Page 8 of Escape

With shivers running down my spine, I said a secret prayer that the ceiling wouldn’t cave in with me inside.

I pushed the creaking wooden door with the clouded little windows open. A familiar, anxious pain twisted my belly…just like every other time I’d pushed into these halls all those years ago. A wave of nostalgia slammed into me.

The shiny white speckled floors seemed to hold the same scuffs and cracks. The lockers were the same dull red with the same bumps and dents. The school pride banners hung dusty and faded in their same places. It was like the halls had been untouched since I’d left them for the last time.

That’s when I noticed that the halls were completely empty. I thought there would be some sort of check-in table. Maybe a photo station. Directly in front of me was a sign with a giant arrow that read: Reunion being held in the main gym.

Pushing against the tingle on the back of my neck, I followed the sign. Muffled voices, the clink of glasses and music grew louder, calming my worries enough to move my feet forward.

At the last second, I decided that I wanted to check myself in the mirror first. As much as I tried to push my mother’s words out of my mind, they rang loudly at the forefront of my thoughts. I had to make sure one last time that I was presentable enough.

In the restroom directly across the hall, the air was damp and dingy. The dim lights flickered, illuminating the stubborn graffiti on the walls and mirrors. Not much different from my school days. I placed my purse into the small lockers next to the sinks and locked myself into the last stall.

The moment my ass hit the paper-covered seat, the door creaked open. I sighed in relief. There were other people here. I heard the squeak of the locker as they placed their stuff inside, followed by the steady stream of water pouring from the faucet. I cursed myself for not taking a stall closer so I could peer through the cracks and see if it was someone I recognized. But they left almost as quickly as they’d come in and I was alone again.

I finished relieving myself and washed my hands, then settled in front of the mirror. My warm brown skin flickered under the faulty lights, exposing my shiny spots. Mom always told me I had greasy skin and it wasn’t until I got older that I realized people just had different skin types.

I leaned in, dabbing a paper towel gently over my cheeks and forehead until the shine dulled. Then, I used my fingers to pick through and fluff my curls. That was another thing my mother hated about me. She always found my thick, tumbling curls annoying and unmanageable.

While my brothers always had neat, maintained braids, she’d pile mine with oils and creams, frying it flat every day with a flat iron. I always wondered why she decided to have mixed-race children if she didn’t intend to care for all of them properly and accept all of them fully.

Despite it all, I’d grown to love my hair and even believed that my mother must have been jealous. I remembered her rolling her flat, straight hair in huge rollers and brushing tangled bumps into the crown of her head, attempting and failing to give it volume.

Now, I wore mine big and proud, a silent fuck you to her, even if she wasn’t around to see it. It was a delicate dance I battled daily, whether to let her criticism win or radically love the parts she hated.

“Hello, class of 2013!” A smooth voice spoke over the intercom. “Welcome to Maple Meadow High School’s 10-year reunion. It's so nice to see all of your faces again. If you haven’t already, please make your way to the main gym. Dinner will be served shortly!”

My mouth watered as I remembered what I’d ordered on the meal form. It was the perfect time to make my entrance. Everyone would be finding their seats and sitting down. No pressure to walk up to anyone just yet.

I adjusted my white, off-the-shoulder dress, making sure the lace was uncurled and it flowed over my tummy and around my thighs just right, and pushed out of the bathroom.

Colorful lights flashed through the little frosted glass windows of the main gym doors. The voices and music became clearer as I wrapped a hand around the handle, sucked in one last deep breath and walked into the reunion.

The room was darker than I thought it would be. All I could make out was the dark figures of bodies spread around the space as the strobing lights momentarily illuminated them. The music was blasting much louder, echoing around the enclosed space. I was suddenly way too overwhelmed to move.

I squinted, casting my gaze around the room to try to get a better look at everyone. To find anyone I recognized, but it was useless as the lights were almost blinding.

So, I decided to dive right into the sea of bodies. All I needed to do was find my seat and maybe the room would stop spinning.

I tried to weave carefully through the crowd as I was flashed to death with red, blue and purple flares. But when I squeezed my eyes shut to try to soothe the sting, my arm brushed into something rigid and scratchy. My lids shot open, ‘sorry’ already poised on my lips, when my heart stopped.

I lifted my hand and ran it over the figure, just to make sure I was actually seeing what I thought I was seeing. The pads of my fingers brushed over the grainy surface, confirming my assumption. I whipped around, taking in the figures around me that seemed to pulse in the light. Their frozen faces smiled and mocked me.

A wave of nausea swept over me as I looked around at what filled the room. Every time the lights changed color, a new face caught my attention. Hundreds of cardboard cutouts with blown-up yearbook pictures pasted on the heads surrounded me.

A scream caught in my throat. I backed away, knocking over the cutouts as I tried to get out. When I turned to run, I stumbled right into a table, knocking the wind out of me, but I couldn’t stop. Curled over into myself, holding my belly as I tried to catch my breath, I scrambled towards the door.

Blackness engulfed me. The lights went out, followed by the music. The voices. The clinking of glasses. Everything went dark and silent. It stayed that way until the sound of locks slamming into place, one by one, sounded all around the room. I counted 4 locks for all 4 exits, but refused to let myself believe that I was trapped.

I scrambled for my bag on my shoulder to get my phone to call for help, only to find my arms bare.

“Fuck!” I cried to myself. I was so ready for my filet mignon that I’d left my purse in the lockers in the bathroom.

I tripped over my scrambling feet to the main door, tugging it so hard that I swear my shoulder almost ripped from its socket. It didn’t budge, so I resorted to banging, praying that anyone walking by might hear me.

“Hello! Hello! Anyone?! I’m in here!” I screamed, but it was no use. Nobody was coming. Nobody was here.

“Welcome, Jasmine.” The same smooth voice from earlier sounded over the intercom again and I remembered that there was someone here. The voice over the intercom. Whoever had walked into the bathroom after me.