Just keep going! We’ll . . . be all right.”
My stomach sank as their footsteps got farther away. I tried to work back into a slow jog.
“I gave one of those jerks extra pizza, you know.”
“Just keep moving, Jackie. Follow me.”
We started up a nearby stairwell to the second floor.
“Where are we going?” I whispered. “I thought we were going to the wrestling room.”
“We were going to the wrestling room,” Pete said. “You stopped running. Now I want to find the closest open classroom or broom closet or something and hole up in it. It’s not safe out here.”
“You know something I don’t, Pete?”
“If you don’t keep it down, you’re gonna attract unwanted attention.”
“Fine!” I hissed. “But you better know that I take that as a yes.”
15
We did find a broom closet at the top of the stairs. I knocked over a couple of spray bottles on the way in, but no one seemed to be wandering the second-floor hallway. Nobody came pounding at the closet door, anyway.
“Sooo,” I started. “Now we wait?”
“Yep,” Pete replied. “We wait.”
I got Pete to reveal the bit he knew that I didn’t. He said a couple cross-country guys had a bad run-in with some lacrosse types. Like the team was looking to get payback for Blake from anybody close enough to blame. I guess he hadn’t wanted to make me more worried than I was already.
“Are we going to be Bridgewater High’s two remaining students tomorrow morning?” I asked.
“We’re going to be fine. This can’t last forever, whatever it is. Where are your wolf-friends, by the way?”
“No idea.” I slapped my cheek. “Oh god. But Pete, when Macy and I were walking the halls earlier—”
Pete stopped me. “Wait. Jack, do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Listen. That sort of . . . thumping.”
We both stayed quiet for a minute.
“Pete. That sounds like a . . . bass line.”
“Weird.”
We were quiet again for a sec.
“Weird?” I asked. “That’s all? It can’t be bad, can it? Someone, somebody nearby is playing music.”
“We’re staying here,” he said.
“We have to check this out.”
“We’re staying here.”
“This could mean the worst is over!” I said. “You enjoy the mops. I’m checking it out.”
I followed the sound a few doors down the hallway. Pete followed behind me, watching both our backs. We stopped outside the art room.
“It’s coming from here,” I said.
I slid the door open a crack and peered inside. I have no idea how long I looked for. But afterward, I gently closed the door and frowned.
“Well, what?” Pete asked. �
�What did you see?”
“I hate this night. Just when I thought it couldn’t get weirder.”
Inside the art room, kids were playing music from the speakers of a laptop. A couple pounded on the lids of sealed paint cans. Others danced on top of tables. Mira Patel, one of the few I recognized, held a large flashlight. She kept flicking it on and off like it was a strobe. During the bursts of light, I could see that paint had been splashed throughout the room. Maybe by the canful. A few kids had smeared it over their clothes and faces.
“Jackie, what is going on in there?”
“I’m not sure. I think it might be art.”
Pete nudged me away from the door and took a look. The kids either continued not to notice us or they didn’t care.
“I have no idea what I’m looking at,” he said.
I shrugged.
Pete pointed to Mira. “You know her, right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Mira Patel. You want me to talk to her?”
“I . . . think so? I guess they’re not fighting each other. It looks roomier than the broom closet.”
I approached Mira at the center of the room, weaving through dancing kids. Pete stayed as close to the door as possible.
“Mira!”
She looked at me blankly.
“We were just passing through, and we wondered if maybe—”
She motioned for me to stop talking.
“I’ll ask,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Mira walked over to two kids who were at the laptop, probably working on the playlist. I couldn’t hear what they were saying over the music, and I could barely make out their gestures as long as Mira pointed her flashlight at the ground.
Mira moved back toward me and held the flashlight up to her face. She wore a look of disappointment. Or pity.
“Jackie. I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“You have to go.”
“Excuse me?”
“You can’t stay here, Jackie. I did what I could. You’re—,” she took a deep breath. “You’re just not cool enough.”
I wasn’t sure how to reply. Mira pointed the flashlight toward me, holding it out.
“Here,” she said. “Take this.”
“Um, thanks?”
I trotted over to Pete, flashlight in hand. We headed out into the hall, back toward our broom closet.
16
Back among the cleaning supplies, I was getting bored fast. Pete and I stood in silence. My body felt limp. My muscles still ached from all the running. Pete kept falling asleep and then waking back up once his chin dropped near to his chest.
After a while, a harsh clang shook him awake completely. The clangs traveled our way from the other end of the hall. Something beating on lockers. Soon they sounded only steps away.
“Hey Todd—I think it’s clear, man.”
“You wanna move one floor down?”
I recognized the voices. The lacrosse players from my math class. Todd Fry had to be with them.
“Yeah,” Todd replied. “Yeah, let’s go.”
I tried standing extra still. I didn’t even want to know whether or not they’d crashed the art kids’ party.
“We really sent those weirdoes scrambling, right Todd?” asked one of the guys who was not Todd.
I gulped.
“Man, I think I got paint on my shoes,” said the other guy who was not Todd.
“Who cares, man?”
“These are new shoes! T.I. wears these shoes. You don’t like these shoes?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t—”
Another clang against a nearby locker.
“Shut up, guys,” Todd spat. He paused. “You wanna clean your shoes? There’s gotta be something in there.”
I squeezed my flashlight tight and hoped that hadn’t meant what I thought it meant. The door to the closet clicked open. The guy who opened the door immediately grabbed onto my wrist and yanked me out. Pete tried to pull me away, and the other two got on him. He wriggled around trying to get free, but Todd and his buddy each held tight to one of Pete’s arms. It took them a second to recognize us in the dark.
