*TO THE RIGHT IS THE ACTOR WHO WOULD PLAY FINNEGAN WATT*

Ebony gasped as the lights went out. She’d been sitting in the toilet doorway, leaning against the locked grate, for 32 minutes by her watch. Now the lights were out, there were no windows in the bathroom and it was getting cold.

“Just my luck,” she muttered.

Her mother was going to kill her. She’d long since missed the bus and Andie, her brother, would have had to catch it by himself. She was so far past dead it wasn’t funny.

Her bag was on the ground beside the racks and she’d tried on more than one occasion to grab it. It had her school jumper and a torch in it, among other things. No mobile, though. Her mum wouldn’t let her get one, not when Andie needed new soccer boots. Andie was going to be a professional one day. Hopefully one day soon, Ebony thought as she rolled onto her stomach again.

Slipping her arm through the grate, she stretched for her bag. The metal bars hurt her shoulder as she tried to force her arm further out. Her finger tips brushed her canvas bag just as something connected with the back of her elbow, slamming her upper-arm into the grate. Someone cursed and Ebony heard a thump as a shadowy form hit the tiles, smashing her arm. Ebony screamed.

Austin’s face rolled into view, “Ow,” he said, annoyed.

Phitz spoke from somewhere in the darkness, “Auz, that wasn’t you that screamed, was it? Cause…I don’t think I could handle that.”

With a click, a dull light was shone on the siuation. Ebony looked up at Phitz holding his phone, the screen illuminating a metre radius, and then at Austin lying on the ground.

“So,” he said “Come her often?”

Ebony grunted, “You’re lying on my arm.”

“Woops,” Austin leapt to his feet, dusting of his red palms as Ebony drew her arm back into the toilets, grimacing all the way. Sitting up, she nursed it in her lap.

“Why were you lying on the ground,” Austin asked as Phitz shone his phone on the sign, “In the ladies room.”

“Why were you lying on the ground outside the ladies room?” ebony asked, clambering to her feet. Her elbow was aching and the flesh around her sleeve was tender.

Austin threw his hands in the air, “you tripped me.”

Ebony only scowled at him and Phitz laughed, “You really liven up after school, don’t you?”

Ebony turned her gaze to him and he joined Austin in a surrender, arms raised, “At no point was I lying on the ground anywhere near a ladies room.”

“I got locked in,” Ebony tried to cross her arms but found her elbow wouldn’t bend.

“Phitz needs to take a look at that,” Austin said, explaining when he saw her frown, “Family of doctors. Even he picked up some things.”

Phitz smacked him across the back of the head, but nodded anyway, “he’s right, though. Hitting him was just because I like to be superior; even if it is only morally.”

“And I’m just going to walk out of here?”

Phitz and Ebony both looked to Austin.

“What? I have to be the obvious-fact-pointer-outer-er and the idea-comer-upper-with-er?”

“With names like that, who needs a plan,” Ebony muttered.

Austin didn’t here her. He picked up the padlock, tugging it and the chain gently. It rattled and Phitz looked around.

“Spooky,” he whispered.

Austin just glared at the padlock. Sliding his fingers through the loop, he pulled. His face went red but the lock gave with a crack. Austin leant against the archway as, wide eyed, Ebony stared at him.

“How’d you do that?” she asked.

Breathing heavily, Austin shrugged, “It must be rusted internally. I didn’t think that would actually work.”

As she untwined the chain, Ebony said, “Then why’d you try?”

Austin gave a goofy smile, “I figured if it did work I’d impress you with my muscles.”

Ebony rolled her eyes but looked down to hide her blush. She pulled the chain all the way through the grate and pressed gently. The door opened.

“You’d impress me more,” she said, “if you got out of the way of the door.”

Smirking, Austin did just that. Ebony scuttled out, grabbing her bag with her left arm. She swung it up to the bag racks and rummaged through until she found her jumper, her torch and a muesli bar. She turned the little green torch on and Phits grabbed it from her, passing it to Austin.

“He can hold it at the right angle,” Phitz explained. Looking at her arm, Phitz fingered the bruising, bending her elbow gently.

Austin angled the torch obediently, “why do you have a torch in your school bag?”

Ebony ignored him, protesting to Phitz instead, “Do you know what you’re doing?”

Phitz glared at her, “Answer the question.”

With a sigh, Ebony turned back to Austin, “I also have a change of clothes, non-perishables, a water-canteen, money and a mini first-aid kit.”

Phitz looked up at that and began rummaging in her bag. Austin shook his head slowly.

“Why?”

Ebony gave a soft smile, “This isn’t a new experience for me.”

“You get trapped in Ladies rooms often, do you?”

“No,” Ebony said indignantly, “I just get forgotten a lot.”

Finnegan waited in darkness. Though his scribbles were only scribbles he didn’t want to risk scribbling over them. Mr Irving had been gone for 5 minutes trying to fix the generator, and Ms Smith was waiting patiently. Carissa on the other hand…

“This is exactly like one of those horror movies where everybody is all alone and then BAM a chainsaw wielding lunatic enters and…”

“Carissa…” Ms Smith tried to interrupt.

“…chops them all to pieces but saves the beautiful, chirpy, popular one for last.”

Finnegan laughed, “Thanks for mentioning me in your movie.”

Carissa scowled at him, “Shut up, punch-bag.”

“Carissa,” Ms Smith said again, “There will be no lunatics wandering around this school anytime soon. Finnegan, please draw back the blinds.”

“Miss,” Finnegan chewed the inside of his cheek, “You’re not supposed to leave the blinds open after school.”

“We’ll draw them again before we leave.”

Shrugging, Finnegan did as he was told. The Venetian blinds had a twirly gadget at one end which Finnegan twisted to turn the blades from vertical to horizontal. The blinds let in a stream of light. All three blinked, and Finnegan raised a hand to his eyes.

With a disgruntled sigh, Carissa muttered, “Now we’ll see the maniac coming.”

Ms Smith sent her an incredulous look but opened her book without comment. Moving to the pullery-rope that drew the blinds up, Finnegan squinted through the gaps. His fingers froze.

“Ms Smith?” He called, brow furrowed.

“Uh huh?” Ms Smith was hunched over her book, her eyes chasing words hungrily.

“You know what you said about  lunatics, Ms Smith?” Carissa’s head jerked up, “Well, you may want to reconsider.”

Carissa joined him at the window, leaning against the bench beneath.

“Oh. My. God,” She breathed.

Ms Smith looked up, “What’s out there?”

Finnegan replied, “About six cars with tinted windows…”

“And about twelve guys in suits,” Carissa interrupted.

Ms Smith laughed, “Its probably parent-teacher interviews.”

Both teens turned to look at her.

“Yeah, sure,” Finnegan said, and eyebrow raised, “Parent teacher interviews with no teachers or parents.”

“Sometimes,” Ms Smith said, shutting her book, “Children have circumstances that need to be addressed by…”

“Scary officials in suits with the power off?” Finnegan asked.

Before Ms Smith could continue, Carissa said, “Stop spouting text-book at us, Ms Smith. We get that all day everyday. Now get over here and take a look.”

Sighing, the young teacher rose, walking to the window and squinting through the blinds. Her brow furrowed as she saw what they had described.

“Well, perhaps…”

“Stop it,” Carissa screeched, “Sometimes you can’t explain your way out of something. You just have to deal with the weirdness and the uncertainty and bubbles…”

Finnegan and Ms Smith exchanged a look as she trailed off, staring at the floor. Turning back to the window, Finnegan saw one man looking right at them. With wide eyes and a flick of his wrist, Finnegan twirled the gadget and immersed them in darkness once more.