TWENTY-SEVEN
Neive
I’ve tried him twice now but no answer. I need to get out of here.
This is stupid.
I don’t know these girls well. They are nice enough but I need to leave.
I want to be home. I didn’t even want to come but Uncle Elton looked so excited for me when I said I had been invited to stay round Nova’s house.
I couldn’t let him down. Bet he thought his loser niece is finally starting to make friends.
Nova and Lila have been nice to me since I started at Westbourne Academy, they are the first real friends I’ve had.
I try to call him again.
He said he would pick me up if I wanted to go home, and I want to go home.
I feel like a bit of an idiot, but the minute they pulled out a bottle of gin Lila had taken from her parents’ cupboard, I had to leave.
I can’t drink, I’m thirteen. And, well, Mum.
Nova’s dad was downstairs, no way I was going to get in trouble because of Lila and Nova. I told them I needed to go, grabbed my bag and left, without much explanation. I may have just lost a few new friends but if they like me, they’ll stick around.
Now I’m standing outside, down the street from Nova’s house, desperately trying to get hold of Elton. I didn’t want them to see me standing at the end of her drive so I moved down the road, out of sight. Uncle Elton won’t like it, but he shouldn’t have made me go in the first place.
A car drives round the corner at a snail’s pace and pulls up next to me. The window rolls down. Unease fills me instantly. My eyes dart around. I’m alone, it’s late, no one knows where I am. These aren’t good circumstances.
A man leans out the window, arm hanging out as he flicks a cigarette onto the grass in front of me.
“Hey darling, need a ride?” the creepy perv asks. A shiver runs up my spine, chilling me to the bone.
White male, oldish – older than me, younger than Uncle Elton.
It’s a huge age range, but it’s better than nothing.
Brown eyes, black baseball cap. Brown tacky leather jacket.
Not sure why I take note of these details, but something tells me they are important.
Mum always says if it feels weird then it’s weird.
“No thank you, my uncle is picking me up. He’ll be here soon.” I turn away from him, praying he’ll hear an adult is on the way and leave me alone. I open Jeeves’s contact on my phone. He’ll come get me.
As I hit call, two hands grab my shoulder, pulling me backwards into a hard chest. The jolt knocks my phone from my hand, it hits the ground just as Jeeves answers the call.
I scream everything I can see, exactly how he taught me to.
“Black small car. Baseball cap. Shit clothes. Corner of Maple Street. Big bruise on his shin,” I shout as I slam my foot behind me, with unwarranted confidence it will hit something of note.
All it earns me is a tighter hold and a hand over my mouth as I’m dragged backwards.
My breath feels hot against his palm as my nails claw against his skin.
I’m shoved into the boot of the car. My brain is fuzzing but I’ve discussed this scenario with Jeeves in great detail.
Stay calm. Look for an escape. Fight like hell.
I take a second to think about the useless information I manage to yell at Jeeves, hoping the call connected. At least I made contact and got out the street I was on. He’ll be able to do something with that. I’ve just got to keep my kidnapper busy until he gets here.
Cause damage. Jeeves’s favourite lessons. Cause as much damage as possible. I’m small and an attacker will always have an advantage over me. But let their arrogance be their downfall. Be smarter than them.
The idiot hasn’t tied me up and also popped me in the boot of a car that is kidnappee friendly, with an easy shove I knock the parcel shelf free.
I’m straight over the back of the seats and out the passenger door, ready to make a run for it.
A white van screeches in front of me, and I trip, crawling across the floor, desperate to get to my phone.
A large boot smashes into the screen, shattering my hopes that Jeeves can follow the tracker he installed after my little runaway attempt.
“You twat, you can’t handle one girl,” a raspy voice whisper-yells as the side door of the van opens.
This time, a much bigger man grabs me and holds me still as the little skinny weirdo wraps tape around my hands and mouth, then I’m shoved into the back of the van.
“She’s like a fucking ninja,” the skinny man says as he checks out the damage I left on his arm.
My chest burns when each ragged breath forces its way out as I make murder eyes at them. They have no idea who my family is and what they will do to them.
“Where’s her phone? Call the bastard and tell him we have his precious niece.”
Okay, maybe they do know who I am. Ransom kidnap, classic.
They’ve forgotten about Jeeves though. The tracker in my phone may be of no use, but Jeeves has skills no one can fully explain.
He’ll find me, I’m not worried. When you have the family I have you don’t worry about stuff like this.
Getting yelled at by Uncle Elton once this is all over though is a different story.
“Her phone is pointless, they’ll track her straight to us,” big ugly guy says, throwing my phone out the window.
While they have a deep argument about their plan, I’m busy picturing all the ways Jeeves is going to make it hurt.