The Disappearance Of Sloane Sullivan. Gia Cribbs

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       Prologue

      I couldn’t shake the feeling of someone watching me.

      Dropping the blindfold, I kicked away the ropes by my feet that, a few seconds earlier, had been wrapped a little too loosely around my wrists to keep me bound.

      I couldn’t see a thing.

      Thunder crashed, making something metallic sounding rattle to my right. I held my breath and waited for a flash of lightning to illuminate the pitch-black room, anything to give me a clue about where I was. But when I heard more thunder a minute later, my heart sank. There are no windows in this room.

      My pulse raced. I had to get out and I didn’t have much time.

      Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to concentrate, to ignore what I was feeling, and picture every windowless room in the school. The clean, slightly antiseptic edge to the air didn’t smell like the gym locker room. The kitchen? I inched toward the metallic rattling, arms braced in front of me. Even through my gloves, the metal shelves felt cool when my fingers brushed against them, feeling the buckets and sponges and spray bottles lined up along their edges. The supply closet.

      I followed the shelving around the room until I came to the door. Without a sound, I eased it open slightly. After a few seconds of blinking furiously at the light that came pouring in, I could see well enough to tell the hallway was empty.

      I glanced at the rooms directly across from me. Almost all the classrooms had windows, but most were too high and too small for me to fit through. There were side doors at the end of the hall to the left, a good two hundred feet away. Those doors were the closest exit, but making a run for it down the bright hall, even if the lights were dimmed at night, seemed too risky. I needed to stick to the shadows. Which left the only other way out of this part of the school: the gym.

      I inched the supply closet door open farther and slid out, stepping over the rags that had been stuffed under the door to block the light. In only three steps I was in the chemistry lab, the one with doors to two different hallways. I dashed across the dark lab, careful not to bump into anything, and was about to step into the hall that led to the gym when everything went completely dark.

      I was out of time.

      I raced into the hall, willing my outstretched hands to find the gym entrance. Just as one hand skimmed the smooth metal gym door, something behind me squeaked. It was a quick, barely there sound. But it was also immediately identifiable: a sneaker skidding against the floor.

      I froze.

      The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face, but I could feel him closing in.

      I shoved my hand into my pocket and pulled out a handful of pebbles—the only thing I’d been able to grab outside—and threw them down the hall. At the tiny plink of stone meeting linoleum, I crept in the opposite direction.

      My fingers trailed along the wall, telling me where to turn. As I rounded the corner, an explosive flash of lightning lit up the entire hall. I peeked over my shoulder and saw him kneeling, picking a pebble off the floor. His head was just turning in my direction when the hall went dark again and thunder rattled the windowpanes.

      I ran.

      A full-on sprint around another corner to the side doors I’d seen earlier. I couldn’t hear whether he was chasing me over the sound of my feet pounding against the floor and my heartbeat thumping in my ears. Where are the damn doors—

      I burst through the double doors with such force they slammed against the brick wall of the school before swinging shut. I took in everything: the trees straight ahead, dense and good for hiding; the sound of a car passing on a nearby street; the lights from a house off in the distance, blurry from the rain. I allowed myself a single second to smile before I reached down and clicked the stopwatch hanging from my neck.

      When Mark finally pushed through the doors thirty seconds later, his brown hair escaping from under his black hat and his hazel eyes searching franticly, I was leaning against the brick wall, using the roof’s overhang to keep dry. I cocked an eyebrow when his surprised gaze landed on me.

      He sighed and nodded at my stopwatch. “What was your time?”

      “Three minutes, sixteen seconds. A new record.” I fought hard to keep a grin off my face.

      “Hmph.”

      “Don’t be a poor sport.” There was something about his hat that made him look older, more his age and less the college student he was sometimes mistaken for. I yanked it off in one swift move, leaving his hair wild with static. “You’ve caught me more times than I’ve gotten out. Remember Nebraska? You trapped me in the band room in a minute flat.”

      The corners of Mark’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, but that was when you were young and easy to trick. Now you’re almost too good. I mean, pebbles? That was a nice touch.”

      “If it makes you feel better, you almost got me with the blackout. How’d you manage that one?”

      His smile grew wider. “Light switches in the front office.”

      I shook my head. “Did you have to use all of them?”

      Mark’s eyes locked on mine, more serious than they’d been a second before. “Lesson number one.”

      My smile faltered. It was easy to joke around, to pretend it was only a game, especially this time. But we both knew it wasn’t.

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