“We ran across some of your boys earlier, Pete,” Todd said. “They didn’t make out so good.”
“Let her go!” Pete shouted.
“Don’t do it,” Todd said to the dude holding me. He turned to the other guy holding Pete. “You got a grip on him? I’m gonna grab my stick.”
“Yeah,” the guy replied. He put Pete in something like a bear hug. Todd picked up a lacrosse stick a few feet away.
“This isn’t personal, Pete,” Todd started. “I’ve seen you race. It’s good stuff. But we’ve gotta show people that no one messes with Bridgewater High Lacrosse. When we’re unhappy, everybody’s unhappy.”
Todd lifted up his stick and twirled it around a few times. He steadied his feet and raised it behind his head. I thought I heard a faint click-click-ing far down the hall.
“You’re a jerk!” I shouted. He paused in surprise. I kept at it: “You don’t have any right to do this! Not because Blake got beat up. Not because everyone goes to football games but no one goes to yours. You’re just a jerk!”
“You’re next,” Todd muttered.
But I had stalled for long enough. A black mass, like from before, took Todd off his feet. His lacrosse stick went skittering across the floor. Todd’s friend loosened his grip on me. I hit him in the knee with my flashlight just in case and ran over to Pete.
“Jackie!”
I turned my head. “Francis?”
Francis jogged up. Gwen and Mike were with him. I clicked on my light.
“Francis, where’ve you been?”
Todd collided with a wall of lockers. The thing had thrown him, hard. I shined the light on Francis. He did not look happy to see me.
“Jackie,” he whispered. “Pete. Get out of here.”
Todd smacked back up against the lockers. I turned the light toward the noise, but Francis covered it with his hand.
“Go!”
With everything that had happened so far, I decided to take him at his word. I tugged at Pete’s shirt and took a step toward the stairway. But the dark mass stepped into my path. I flashed my light upward.
The thing looked back at me with cold eyes, red like rubies. The shape of its face was human, but black fur lined its cheeks, chin and forehead. The bridge of its nose bulged forward—a snout. Black bangs hung down over its brow.
Connor?
I tried to move underneath its outstretched arms. He caught me by the throat with a strong, hairy hand.
“No,” he snarled. “You too.”
17
“No one’s going anywhere.” Connor’s wolflike nostrils flared. The lacrosse guys that came along with Todd lined up against the wall without Connor asking. I dropped my flashlight, and it rolled across the floor. I couldn’t see anything of Francis, his friends or my brother in the darkness.
“Francis,” I heard Pete say, “What is this?”
Gwen and Mike snickered.
“We’re everything we said we were,” Connor growled. “We’re wolves.”
Gwen and Mike stepped across the flashlight’s beam toward Connor. As they moved, their shadows seemed to grow larger. They were changing too.
“Why are you . . . ?” I wheezed.
“Blake had to pay,” Gwen said, her voice lower, scratchier.
“After that, it’s just the thrill of the hunt,” Mike added.
“But you can fix this!” Pete pleaded. “All the fighting—you can get everybody back to normal!”
Connor laughed. It sounded like a lawnmower starting. “You don’t get it. The rest of this, the fighting—that’s not me. All it took was a few whiffs of danger for everyone to go running to their packs. I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to. It’s like I told that dumb reporter: we’ve all got an animal inside of us.” He laughed again. “I’m just better than most people at bringing it out.”
One of the
lacrosse guys spoke up. “We had no idea about the car thing, man. No idea.” Gwen barked and he shut up.
Connor turned back toward me. The claws at the ends of his fingers dug into my shoulders. “This is pretty perfect timing, actually.”
“Francis!” he snarled. “You been having fun tonight?”
Francis didn’t reply. How much had he known?
Connor continued: “I think it’s time you took the next step. I mean it’s about time, right? A pretty perfect way to show your loyalty.”
Francis’s voice sounded weak. “Jackie,” he said. “I didn’t know—”
“Come on, Francis,” Connor said. “I told you tonight was gonna be big for us. I’m sure you suspected something.”
Gwen laughed. “What did you think happened to all those chickens?”
“Tonight’s the night you turn, Francis,” Connor said. “It’s not so bad. Gwen and Mike will tell you—not bad at all.”
“All it takes is one little bite,” Gwen added.
I started to shake. A perfect way to show your loyalty. Starting life as werewolf by taking chunks out of me and Pete.
Francis stammered, barely getting his words out. The werewolf thing really had been a surprise for him too. Maybe cool to see at first. But he sounded as scared of changing as I was of the animal in front of me.
“I’m not . . . I can’t.”
Gwen and Mike stood between Pete and the lacrosse twins, keeping guard. Francis was on the outside of our cluster of people. He had the open hallway to his back. In my head, I urged him to run. But he just froze.
One the opposite side of the cluster, a lump of Todd Fry shifted in the faint light from a window at the top of the stairs. Todd grabbed hold of the stairway’s bottom rail.
“Connor,” I blurted, “Looks like your prize chicken’s getting away.”
He snarled and let go of me. “Watch her!” he shouted, and took his first leap toward Todd. A wave of light zigzagged along some lockers. Francis had picked up the flashlight. He hurled it a few steps in front of Connor. As Connor bounded toward Todd, he slipped on the flashlight’s round handle. I heard the head of the light shatter and everything went dark again. Click-click-clicks rang against the floor as Connor tried to get his footing back before crashing into the stairway rail. He let loose an angry howl.
Lock-In (Night Fall ™) Page 3