Life Within The Halls

Chapter 8: My Reasons, My Motives"

LIFE WITHIN THE HALLS

Sandra

Wednesday, 11th February, 5:00 p.m.

I was convinced Gideon had intentionally ignored my call three times. Why would he even pick up? He had indirectly shown me that he doubted my intelligence.

On my fourth attempt to call him, likely the last time to check on how he was coping with his best friend's issue, the phone vibrated in my hands. It wasn't Gideon calling—it was someone more important.

"Good afternoon!" I answered the call.

"It's evening already, dear," Mr. Wilmer corrected with his deep voice.

I took the phone off my ear, glancing at the time on top. 5:00 pm. Then, something crossed my mind. That was when I remembered I had to go somewhere. I had to meet up with Gideon and that famous guy, Jayden Scott.

"Any updates for me?" he asked.

"Daniel's best friend swears up and down that Daniel has been replaced by his look-alike and..." I shared, my pacing growing more frantic with each word.

"What?" he exclaimed. "So you're telling me the real Daniel Blay is still missing?"

"Yes, please," I replied.

"I knew something was fishy. How Daniel Blay was found without any sign of injury on him sounded strange to me. It was even in the news that he refused to comment on whatever happened to him."

"It was strange to me too," I said.

Missing for 24 hours with no cuts or harm, without anyone demanding a ransom or something from his family? That sounded like something out of a Hollywood movie script.

"Please keep yourself safe in that school," Mr. Wilmer cautioned.

"I will, you don't have to worry," I affirmed before hanging up.

I checked the time and noted I still had about an hour and a half until the meet-up. Having already freshened up immediately after returning from school, I had plenty of time to choose an outfit. I sifted through my clothes and picked out my favorite brown dress. It used to be long when my sister bought it for me two years ago, but now it barely reached my knees.

As I stood before the mirror, indulging in a few spritzes of perfume, a sharp knock on my door caused my heart to skip a beat.

It was fifteen minutes past five in the evening. Who could it be?

Quickly, I hid a pen behind me and edged closer to the door. "Who's there?" I demanded.

"It's housekeeping. May I come in?" a female voice responded from the other side.

Housekeeping in the evening? Everything felt out of place in Bel-Air.

I sighed. "No, everything is fine here, thank you."

"Alright, have a good evening, Miss," the cleaner acknowledged before withdrawing.

I smoothed down my hair, slung my black petite bag over my shoulder, and exited the room, locking the door behind me.

Descending the stairs to the first floor of the building I lived in, I overheard two women in cleaning uniforms gossiping about me.

"Look at her," one remarked, pointing her finger at me. "I can tell she's from a wealthy family, attending that big school. But, why does she live alone?"

"I've wondered the same thing. What kind of parent lets their teenage daughter live solo in a hotel?" the other cleaner mused.

Cleaner 1 added, "What's even more intriguing is that she never allows housekeeping into her room."

To which Cleaner 2 responded, "That reminds me, I once saw a man in a black suit leaving her room. I assumed he was her father, but the way he walked seemed like he was trying to hide himself."

I shot them a disapproving look, letting them know their voices were loud enough for me to hear clearly. So, what if I chose to lodge at a hotel as a student? What was the harm in that? I had my own reasons, my own motives, and they were none of their business.

Opening the Uber app on my phone, I ordered a ride to pick me up in front of the hotel. The app indicated that the car would pick me up in five minutes. But after waiting for a whole twenty minutes, the Uber driver cancelled my order without any explanation.

I found myself envying the students who had cars. If I had my own vehicle, I wouldn't have to deal with unreliable drivers.

Left with no other option, I stowed my phone in my bag and started walking, one step after another, until I eventually turned right onto the main road.

My phone vibrated in my bag as I walked. I retrieved it to find a text from Gideon. He explained why he didn't answer my calls, and I quickly typed a reply to fill him in on why I had called him before putting it back into my bag.

The sidewalks, flanked by opulent homes lining the streets, exuded an air of grandeur under the glow of the streetlights. My gaze fell upon a group of four boys loitering nearby, and a wave of unease washed over me. Though I couldn't pinpoint why, I had a gut feeling that they were up to no good.

One of them crossed my path and looked into my eyes. "Hi, beautiful," he said.

His actions reminded me of Jayden, but the only difference was the face. Jayden was much better than him.

The other three closed in around him, forming a tight circle that enveloped me in the center.

The sky grew darker and darker around me. It felt as though I was being swallowed whole. Desperate, I prayed for a miracle. "Help me, Lord, help me," I muttered, only to be met with laughter from the guys.

Out of nowhere, the piercing beam of a car's headlights sliced through the darkness, its wailing sound adding to the tension in the air. My eyes throbbed painfully against the sudden brightness. The four guys approached the car, stretching their bodies as if they were gearing up for a boxing match. As they closed in, I strained to see the driver through the rolled-down tinted window, but all I could discern was a bandana.

"We're your fans!" the four guys yelled in excitement, as if they had just seen Taylor Swift.

"You're my star, Jayden Scott!" one of them exclaimed.

Jayden Scott? The same person who had attempted to harass me in the school basement? Was he now the savior sent by the Lord to rescue me?

Jayden waved at me with his hand sporting a Rolex watch, motioning for me to get into his car after the four guys had left. He looked more handsome than he did in his school uniform, with a bandana stylishly tucked under his dreadlocks.

At a young age, he was driving a Mercedes-Benz. Seeing someone his age behind the wheel of such a car made me wonder if he had anything to worry about.

I hesitated, pretending I didn't need his free ride. Deep down, though, I did. We were going to the same place, so why not? I had to maintain my pride.

He started counting down on his fingers, a silent reminder for me to make a decision about joining him in his car.