Salena was three strides from freedom when the lights cut out. She froze mid step, blinking in the dim light, and checked her watch; 3:45. Plenty of time to get home before her step-dad freaked. She walked to the door, twisted the handle heavily. It didn’t move. With a frown Salena gripped it with both hands, digging her heels into the floor in a vain effort to try and open the door.

With a puff of air, Salena muttered, “it must have an electrical lock or something.”

Glaring at the door Salena marched back down the corridor until she found the emergency exit. Wincing encase an alarm went off, Salena pressed on the dorr which mercifully, opened. With a sigh, Salena pushed it further open, preparing to slip out when the door collided with something. The force jarred er fingers, but Salena didn’t care. Pressing her shoulder to the door, she tried to put whatever was blocking it out of the way.

When it didn’t budge, Salena screeched, “This is why it says DO NOT OBSTRUCT!”

“Hello?”

Salena screamed before she could help herself. Mr Irving appeared in the half-light of the green EXIT sign,  his hands raised in surrender.

“Wow” he said as she quietened, “Just me Salena.”

Wide eyed, the girl muttered her apology.

“What are you doing here this late?” Mr Irving asked, crossing his arms and cocking his head.

Salena only hesitated for a moment, “Ms Smith keeps the library open for me for an extra half hour on Wednesdays so that I can study.”

M Irving nodded, “And you’re trying to go home now?”

“Yes sir, but the front door doesn’t open and the emergency exit…” Salena pressed the door into whatever was blocking it, creating a loud crash, “…is blocked.”

“OK, well,” Mr Irving pressed his lips into a thin line as he pondered that, “I’m trying to fix the generator and then I’m heading back to detention. You can walk through the school to the back door, which I wouldn’t recommend in the dark, or you can wait five minutes and I’ll let you out through the staff room door.”

Mr Irving paused, apparently awaiting her decision.

Salena juggling times in her head, “I’ll wait for you if you don’t mind sir.”

Mr Irving gave a warm smile, ‘Not at all Salena. Now, could you helo me find the back-up generator.”

With a pained expression, Salena began to recalculate times.

The detention room was quiet, and Finnegan glanced around. Carissa was glaring at the ground, apparently muttering to herself. Finn had always thought that girl was on the verge of madness, but he really didn’t want this to be the moment she snapped. Ms Smith on the other hand was sitting with her mouth open, staring at the closed blinds with an expression of disbelief. Every now and again she’d raise a hand as if to open them, but end up tucking her hair behind her ear or rubbing her eyes. Finnegan looked to the ceiling; women!

Finn flattened himself to the wall, spreading two blades the tiniest fraction so that her could squint through. The men were moving around, the cars deserted. They had thick black sunglasses on and earpieces in, and every few seconds they’d adjust one or the other. One man, only identifiable by blonde hair, strode behind a car. Grumbling, Finnegan slide across the window, squinting into the afternoon. The man reached into the boot, pulling out a metal briefcase. As he leaned forward, his jacket drew up, revealing what was fastened to his belt.

“Holy…” Finnegan bit his tongue and glanced at Ms Smith who had stiffened. She raised an eyebrow.

“What is it Finnegan?”

“This is going to be hard to believe…” he tried to continue but Carissa interrupted.

“This? As opposed to all the other believable stuff that jut happened?”

Scowling, Finnegan tried again, “…but I think our situation just got a whole lot more serious.”

Carissa laughed, “of course it did.”

“How, Finnegan?” Ms Smith spoke quietly.

“Did the parents bring late slips?” Carissa clapped her hands to her cheeks, filled with mock surprise.

“Carissa!” Ms Smith snapped.

The teen-queen scowled at her teacher, kicking her feet onto the desk infront of her. Rolling her eyes, Ms Smith turned back to Finnegan.

“Miss,” Finnegan tried to smile, “I swear I just saw a gun.”

Ms Smith gave a hoarse chuckle, shaking her head, “Of course you did, Finnegan.”

“No, Miss…” Finnegan started forward in protest but Ms Smith held up her hand.

“No, no, Finnegan – I believe you.” Finnegan glanced at the ground before turning back to the window and peering through again.

Staring out, he heard Ms Smith add, “What wouldn’t I believe now.”

With a heavy heart, Finnegan turned slowly back to the room, glancing between his teacher and his peer.

“They’re not out there anymore.”

Phitz tried to glare at his friend over his shoulder as the three of them walked through the school halls, but every time he caught wind of their conversation, he had to turn away to hide his grin. Ebony was quite a character, as he was certain Austin was discovering.

“You can’t just not like soccer,” Austin was saying.

Ebony whose face seemed to be fixed in a permanent frown replied, “Why not.”

“Because,” Austin stuttered, “because it’s soccer.”

Ebony shrugged, “Do you like pumpkin?”

“Yes.”

“How about ginger?”

“Yeah.”

“Onion?”

"Uh-huh."

Ebony scowled at him, “What are you; a vegetable lover?”

Austin shrugged and kept walking.

“What don’t you like?”

“Potato,” Austin said with a grimace.

Ebony stopped still, “You eat ginger and onion but you’re disgusted by the thought of potato?” she gasped, “you even like broccoli don’t you!”

Austin made a face.

“Oh thank God!” Ebony continued to walk, “so why don’t you like broccoli?”

Austin scowled, “because it tastes like nothing and should belong in a children’s toy set as a tree.”

Ebony raised an eyebrow.

Austin shrugged, “you asked.”

“Ok…” Ebony shook herself, “then, to me, soccer looks like a bunch of airheads running around an oval and should belong on planet without intelligent life forms.”

“What?” Austin chuckled.

Ebony scowled, “potato?”

Smirking, Phitz stopped at a fork in the corridor “well, I hate to interrupt the bickering, I really do, but we have to stop by Mr Irving’s office. Which way are you headed, Ebony?”

“Out?” she shrugged, “I don’t care which way. My mum’s going to kill me no matter how long I take.”

Austin nodded “Same deal with my folks. Yours over protective too, eh Ebbie?”

“Something like that,” Ebony said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “and don’t call me Ebbie.”

Austin grinned, “Sure, Ebbie.”

Ebony opened her mouth, a scowl on her face, but Phitz cut her off, “We have to see Coach Irving before we head out. He can let you out through his office when we find him.”

Ebony cast Austin a final glare, turning back to Phitz. She slapped her hands to her thighs, “Fine.”

So saying, Ebony strode off to the right, her backpack slung across her shoulder.  The guys followed after her, exchanging a glance. Phitz clapped his friend on the shoulder, shaking his head with a huge grin on his face.

Austin just frowned, “How can she not like soccer?”