“Why did you hang up? We haven’t got a plan yet,” Chloe demanded, confused.
“‘Cause I’ve ALREADY got a plan,” I announced proudly.
“Say it then.”
“Okay,” I said, keeping an eye on the window. “So Zoe said to create an exit.”
“That sounds brilliant. But how? There’s no room for digging here,” Chloe asked. I saw her ink-black eyes staring into my blue-green ones.
“I’m not even finished yet!” I exclaimed, a bit annoyed. “So, my plan is to use my hair clip to unlock the door at midnight when my aunt will be asleep like a dead pig. You still need to be quiet, though.”
In the sunset blaze, I saw Chloe’s face illuminated by the light. The flare gilded a golden frame around her charcoal hair. She seemed to be considering my plan. But I reflected to myself: What if I put Chloe in trouble? This happened before: decades ago, I had a friend named Charlotte, aka Lottie. She had a very strict mother. Once, she came to my house for my 9th birthday but got caught by my aunt. It couldn’t have been more devastating. I remember the weather was like today, with a raging storm…
In the long silence with Chloe, I slipped into a flashback: I was that idiotic silly girl who believed that Aunt Vanessa would welcome any kid my age. I remember answering the call near the garage when my aunt still had a job. I was giggling as I ran to the door and opened it. Lottie was holding a golden present and smiling more brightly than ever. Her ebony hair was just like Chloe’s, but her eyes were a hundred percent Zoe’s gray. She smiled and handed me the well-packed present: it was a pot of ivy sprouts.
But then my aunt came to the door and pulled me back. I remember the pale look on Charlotte’s face as I staggered back. Aunt Vanessa shouted at her angrily and hit me on the head—in front of Lottie, who was crying and running back home, soaked in the rain. My pot dropped on the ground and broke into a pile of dirt. Our friendship smashed like the ivy pot the next day when we shouted at each other over something I’ve long forgotten. Lottie moved away from Vallybrook Town, and I heard that she went to another boarding school called The Maple Hill High.
My mind returned to the truth that this plan was super risky. My room became cold after the cruel rain wash.
“This is a risky plan,” Chloe replied. “But it’s the best plan so far.”
I drooped my head and whispered, “Then let’s wait for midnight.”
Time seemed to stop as we waited in silence. I felt nervousness starting to strangle my chest, but I also caught a drop of excitement and confidence mixing into the fear. I’ve done this before at school, I told myself; I am really sneaky.
When you’re nervous, time seems to work in a strange way—it’s faster than ever, like a few hours passed in the blink of an eye. In no time (Where are the gossipy hours we spent? Where’s the time we ate canned corn?), the faint moonlight was now ruling the stormy sky. I saw Chloe’s watch ticking in a stable rhythm. But she looked so tired and unstable; even though she was asleep, she was twitching in her dreams, probably having a bad one.
“Chloe, it’s time to go,” I gently tapped her shoulders.
“‘At? Time to ‘o?” Chloe mumbled sleepily. “What’s the time?”
“12:07,” I replied. “We’re already 7 minutes in.”
Chloe suddenly sat up straight. “We are ALREADY 7 minutes in? Better get going!”
We stalked through the living room, being extra careful when passing by my aunt’s bedroom. Yet the squeaky old flooring made the trip the hardest. We had to tiptoe through the whole house before reaching the door to freedom.
“Ready?” I whispered nervously.
Chloe gave me a brave nod.
“Okay,” I breathed.
I took off my hair clip and pushed it inside the keyhole. I turned sideways, fidgeted a bit, and the door opened.
