The Badboy and The Jailbird

Chapter 13 "Kisses and Kidnappings."

After a long talk - and I mean like into Biology - we finally cleared everything up. So let me explain.

Carla has been dating Taylor for 1 month. She had no clue he had a step-sister, or that he was living with me. But now we have both been caught up.

"So," Carla asked as we started to make our way to biology. "Taylor, the school's bad boy and my boyfriend, is living in your attic?" I nod my head slowly trying to figure out why Taylor didn't tell me he had a girlfriend.

We make our way slowly down the old deserted hallway to room 275. My mind wanders off to the phone call I received a few days ago and try to decipher mentally who it was. Then my mind drifts off to Baxter, but by then we are in front of the bio room.

"You go in first then I follow?" I nod and make my way into the classroom, full of hormonal teens, explosive chemicals, and diagrams of the inside of a person.

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As I make my way out of the Spanish room, I hear a certain deep male voice call my name. He jogs up to me.

Running a hand through his dark brown hair, Baxter questions me. "You need a ride home?"

I think about it. I have my Yamaha but I also need to work on a group project for English.

Maybe I should do the responsible thing for once. 

Deciding on that, I tell him what I plan to do, and that we will talk later. He gives me a small kiss on the cheek surprising me and we say our goodbyes, going in opposite directions. Texting Taylor, I tell him I would be home in time for dinner (Probably around 6 or 7). He never showed up in class after the incident in the cafeteria. Maybe he got sent home.

Then Jamie comes to mind. Since she has yet to hear from her mom, Jay is going to be going to tutoring set up by her social worker. You see, Jamie is still on parole for a month after getting out. This means nothing illegal or else she goes back to Juve.

After standing in the hallway for another few minutes, not wanting to work on school stuff, I head reluctantly to the library.

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After working "very" hard for the past 3 hours, I say goodbye to the rest of my group. You see, they were still working but then my phone dinged telling me I had a text. I told them it was my mother and that I had to leave or else I'd be grounded for skipping family dinner night. In reality, it was Jamie asking how you turn on the Xbox in my room.

Heading out the side door from the library to the parking lot, I put my earbuds in and click Eminem from the artist section in Spotify.

With "Rap God" blasting in my ears and no one in sight, I head to my Yamaha. 

It was then that I felt a pair of big, clammy hands wrap around me, another pair bind my hands and feet, and then a black, backward ski mask go over my head, blocking my vision. I struggle, afraid for my life, as I am thrown into a car, most likely an Expedition.

Calming down I hear one younger sounding voice of a guy yell at another mysterious person.

"Let's go now! I mean what if Taylor is still here or something!" My whole body tenses when I hear Taylor's name and immediately red, hot anger spreads through my body. If Taylor is to blame for why I'm being kidnapped, then he will rue the day I get free of these morons.

Then, like being hit by a mental bus, a thought comes to mind.

The mysterious call.

Just then the car starts up, pulls out of the parking lot, I assume, and onto the road.

After about a 25 minute drive, they pull into what I think is a gravel road or driveway. 5 minutes after the last person closes their door (I mentally count 3 doors slamming), someone opens the trunk of the car. 

Two men - one who smells of old spice deodorant, and the other who smells like he owns a pig farm - escort me to a door which rolls open with a screeching sound leading me to believe we are in a warehouse.

I am sat down, quite harshly I might add, in a creaky metal chair. They untie each leg and carefully and quickly retie them to the chair. They do the same with my hand, then, to my surprise, take off my make-shift blindfold.

Bright light greets my grey eyes, as well as a face to put to the mysterious distorted voice from the call.

"Hello, Bridget. Remember me?"