Life Within The Halls

Chapter 8: My Reasons, My Motives"

LIFE WITHIN THE HALLS

Sandra

Wednesday, 11th February, 5:00 p.m.

I was convinced Gideon had deliberately ignored my calls three times. Why would he even bother answering now? By doubting my intelligence in front of the school principal, he had essentially dismissed our friendship.

On my fourth attempt to call him, likely the last time to check on how he was coping with his best friend's issue, the phone pinged in my hand.  It wasn't Gideon calling—it was someone more important.

"Good afternoon!" I answered the call.

"It's evening already, dear," Mr. Wilmer corrected with his deep voice.

I took the phone off my ear, checking the time on top. 5 pm on the dot. That was when I remembered I had to go somewhere. I had to meet up with Gideon and that famous guy, Jayden Scott.

"Any updates for me?" Mr Wilmer asked.

"Daniel's best friend swears up and down that Daniel has been replaced by his look-alike and..." I shared, my pacing growing more frantic with each word.

"What?" he exclaimed after I gave him the lowdown. "So you're telling me the real Daniel Blay is still missing?"

"Yes, please," I replied.

"I knew something was fishy. How Daniel Blay was found without any sign of injury on him sounded strange to me. It was even in the news that he refused to comment on whatever happened to him."

"It was strange to me too."

Missing for 24 hours with no cuts or harm, without anyone demanding a ransom or something from his family? That sounded like something out of a Hollywood movie script.

"Please keep yourself safe in that school," Mr. Wilmer cautioned me.

"I will, you don't have to worry," I affirmed before hanging up.

I checked the time again and noted I still had about an hour and a half until the meetup. Having already freshened up after returning from school, I had plenty of time to choose an outfit.

I browsed through my closet and picked out my favorite brown dress. It used to be long when my sister had bought it for me two years ago, but now it barely reached my knees.

As I stood before the mirror, indulging in a few spritzes of perfume, a sharp knock on my door caused my heart to skip a beat.

It was fifteen minutes past five in the evening. Who could it be?

Quickly, I hid a pen behind me and edged closer to the door. "Who's there?" I demanded.

"It's housekeeping. May I come in?" a female voice responded from the other side.

Housekeeping in the evening? Everything felt out of place in Bel-Air.

I sighed. "No, everything is fine here, thank you."

"Alright, have a good evening, Miss," the cleaner acknowledged before withdrawing.

I ran my hand over my straight black hair, taming any stray strands, and slung my black petite bag over my shoulder.

I locked the door behind me and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, the scent of fresh laundry and disinfectant filling my nostrils.

Descending the stairs to the first floor of the building I lived in, I overheard two women in cleaning uniforms gossiping in hushed tones.

"Look at her," one remarked, pointing her finger in my direction. "I can tell she's from a wealthy family, attending that big school. But, why does she live alone?"

"I've wondered the same thing. What kind of parent lets their teenage daughter live alone in a hotel?" the other cleaner mused.

Cleaner 1 added, "What's even more intriguing is that she never allows housekeeping into her room."

To which Cleaner 2 responded, "That reminds me, I once saw a man in a black suit leaving her room. I assumed he was her father, but the way he walked seemed like he was trying to hide himself."

I shot them a disapproving look, letting them know their voices were loud enough for me to hear clearly. So, what if I chose to lodge at a hotel as a student? What was the harm in that? I had my own reasons, my own motives, and they were none of their business.

I pulled out my phone and requested an Uber, watching the minutes tick by at a glacial pace. After waiting for a whole twenty minutes, the driver canceled my order without any explanation.

I groaned in frustration, wondering why they even bothered accepting the request if they had no intention of showing up.

Left with no other option, I stowed my phone in my bag and started walking, the click-clack of my heels on the sidewalk echoing through the quiet, tree-lined neighborhood.

The sidewalks were lined with grand mansions that screamed luxury, their perfectly manicured lawns and fancy facades glowing under the streetlights. It was like walking through a magazine come to life, the air thick with the feel of sophistication.

A wave of unease washed over me as I turned a corner. Four boys loitered nearby, their black hoodies and baseball caps making them look sketchy. My gut told me they were up to no good, though I couldn't quite put my finger on why.

One of them crossed my path and looked me in the eyes. "Hi, beautiful," he said, his voice dripping with an unsettling confidence.

His behavior reminded me of Jayden's, but with a very different face.  Jayden was much better than him.

The other three closed in beside him, forming a tight circle that enveloped me in the center. The darkness seemed to closing in around me, like a suffocating shroud. Desperate, I prayed for a miracle. "Help me, Lord, help me," I muttered, only to be met with laughter from the guys.

Out of nowhere, the piercing beam of a car's headlights sliced through the darkness, making my eyes throb painfully against the sudden brightness. I raised a hand to shield my eyes, the light feeling like a razor cutting through the night.

The four guys approached the car, stretching their bodies as if they were gearing up for a boxing match. As they closed in, I strained to see the driver through the rolled-down tinted window, but all I could discern was a blue bandana.

''We're your fans!" the four guys yelled in excitement, as if they had just seen Taylor Swift.

"You're my star, Jayden Scott!" one of them exclaimed.

Jayden Scott? The same person who had tried to harass me in the school basement? Was he now the savior sent by the Lord to rescue me?

Jayden waved at me with a lazy hand, his Rolex watch glinting in the light, his dreadlocks bobbing slightly as he motioned for me to get into the car. He looked more handsome than he did in his school uniform, with a bandana stylishly tucked under his locks.

At a young age, he was driving a Mercedes-Benz. Seeing someone his age behind the wheel of such a car made me wonder if he had anything to worry about.

I hesitated, my pride warring with my desire for safety. I didn't want to owe Jayden anything, but the thought of walking alone in the dark was unbearable. He started counting down on his fingers, a silent reminder for me to make a decision about joining him in his car.