I’ll call your cell when it’s safe.
Patti’s eyes looked up and down from the road to the note that I held low between us. Her knuckles whitened and she gave a tiny frantic shake of her head. Great. She was going to be difficult.
I’ll run to the ball fields!
There should be weekend games today, all sports, and lots of people. I could try to blend in and lose them. Oh—but what if they went after Patti instead of me? One way or another, this was not good. I shoved the paper in my pocket. Patti’s face was pale and shiny from sweat. She gave a small nod of agreement. Now we needed to act normal. I hoped Patti would play along.
“Thanks for taking me today,” I said. “I think I’m finally ready for school.”
“No problem, honey. You sure you don’t need another bra, though?”
I cringed and she made an apologetic face.
“Nope, I’m good,” I forced out.
I glanced at the side mirror. They were four cars behind us. I pushed out my hearing to them, but found only silence in their car.
We were coming up on the blind curve by the elementary school. They wouldn’t be able to see us for about ten seconds while we rounded the slow bend. Next to the school was a patch of forest, and on the other side of those woods were soccer, baseball, and general playing fields. If I could just get there, I would have a chance.
My heart pounded as we started the turn. Patti gave my arm a squeeze. I opened the door and jumped out, closing it as quietly as I could.
I took off at a dead sprint, running faster than I ever had.
I wasn’t stupid enough to think they wouldn’t hear the car door close, or my footfalls as I ran. I just hoped I’d be fast enough to get somewhere I could hide. I could see the forest at the edge of the school now.
I zipped past the side of the building and ran into the mesh of trees. Branches stung my face, but I never slowed. Voices came from the nearby fields now. Almost there. Exhilaration flooded my senses as I flew through the woods.
I suddenly heard something coming up behind me, even louder than the voices ahead of me from the fields. It was the slamming of feet in the brush. Someone else was running. Fast.
“Stop!” It was a male’s voice, strained from the effort. I pushed my legs to pump even faster, until my muscles were burning, but I knew it wasn’t fast enough. I was a long-distance endurance runner. This guy behind me was a sprinter. And a defensive linebacker, it would seem, as he tackled me to the ground in one easy swipe, nearly knocking the wind out of me. I got a faceful of leaf debris and dirt.
Struggling from his grip, I rolled and flailed so he couldn’t get a good hold. One of his giant arms was hooked around my hips, and he was reaching for my free arm, but I swung it sideways and busted his nose so hard I cried out from the throb of pain in my hand. The guy grunted and gave his head one hard shake, blood slinging into the dirt; then he was on top of me, using every bit of his mass to hold me down. He grabbed both of my wrists and pinned them to the ground next to my head. I panted, gasping for air.
“Be still. You are safe.” His voice had a soft accent I couldn’t place.
I looked at him. His nose had already stopped bleeding. His skin was dark like coffee, and his black waves of hair were cut short. He had the lightest hazel eyes I’d ever seen, and as he stared down at me I got a whiff of something cooking at the ball field concession stands: the buttery richness of hot, simmering caramel.... Wait. Was that his scent? I swallowed and pressed my head back against the dirt, trying not to breathe hard so my chest would stop pressing up against his.
Another pair of feet jogged up to us now.
“Kope!” the other guy yelled. “What the frick?! You got some cheetah blood in you or what?”
At the sound of his friend’s voice, the guy on top of me lifted some of his weight.
“I will let you up now.” His voice was quiet next to my ear. “Do not run.”
The other guy put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He had black hair that was bleached at the tips, and when he brushed it from his forehead, it slicked back with sweat. He was at least part Asian, with dark, almond-shaped eyes and high, pronounced cheekbones. I exhaled and closed my eyes, realizing who they were. Blake and Kopano. My relief was followed by sheer humiliation for making them chase me.
“Seriously!” insisted Blake. “How did you run so fast?”
“I am African.” Without taking his eyes from mine, Kopano eased himself off me, and I sat up.
“Oh, ha, ha. A comedian,” Blake said.
Kopano felt his nose as he squatted next to me.
“You’re Kaidan’s friends,” I stated, feeling like a fool.
“Something like that,” Blake said. “He’s not exactly Mr. Friendly.” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed, putting it to his ear.