CHAPTER 9: THE GREAT ESCAPE
1289 Words
Jordan thought detention was bad.
She thought cafeteria food fights were bad.
But nothing—absolutely nothing—prepared her for what Ethan called “a harmless after-school adventure.”
The Setup
It started in the hallway right after detention. Jordan was stuffing books into her bag, desperate to get home before her mom asked why she was late again. Ethan leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, like he’d been waiting for her.
“You free?” he asked casually.
“No,” Jordan said automatically.
“You didn’t even check your schedule.”
Jordan sighed. “Ethan, I want to go home, eat chips, and forget this stupid day ever happened.”
“Chips,” Ethan repeated. “Perfect. Motivation.” He pushed off the locker and gestured toward the stairwell. “Come on. I need your help.”
Jordan narrowed her eyes. “With what? Another one of your… ‘games’?”
Ethan smirked. “Exactly.”
Jordan groaned. “Hard pass.”
But Ethan didn’t stop walking. He tossed over his shoulder: “It involves sneaking, possible danger, and maybe—just maybe—figuring out why this school is different.”
That word—different—caught Jordan like a hook. Ever since she transferred, Crestwood had felt off. The strange symbols in the library. The power outages during assemblies. Principal Graves whispering into his walkie-talkie like he was part of the CIA. And now, that creepy carving on Ethan’s detention desk: Welcome to the Game.
“Jordan Rivers,” Ethan said, his voice dripping with mock drama. “Do you really want to live your life wondering? Or do you want answers?”
Jordan hesitated. She knew it was a terrible idea. She knew she should walk away. But her curiosity—and maybe the dangerous sparkle in Ethan’s eyes—pulled her in.
“…Fine,” she muttered. “But if we get expelled, I’m blaming you.”
Ethan grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The Plan
They ducked into the stairwell. Ethan pulled something from his hoodie pocket: a folded map of the school. Except it wasn’t the normal fire drill map. This one had hand-drawn notes scrawled all over it.
Jordan blinked. “Did you seriously make your own blueprints of Crestwood?”
Ethan shrugged. “Made? No. Found? Yes.”
“Where?”
“Library archives. Don’t ask.”
The map showed tunnels beneath the school—maintenance shafts, storage rooms, even an “off-limits” basement wing no one talked about. One corridor had been circled in red ink: West Wing – Restricted Access.
Jordan frowned. “This is insane. Why would a high school need hidden tunnels?”
“Good question,” Ethan said with a grin. “Let’s find out.”
The Break-In
The West Wing was practically abandoned. Most students avoided it because of the flickering lights and the rumor that a kid once disappeared there during a pep rally. The floor tiles were cracked, lockers dented, and the air smelled faintly of bleach and rust.
Jordan hugged her backpack close. “This feels like a horror movie.”
Ethan whispered, “Shhh. You’ll scare away the ghosts.”
“Not funny.”
They reached a heavy steel door at the end of the hallway. A bold sign read:
“RESTRICTED AREA – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.”
Jordan folded her arms. “Well, we’re done. No way we’re getting past that.”
Ethan smirked, reaching into his pocket again. He pulled out… a paperclip.
Jordan blinked. “…Please tell me you don’t actually know how to pick locks.”
“Don’t doubt the classics,” Ethan said, kneeling by the door.
Jordan rubbed her forehead. “You are unbelievable.”
A few twists, a click, and the door creaked open. Ethan stood, bowing dramatically. “Ladies first.”
Jordan glared but stepped inside.
The Basement
The stairwell beyond was dark, lit only by a buzzing emergency light. The walls were lined with old pipes, dripping occasionally into puddles on the concrete floor. Their footsteps echoed as they descended.
Jordan whispered, “Ethan… if we get murdered, I’m haunting you.”
“Deal,” Ethan whispered back.
At the bottom, they found a long corridor with numbered doors. Most were locked, but one stood ajar. Inside was a dusty storage room filled with broken desks, unused textbooks, and boxes marked with strange labels:
“Experiment Logs.”
“Game Trials – Phase 1.”
“Subject Records.”
Jordan froze. “What… the heck?”
Ethan carefully pulled one box open. Inside were old yearbooks—but with strange notes scribbled in the margins. Next to certain students’ photos, words like “Player Eliminated” and “Level Complete” were written in red ink.
Jordan’s stomach turned. “This isn’t funny anymore.”
Ethan’s grin faltered for the first time. He flipped through more pages. Same thing—students marked, some crossed out entirely.
Jordan whispered, “Ethan, what if this school… isn’t just a school?”
Before Ethan could answer, footsteps echoed in the hallway. Heavy, deliberate footsteps.
Jordan’s heart raced. “Someone’s coming.”
Ethan quickly shoved the yearbook back and grabbed her hand. “Run.”
The Chase
They sprinted down the corridor, footsteps pounding behind them. Whoever it was had a flashlight, its beam sweeping across the walls. Jordan’s lungs burned as they rounded corners, searching for an exit.
“There!” Ethan pointed to a door with a faded exit sign. They shoved it open, rushing into another passage—this one narrower, filled with pipes hissing steam.
The flashlight beam cut through the mist behind them. A voice barked, “Stop! You’re not authorized here!”
Jordan panicked. “We’re going to die, Ethan!”
“Correction—we’re going to escape dramatically,” Ethan said, tugging her forward.
They burst through another door—only to find themselves in the boiler room. The heat was suffocating, machines roaring like beasts.
Jordan shouted over the noise, “Now what?!”
Ethan scanned quickly. “There—maintenance ladder!”
They scrambled up, the footsteps still chasing. Jordan climbed faster than she ever had in gym class, heart pounding. They shoved open the hatch at the top—and emerged in… the janitor’s closet.
Jordan tumbled out, gasping. “We… actually… made it.”
Ethan dropped beside her, grinning like a maniac. “Told you. Great escape.”
Jordan smacked his arm. “That wasn’t great—it was terrifying!”
But even as she scolded him, her mind replayed what they’d seen: the yearbooks, the boxes, the words Game Trials.
Something was wrong with Crestwood. Very, very wrong.
The Aftermath
They slipped out of the closet into the empty hallway. The school was eerily quiet, the sunset casting long shadows through the windows.
Jordan turned to Ethan, voice trembling. “We need to tell someone. The police. My mom. Anybody.”
Ethan’s grin faded into something more serious. “And say what? ‘Hi, we found creepy boxes under the school that prove our teachers are running a secret game where students disappear’? You think they’ll believe us?”
Jordan bit her lip. He had a point.
“Then what do we do?” she whispered.
Ethan’s eyes glinted. “We play.”
Jordan froze. “Excuse me?”
Ethan’s voice dropped lower. “Whatever this game is, it’s already happening. And if we don’t figure out the rules… we’ll lose.”
A chill ran down Jordan’s spine.
She didn’t know what scared her more: the fact that Ethan was right—or the fact that, for the first time, he wasn’t smiling when he said it.
- Writer
