Something about being out at night felt good. It was what I used to do to get away—go out, walk the streets, be alone. I wished I could go outside now. I couldn’t even open the window.
I was almost to the door that left the dorm when I heard the familiar buzz and click. But the sound wasn’t coming from just that door—it was loud, coming from every door, all at once. I grabbed the nearest doorknob. Locked.
Voices were coming from back down the corridor—angry voices that were trying unsuccessfully to be quiet.
I ran the last few yards to the exit door, but it didn’t unlock for me. I was trapped, everything locked all around me. Except . . .
The room I’d just been in was still open—I hadn’t shut the door, so it couldn’t have locked. I ran back, my bare feet silent on the solid floor. I darted inside and swung the door almost closed—but held it open an inch, so that it couldn’t lock with me inside. Then I listened.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” a voice called, playful and evil.
It was still far away. Someone must have heard me. Oakland wanted revenge, and he knew I was alone.
There were more voices now—muffled shouts. People were pounding on their walls. Oakland couldn’t lock all these doors. No one could do it remotely like this.
No one except the school.
The voices weren’t getting any closer. I opened the door a little wider and peeked into the hallway.
I could see dark silhouettes at the junction.
“Little pig, little pig, let me come in.” I knew the voice. I’d heard it before. Was it Skiver? Oakland?
The shadows were coming out of the Society’s side and going down Havoc’s side.
“Open up, Walnut,” the voice said. It was Dylan. The Society was going after Havoc in the middle of the night. And the school had locked all the doors.
I wanted to get closer to see what was going on, but I didn’t dare.
The pounding sounded like an earthquake now, as Havoc tried to break out of their rooms.
“Wallace Jackson,” a new voice said. Isaiah. His words were loud and emotionless. “You have broken the rules, and we are here to collect you for detention. We have orders from the school.”
Someone screamed something, but I couldn’t make it out—it was probably Walnut behind his door.
“We are simply fulfilling our contract,” Isaiah continued. “You knew the rules, you knew the consequences, and you chose to disobey. This is not personal.”
“You bet it isn’t,” Dylan cackled gleefully. “I won’t enjoy it at all.”
Half a dozen kids were laughing, gloating about whatever would happen to Walnut.
There were more muffled shouts, and now I could barely even understand Isaiah over the pounding.
With fingers shaking from fear, I examined the door I was hiding behind. It was heavy, thick wood with steel deadbolts and large brass hinges. These things were like prison bars—they were made to trap people in their rooms. Walnut was on his own—his was probably the only one unlocked.
I wanted to run out there and stop them, to punch in Dylan’s laughing teeth and smash Isaiah’s head against the wall. We were all prisoners together—why couldn’t they realize that?
It was impossible to tell what was going on now. There was too much noise, too much yelling, too much pounding. I listened and watched, but couldn’t see anything.
And then there was a crash, and Walnut’s voice was loud and angry. He swore and screamed. Someone was with him—his roommate, whoever that was—and he was shrieking, too. But there were only the two of them, and I’d seen at least a dozen shadows in the hall. The Society had more than thirty members, and I bet all the guys were there now, helping to subdue Walnut.
Sweat was dripping down my face, despite the cold. There was nothing I could do to help. There were too many of them.
A moment later another shadow emerged from Havoc’s hall, and I ducked back into the empty room. I closed the door all but half an inch and watched the corridor.
The Society marched triumphantly past me, laughing in frenzied delight. Isaiah was at their head, quiet but proud. They dragged Walnut behind them, screaming. His hands and feet were bound with something, and he had no shirt on—just boxer shorts.
“What did I do?” he howled desperately. “What did I do?”
I wanted to jump out there. I could stop a few of them.
No. It wouldn’t be enough.
They passed out of my view, and I heard the buzz and click of the opening door. Light from outside spilled into the corridor as the mob left the dorm. Their laughter dropped for a moment. Walnut was groaning.
Isaiah said something I couldn’t make out. I opened my door again, just enough to peer out. Laura was waiting for them.
Isaiah said something else, but it was lost in a wail from his prisoner.
“She’s downstairs,” Laura said, her words breaking between Walnut’s cries.
The last of the Society guys let the heavy wooden door swing shut, enveloping me again in darkness.
I took a deep gulp of air and realized I’d been holding my breath. I could still hear pounding and defeated shouts from the Havoc hallway, but all of the Society was gone. Standing on unsteady, trembling legs, I stepped out into the hall.
Part of me wanted to follow them, to find out what detention really was and what would happen to Walnut. I wanted to know who “she” was. Was someone else being taken to detention as well?
But I didn’t follow. I’d spent all my time here being too cocky, too confident that nothing bad would really happen. A few fistfights, maybe, and a lot of yelling. But that all changed this afternoon at the graveyard, and Walnut’s detention was the final straw. The Society was hauling someone away, laughing and gloating while they did it.
I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel now. I wanted to escape more than ever, but it felt impossible. When I’d fallen out of the tree it hadn’t been a simple matter of talking Laura and Dylan out of punishment—I’d been lucky to have the V’s backing me up. I wouldn’t always be so lucky.
Just the thought of being a target of the Society made my heart race. I didn’t want to end up like Walnut.
As my panic receded, I remembered that he had to have a roommate. I jogged back down the empty corridor and into Havoc’s territory. Their doors were still closed and locked, but there was no pounding anymore. They must have known it was no use.
Walnut’s door was open, a little pale gray light from his window trickling out into the hallway.
I stepped inside.
There was a body on the floor by the wall, motionless.
I moved to him. He was one of the fatter kids, and his head was shaved with jagged tattoos drawn across his scalp. I didn’t know him at all, other than that he was in my class and I thought his nickname was Mash-something. Masher or Mashed Potato, or something like that.
He was breathing. I could hear it, raspy and shallow. His hands and feet were bound with plastic zip ties.
“You okay?” I said.
He flinched, one eye popping open. “Who’s that?” he snapped.
“Benson. Everyone else is locked in.”
“Why ain’t you?” he snapped.
“I wasn’t in my room when they all locked.”
“Well, then get me out of these damn handcuffs. There’s a knife on the desk.”