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9. Trapped With Mr. Bad Boy
Author: Angela Lynn Carver"Nice going Janey," Jake snarled at me.
We met up in the basement after school, much to my dismay.
"This is all your fault, buddy. YOU pushed me!" I protested.
"Whatever," he waved his hands in dismissal. "Let's just get this over with so I can go home," he said gruffly.
"Yeap, let's...why don't you start by moving those boxes over there and I'll sweep the floor," I offered.
Jake didn't argue anymore. He went over to the corner and started to move stuff around. I picked up the broom and started sweeping. Jake sneezed a few times as the room was dusty. His eyes were slowly turning red. Dust allergy?
I guess my sweeping skill was rusty because I was doing a terrible job. All I did was move the dirt around and made the room dustier.
We worked together quietly for the first half-hour. I was surprised he didn't attack me with smart-ass remarks or call me nasty names for this long. Must be a new record for him.
"Would you move your fat ass a little faster? I am sick of this dust already," Jake remarked after a while.
And there it is ladies and gents, Jake is back with his insults. "I am sweeping as fast as I can. Just shut up and do your part," I snarled.
"What exactly am I supposed to be doing anyway?" he asked.
"He wants us to stack those boxes neatly on the side of the room so there will be room for more things here. So, chop-chop. Let's use those muscles and start to lift those boxes since I can't," I said.
"Oh, you noticed?" Jake smirked and flexed his arms. I rolled my eyes.
We worked some more. Thankfully, he was cooperating and not acting like an imbecile for once.
"Phew, all done. Let's get out of here," I said. I was exhausted and couldn't wait to get out of this half-lit, musty basement.
"Thank god," Jake said and got up the stairs ahead of me. What a gentleman, I thought sarcastically.
"Uh oh," he said loudly as he pulled on the door handle.
"What?" I asked. I didn't like the sound of that.
"I think the door is jammed," he said.
"Ha ha, very funny Jakey boy. I am too tired for your dumb prank right now," I said.
"I am not kidding. This is really stuck," Jake said and pulled on the door handle again.
"Get the fuck out of my way," I said and pushed him aside. I turned the doorknob several times and pulled but the door was really stuck. Oh hell no.
"Do you believe me now, Genius?" Jake said sarcastically.
"No way, this can't be happening! I can't be stuck here with you! We need to get out of here!" I cried.
"No shit Sherlock," Jake said and rolled his eyes.
I started to bang on the door. "HELP! IS SOMEONE OUT THERE? WE ARE STUCK!" I yelled. I didn't hear any footsteps approaching. No one was around to come to rescue us as the school was over.
"Jesus, stop yelling. Call someone on your cellphone or something," he suggested.
I took my phone out and stared at it. "Oh my god, I have no signal down here!"
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jake barked.
"Um...what about your phone?" I asked.
He dug into his pockets for his phone but then made a sour face.
"What is it?" I asked frantically.
"Shit...I forgot. Ms. Levy confiscated my phone in class earlier and forgot to give it back to me. So, I don't have it on me," Jake said awkwardly.
Oh, fuck my life.
"No, no, noooooo!" I screamed and paced back and forth.
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Jake said irritably. "Calm the fuck down, would you?"
"How can I calm down! We are going to be trapped in here for who knows how long! Why aren't you panicking?" I said frantically.
"Because I am not a whiny bitch like you. We aren't going to be trapped in here forever. Someone will know we are missing and come look for us I am sure," Jake said hopefully.
But how long will that take? No one at home cared about me. My parents were always out working late and Liliana probably wouldn't even notice I was gone.
"I can't wait that long. This room is too small...I can't...breathe..." I started to hyperventilate all of a sudden.
I knew Jake was probably thinking I was being dramatic but I was truly having a panic attack. This room was cold and dark. The dust was starting to trigger my asthma. I haven't had an asthma attack since I was little but I could feel it coming back as I was panicking. I laid on the ground on my stomach and started to wheeze.
"Um...Jane? Stop acting crazy," Jake said.
I couldn't pay attention to him as I was too busy dying. His voice sounded far away. I held my chest and tried to calm down but my mind was going blank every second. I felt two arms grabbing me and lifting me up then holding me.
"Hey calm down. Jane? Can you hear me?" Jake was saying. He sounded concerned for once.
"I can't breathe...I can't..." I gasped for breath and started to shake.
"JANEY! For fuck's sake! What do I do?" Jake sounded panicked. I could see him hovering over me but my vision was blurry.
I felt warm all of a sudden. He was hugging me.
"Shhh...just breathe..." he said and unzipped my hoodie to give me some air. Thank god I was wearing a tank top underneath today.
He slipped his hand inside my tank top. I felt goosebumps all over my body as I felt his warm hand on my back. Is he trying to sexually assault me at a time like this?
"W..what are you doing," I stammered and tried to wiggle his hand away but I was too weak.
"Stop moving, I am going to massage your back. It'll help you calm down," he scolded me.
I was going to fight him some more but stopped when he started to caress my back. I automatically put my head on his chest and closed my eyes. His hand felt so calming and warm. I felt my breathing returning to its normal state. My body stopped shaking.
"Is this making you feel better?" his voice sounded sweet and gentle. This wasn't the Jake I was used to. Why couldn't he act like this all the time? I nodded against his chest.
"Well good. You were starting to scare me a little. I thought I'd have to hide your dead body down here," he scoffed.
"You can stop touching me. I am good now," I lifted my head off of his chest.
"Are you sure? Your boobs are kind of nice..."
"JAKE!" I yelled and pushed him off of me and punched him on the chest.
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