Chapter 3

"What's the big deal, Jake?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even. My heart was starting to pound. This felt dangerous.

"The big deal," Brittany said, stepping forward, her eyes narrowed, "is that you always think you're better than us. You're going to go home and then what? Post some passive-aggressive crap online about how everyone else is irresponsible?"

"I have no intention of posting anything," I said. My backpack felt heavy on my shoulder. It contained everything I needed for tomorrow: my SAT admission ticket, my driver's license for ID, my phone, my house keys.

"I don't believe you," Jake said. He looked at Brittany, then back at me. A flicker of something – doubt? – crossed his face, but Brittany's possessive squeeze on his arm erased it.

"She's a snake, Jakey," Brittany cooed. "Remember that time she called the English teacher over spring break about extra homework? Ruined everyone's vacation."

A murmur of agreement from the onlookers. That was a state-level practice test, crucial for prep. I'd made sure everyone got it.

"I'm going home," I said, my voice firm. I tried to push past him.

He grabbed my backpack strap. "No, you're not."

"Let go of my bag, Jake."

"Not until you promise to come to the party. Or at least promise not to tell anyone."

"This is ridiculous." I pulled, but he held fast.

Then, with a sudden, violent tug, he yanked the backpack off my shoulder. The contents spilled onto the hallway floor – my calculator, pens, a water bottle, and crucially, the clear plastic bag with my SAT ticket and ID.

"Hey!" I lunged for it.

Brittany was faster. She scooped up the plastic bag. "What's this? Oh, your ticket to a bright future?" She dangled it in front of me.

"Give it back, Brittany." My voice trembled with suppressed fury.

"Make us," she taunted.

Jake grabbed my arms from behind, pinning them. His strength was overwhelming.

"What are you doing?" I struggled, but it was useless.

"Just a little insurance," Brittany said, her smile venomous. She pocketed my ID and ticket. "You'll get these back... after the party. If you behave."

Then, to my horror, Jake started dragging me down the hall, away from the dispersing crowd, towards the gym.

"Where are you taking me?" Panic clawed at my throat.

"Somewhere you can cool off and think about your attitude," Jake grunted, his face set in a grim mask.

Brittany followed, humming.

He pulled me into the dark, cavernous gym, then towards a narrow door: the athletics equipment storage. It smelled of sweat and old leather.

He shoved me inside. It was small, windowless, filled with deflated basketballs and dusty mats.

"Jake, don't do this!"

He ignored me. Brittany appeared at the door, holding my phone, which must have fallen out too.

"And this," she said, waving it. "No calls for help." She tossed it to Jake. He glanced at it, then at me.

For a second, I saw a flicker of the old Jake, the boy next door. Then it was gone.

"You'll be fine. We'll let you out after the party starts," he said, his voice rough.

The heavy door slammed shut. I heard the sickening thud of a bolt sliding into place.

Darkness. Silence.

I was locked in. My SATs were tomorrow morning. And they had my ticket, my ID, and my phone.