Young Writers Society

Drakes only priority was to make his movements smooth and graceful as he left the house that night. He had to be unnoticed or it would be all over. Just thinking of what may come made his heart race, body shake in anticipation. His legs felt weak as he pushed open the back door on his grandparents screened in porch, closing the door silently behind him. He was out, he moved quickly through the humid night air to where he had his bike sitting, leaningagainsthis grandfathersprizeprocession, a 1969Plymouthroad runner. Its sky blue paint was worn and chipped and its rust showed prominently, still his grandfather loved that car none the less. He grabbed his bike and jumped on it after getting a running start up his steep driveway.

He could hear the tires smashing rocks and feel every bump in the road as he pedaled aggressively down the dark country road. There wasn't a car in sight and he could see every star in the night sky. His heart was racing and his palms were wet inside his tight leather gloves. The back pack on his shoulders was light, only a couple things he knew would come in handy,he had planned it through and through, over and over.

The scenarios ran through his head of what may happen, theconsequences and the repercussions but he knew what he had to do. Run. Far away is where he wanted to be and he intended to get there, no matter what. He pedaled and pedaled chopping through night air numbing his sweaty face, He could feel the burn in his calves but now wasn't the time for a break. He glanced down at his digital watch as it glowed the green number 2:30. He was behindschedule but he would make up for it as he pedaled harder, sweat dripping down his forehead into his eyes now. He wiped it away over and over till he could make out street lights in the distance, Waverly Hall. A smallquainttown in Georgia, nothing special to the untrained eye, but this is the only place he could remotely remember happiness. He passed his and didn't even turn his head to look back and say goodbye. He was focused and clear minded. He had to say goodbye, it was the only thing that made sense anymore

Slowing his pedaling as he turned into the parking lot and glided behind the white brick building where there were no street lights. He drifted his bike into the woods behind thedumpstersand left it. His breathing was heavy and the sweat poured from his head. He couldn't even tell now if his legs were shaky from the 6 mile ride or fear. Maybe it wasn't fear he was feeling, but he was already in to deep to turn around and go back home. It was time. He dropped his book bag softly on the pitch black asphalt and leaning his steaming foreheadagainstthe cool brick. He listened. The sound of tree frogscroakingand crickets singing filled his ears. He listened hard for quite awhile, just staring at the painted brick, pinpointing every sound in his vicinity. He couldn't hear cars, not a human around.

He made a quick glance at his watch that was glowing 3:15, he made his move slowly around the left of the building. He glided confidently towards the single barredwindow. He grabbed the bars and tried to move them. There was defidently play in the bars and he had just what he needed. He turned normally towards the back and returned to his book bag. Grabbing his two precious tools, a screwdriver and a hammer. Walking back around the building he toke deep breathes to keep himself a float over jello legs. He chipped at concrete around the bolts for onlyminutes, timing every hit of the hammer with the sound of the crickets chirping around him.

Drake dropped his tools quietly onto the grass by his feet and gave the window one sharp tug, yanking the two bottom bolts free from the concrete. He grabbed the tools at his feet and moved onceagainaround back to grab his last tool. His grandfathers crowbar. He wedged it in-between the concrete and the bars, thrusting the bars up with his legs. bending and warping the metal toexposethe window at last. He returned to the back to return the crowbar and at that moment decided to rest his bodyagainstthe back wall this time, and listened. Just listened, no thoughts ofconsequencesran through his head anymore. The hardest part was over. He wiped the sweat off his forehead once more and proceeded to the window again. The lock was broken already and he knew that so he just pushed it open with thelittlestof efforts. He grabbed the window sile with his leather covered palms and jumped just high enough to use his stomach to roll him over and through it. hands landing on the ugly patterned tile feet sliding in afterwards silently. It was a singletoiletbathroom with nothing but small sink with a cracked fogged mirror just barely hanging on the wall above it. The full moon outside just gave him enough light to glimpse himself in the mirror walking past. He saw nothing but his shadowed eyes and the hints of a smirk on his face. He was in, not in his daydreams but in real life. He had finally done it.

He opened the door fluently and closed it behind him as he entered the wood floored hallway leading directly to the main desk. He didn't move his eyes from that peg board on the wall. The shiny keys gleaming in his eyes, and those bright yellow tags hanging with them. He felt his smirk twitch, smiling bigger and bigger. He read the tag once "1994 fordexpedition". He had them in his pocket now. Turning sharply towards the bathroomagain, leaving the way he came in. He had done it, free at last.