[Weird name, that's what's on her obituary. Picturing this as she fears for her life.]
Jane clutched her leg and bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain.
Her friend, Jessie, was panicked enough without adding four-letter words
to the mix. It had been stupid of them to think that they could skip
third period without consequence. They had spent weeks planning this
day, but deep down Jane knew that they couldn't get away with it. They'd
made extensive plans to ensure Jessie's sister's rusty sedan was
available for their escapade and its owner far away on a field trip to
the city. They'd brought changes of clothes (even their swimsuits, just
in case Mother Nature decided to gift them with a preview of summer by
the lake). They'd packed enough food to feed half the football team
(because who could say for sure which of three sandwiches they'd be
craving at the end of their long day). But they hadn't anticipated any broken bones.
Nor had they fully considered the double-edged sword of an escape from
civilization -- their phones were merely expensive paperweights this far
into the woods. As she watched her friend generate new phrases to
express her escalating frustration and anxiety, Jane knew that she would
have to take matters into her own hands. She winced as she manually
extended her injured limb and braced herself for the pain that would
come as she dragged herself back to the car -- once their savior from a
boring day of school, now the symbol for their failure -- forever linked
to torment.
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