Mark My Words

27 | Kidnapped By Bradshaw

Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved.

Homecoming went on, and in the process, the crowds filtered in and out with new attendees. More of the soccer girls came through, left, and settled on the outskirts of the partying in favor of resting their feet. It wasn't long before the cafeteria became warm, humid with the sweat of dancing people, and so Rosalie went out into the hallway for the water fountain.

In the midst of cooling off, she walked down to her locker across the building. The wings were all gated off, though, and so she stood staring down the hallway until she heard two familiar voices heading in her direction. She looked down the hall, not seeing anyone until none other than Blake Miles and Joanna Spencer rounded the corner.

"Speak of the devil," Blake said cheerfully.

"Are you talking about me or her?" Rosalie said, pointing to Joanna.

"She calls me The Devil," Joanna explained to Blake, smug as ever. She perched her hands on her hips and grinned at Rosalie. "Right, Killer?"

"I love your pet names for each other," Blake said.

All the heat from the dance swelled back into Rosalie's face. So much for a break to cool off. "They—! They aren't pet names! She's the actual Devil," Rosalie cried, thrusting her hands in Joanna's direction. "Did you completely miss what she did in the auditorium?"

"I have to admit, I was a bit distracted," Blake confessed, gasping in remembrance. He produced his phone from his pocket and tsked under his breath. "My boys found out where I am," he explained.

"Yikes," Joanna hissed. "Keep 'em off our property, man."

"They're a bit protective, you know how it is," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Though, I doubt they'd set foot in the Bradshaw building. They'll just loiter in the parking lot."

"Yeah, and last time they loitered in our parking lot, Lennie's Maserati was spray painted red," Rosalie said.

Just then, Blake's phone buzzed, and they all gathered around to see what Lucas Birchmeir had to say for himself. "Oh my," Blake hummed, disappointed. "It seems... they've gotten ahold of the football team."

"Jesus Christ," Joanna said under her breath. "If they tear up the parking lot—"

"We should tell the teachers. They can get the police in the parking lot," Rosalie suggested.

They started for the foyer where they knew teachers were posted to keep watch over people entering and exiting. There was a security line to ensure students didn't bring alcohol or drugs into the dance, and Rosalie strode past it to speak to one of her old teachers from sophomore year.

She didn't get far before they heard voices rising up down the hallway. The draft from the open foyer door caused her to pull her arms around her chest, warding off the cold. Joanna frowned, looking out at where a group of people seemed to be flocking out of the cafeteria.

"What's happening?" the teacher asked, alarmed.

"It looks like—" Rosalie started, only to have her voice shrivel up and die. It was the football team. Shouting like they were getting ready for a game chant.

"This is bad, isn't it?" Blake said, voice pitched high with worry. "I don't deal well with conflict," he said, fanning himself with his phone.

"That's what I'm here for," Joanna said, raising her fists.

Rosalie slapped her fists down. "You're terrible at dealing with conflict," Rosalie countered.

Blake's phone buzzed again, and he looked damn near close passing out. He swooned a little, and so Joanna caught him. He draped a forearm against his head and cried, "They think I've been kidnapped!"