Fooled

Then a boy said something. He sounded excited. He was talking rapidly. But I couldn’t make out the words. I spun back to the art room. No one there.

“Hey where are you?” I called. Silence now.

I pulled a paint can off the shelf and tucked it under my arm. Then I grabbed another can with my free hand. “Hey” I called out when I heard the voices again. “This isn’t funny!” I cried. “Where are you hiding?” No reply.

They must be in the next room, I decided. I carried the paint cans out into the art room and set them down on the teacher’s desk. Then I crept into the hall. I stopped at the next door and poked my head into the room. It was some kind of storage room. Boxes marked fragile were stacked against one wall.No one there. I checked the room across the hall. No one there, either. As I walked back to the art room, I heard the voices again. The girl was shouting now. And then the boy shouted too.

It sounded as if they were calling for help. But for some reason their voices seemed muffled, kind of far away. My heart started to beat a little faster. My throat suddenly felt dry. Who is playing this joke on me? I wondered. Everyone has gone home. The whole building is empty. So who is up here? And why can’t I find them? “Benjamin? Aaliyah?” I shouted. My voice echoed off the long wall of gray lockers. “Are you up here?” Silence.

I took a deep breath and stepped back into the art room. I’m just going to ignore them, I decided.

I hoisted up the two cans of paint and made my way back out into the hall. I glanced quickly both ways, thinking I might see Aaliyah and Benjamin.

A shadow leaned out from an open doorway.

I froze and stared. “Who who’s there?” I called.

A man backed out of the doorway, pulling a large vacuum cleaner. He wore a gray uniform and had the stub of an unlit cigarette clenched in his teeth.

The maintenance man. I sighed and made my way to the stairs. I don’t think he saw me. The stairway curved halfway down. I started down the steps, but I stopped in front of a large notice board on the wall. I glanced over the notices of school events, a calendar, and a lost-and-found list.

Oh, wow. I’m in trouble. I don’t remember seeing this on my way up, I told myself. I gazed back up to the top of the stairs. Did I take the wrong stairway? Will these stairs take me back to the auditorium? Only one way to find out, I decided.

Gripping the paint cans tightly, I turned and continued down. To my surprise, the stairs ended at the second floor. I gazed down a long hallway, searching for stairs to take me to the auditorium in the basement. But I saw only closed classroom doors and long rows of metal lockers. The paint cans started to feel heavy. My shoulders ached. I set the cans on the floor and took a moment to stretch my arms.

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