Page 15 of Escape

I stared into the mirror, my eyes growing dry as I tried not to blink. But the reflection in front of me changed. Pictures of a younger me flashed on the reflective surface. Me as a high schooler, dressed in baggy clothes, heavy makeup and fried-straight hair. I winced as a slideshow of my most insecure years played.

Then, all around me, the very reason for those insecurities echoed.

“Hopefully a flowy one with those hips you've got.” My mother’s voice surrounded me. “You can’t have a single roll or wrinkle! Everyone will be assessing every inch of you!”

It replayed over and over. Getting louder as the pictures continued to flash. As I fought the urge to look away or plug my ears, my skin heated. My chest heaved with panicked breaths.

I glared up at the clock…how the fuck had it only been 1 minute? I clenched my fists at my sides, feeling the failure rise within me. Maybe if I just ducked, I wouldn’t be hit?

With thirty seconds left, I was fighting with all my strength to block it out. I almost made it. Almost. Until the most judgemental voice of all rang through the locker room. I didn’t know how the masked stranger had captured it, but it was my last straw.

“You look fast with all that shit on your face.”

“Your brothers can eat more because they’re men. They play sports. They move their bodies, unlike you.”

“Don’t be greedy, Jasmine. Do you see your mother with that big of a helping?”

Something inside me snapped. I threw my hands over my head and let my knees buckle under me. Almost immediately, the thundering sound of six guns going off pierced my eardrums. I screamed as one of them bounced off a locker and stabbed into my shoulder blade.

When I hit the floor, I scrambled against the locker, clawing at my skin where it stung. I brought my fingertips to my face, amazed that they came away clean. No blood coating them.

“What the-”

I looked around, my eye catching the bullet lying on the ground. I picked it up, surprised at the rubbery texture. I dropped it, reaching for my back again and feeling around. The skin was raised and hot, but not broken.

The room went quiet. The pictures stopped flashing across the mirror. All the lockers around me swung closed except for the one I unlocked.

“What a shame…” The smooth voice said over the intercom. “We’ll work on it. You’ll find your next clue inside the locker.”

I scrambled over to my dress, pulling it up to my chest as I pushed myself up onto the bench behind me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to demand the masked psycho show themselves and answer for shooting me.

I dropped my head into my hands, trying to focus on my rapid breaths. I’d really been fucking shot. Even if it was just a rubber bullet and wouldn’t cause any lasting damage, it made me realize just how real these games were. My life was really in danger.

“I’ll see you soon, Jasmine. Good luck.”

Chapter 14

Jasmine

With my dress back on and my body calmed enough to function, I peeked inside the locker. Under the gun contraption, I found a large, leatherbound book with Maple Meadow High School 2011-2012 printed on the front in metallic, red letters. I grabbed it, running my fingers over the lightly textured cover and remembered the yearbook page I found in one of the locked boxes.

I dug through the backpack, pulling out the ripped page from earlier. I flipped to the very back, where the blank signature pages were. There was another key that matched the first one. I guessed it opened another box. I carefully ripped it off and stored it in one of the small pockets of the backpack before returning to the pages.

I took the ripped page and lined it up with the book. The jagged edges of the page with Ariana’s message matched perfectly with the torn edges. I placed the page back in its place and flipped through the book to see if I could figure out who Ariana wanted to call her over that summer.

When I reached the inside cover, the name written in the bottom left corner slammed into the careful wall I’d built around my heart and memories, bursting it wide open.

Mykela Jacobs.

Kel.

My Kel.

I slammed the yearbook down on the bench as the room started spinning. Memories of her were set loose. I tried to pull them back in, but it was no use. Images of her helping me through algebra class, our kiss in the locker room showers, sneaking out my window to go meet her at the park at 1 am, the way we ended…all of it played on a messy, glitching loop. Tiny fragments, all out of order, scattered like broken pieces. I’d pushed them down so far that I could barely make sense of them anymore.

Through the memories, a realization pushed through. Ariana hated Kel. She bullied her to no end. Called her weird and ugly. She teased her and told everybody that she must be a lesbian and they shouldn’t change in front of her, all because of her more masculine features. I’d always thought they were so beautiful, but Ariana was ruthless. So why would she sign Kel’s yearbook and ask her to call her?

Catching my breath and stuffing the memories down just enough to focus, I flipped back to the cover of the yearbook. I ran my fingers over the 2011-2012 printed in the corner. It was from our junior year, which made the whole thing make even less sense.