“So, what, your parents give you a girl name like Isabel or something? You can stop looking so smug. I’ll do your damn homework. I give up. What is it?”
“Isobel.”
I scowl, certain he’s making fun of me.
“Yeah right.”
He lifts his shoulders in surrender, still smirking.
“I’m serious. My parents were expecting a girl ‘cause of a smudge on the ultrasound or whatever. When I was born, my mom, high on pain meds, didn’t hear them say I’m a guy. So when they asked for a name, Isobel ended up on my birth certificate. Everyone kinda still thought I was a girl until they brought me home and dad changed my diaper. By then it was too late. But uh—it’s still better to be Izzy at school.”
For what feels like a full minute, I can’t think of anything to say in response. Why would he tell me? Why not lie? I could use this against him so easily. On top of which, he lost the bet and has to give me even more ammunition. It feels like a trap. Sensing my unease, he offers up a compromise.
“Tell you what. You weren’t totally right, since my name’s spelled with an ‘O’ and you probably thought it was an ‘A’. So here’s what we’ll do. I’ll give you a minor secret, and you only have to do my homework for a month.”
“Two weeks.”
“Deal.”
We shake again, my nerves calming. If we ever get out of here, two weeks of putting up with him is a much better prospect than the thought of the next six months. If we ever get out. Nervous again, I check the time on my phone. 11:01. Then it gives a sad little blip and dies completely, the screen going black. I forgot to charge it before I left the apartment this morning.
“Here’s one—” Izzy says, bringing my attention back to him, “I lied earlier. I don’t actually have a phone. I like pretending I do so I won’t get weird looks, but I don’t.”
I can’t help but laugh. It seems such a ridiculous concern after hearing what his full name is. If it were me, I’d be a lot more worried about that getting out than the fact that I don’t have a phone. He scowls, offended, and starts doodling on his hand again.
“Hey, I’m not making fun of you. I just—here, I’ll tell you something about me so we’re even, okay?”
Pacified, he caps the marker and waits semi-patiently while I try to think of something. His foot taps a rhythm to a silent tune, his fingers dancing on his knee. Everything about him is fidgety, restless.
“I can’t swim.” I admit at last. “And I’m really ashamed of it. Every time I get invited to a pool party, I say I’ll go and then I get mysteriously sick the day of the party and I can’t make it.”
Izzy’s smile returns. He nods, satisfied.
“Alright. I guess we’re even. Come on. I’m bored enough. Where’s that card deck?”
Relieved, I upend the contents of my purse and sift through the mess to find the pack. He beats me twice at Rummy, but I hold my own well enough at War and Slap Jack. A desperate attempt at Go Fish ends in a surprising tie. After that, we run out of games and motivation, settling back into our original silence. I’ve lost track of time entirely by now, though I think it might be close to 12:30. I doze awhile and wake hungry. Izzy must have slept too because his hair is tousled, his eyelids heavy when our eyes meet. He yawns widely as he pulls himself up to sit straighter.
“I really need to pee.” He complains, puffing out his cheeks in annoyance. I look away, my face suddenly warm with embarrassment. I hadn’t considered that particular problem.
“Wanna play Truth or Dare? I mean, technically, we’ve already started.” He says after a while, changing the subject. I shake my head vehemently.
“Hell no. It always goes wrong. Besides, what are you gonna dare me to do in such a small space? Bash my head against the wall? Do a handstand?”
He shrugs, clearly bored. I am too, even if I don’t want him to see it. My stomach growls audibly, making him smile. In the pile of the contents of my purse, I find an ancient granola bar and a half-empty ziplock of stale goldfish. I don’t expect him to accept when I hand him half the bar, but he must be as hungry as I am because he takes it without the slightest bit of sarcasm to accompany the gesture. We split the crackers, too, eating in silence, lost in our own thoughts. Izzy breaks it with a groan.
“Dude, I’m sorry, I seriously need to pee. I’ll let you choose the corner if you want, but I can’t hold it much longer.”
I point to the one furthest from me, turning my back quickly as he gets to his feet. The smell is bad, but thankfully not as awful as I expected. As long as we’re rescued sooner rather than later we should be alright.
“I won’t look either if you need to use the pee corner.” Izzy mumbles, awkward as he sits next to me, as far from the spot as he can get. His knee knocks against mine. I flinch away, still uncomfortable with this new closeness. I can’t say we’re friends, and I can’t say we’re not. At least we aren’t enemies anymore. If he notices my reaction he says nothing about it. He squints up at the ceiling, thinking. In movies, they always escape through a hatch at the top. Izzy, taller than me, tried to reach it in between two games of War, but it’s screwed in too tight.
“I spy with my little eye—something—blue.”
I stifle a giggle, surprised. It’s the last game I would I would have thought to play in here.
“Is it—the lightbulb? It’s got kind of a bluish tinge.”
“Too obvious, Beatrice. I’m not gonna go easy on you. Just ‘cause you’re a girl …”
I roll my eyes and smack his shoulder, not nearly as annoyed by the blatant sexism as I should be. He must be growing on me in spite of everything.
“Mmkay. So is it that glob of paint in the corner over there?"
He shakes his head.
“Give up?”
“Sure.”
Izzy points, “Somehow, someone got gum stuck on the light. I can’t actually tell if it’s blue or green though, so maybe it shouldn’t count.”
It takes me a minute to find it even with his help. I have to admit it was clever of him.
“I’ll let it slide. Well spotted. My turn. Let’s see. I—spy—with my little eye—something—”
I cast around for an idea.
“Something—oh, something grey.”
He leans his head back against the wall, searching. Another yawn interrupts, this one contagious. Without meaning to, we pass it back and forth a few times, yawning each time the other does. On the 3rd round, he pushes my head away so he won’t see it.
“Cut it out.” He laughs. “I can’t look for your grey thing under this much pressure.”
I shove him back without qualm, giggling stupidly in spite of myself.
“It’s your shoelace, Sherlock. You never looked down.”
He puts a hand over his heart, grievously wounded by my lack of faith in his ‘I-Spy’ abilities.
“Curses! I was on the verge of revealing my intimate knowledge of shoelaces, too. Cheater. You stole my victory without leaving me a single chance. Not one measly little guess.”
Izzy clicks his tongue in mock annoyance, punching my shoulder again. I don’t retaliate this time, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of exhaustion. My head hurts, and I miss my bed. If it were anyone but Izzy I could use their shoulder as a pillow. I’m not comfortable enough with him. Not yet. Maybe I could forgive him if I could remember what it is I’m supposed to be so mad about.
“Hey, Izzy?”
“Yeah?”
I hesitate, then launch into my question,
“What happened between us? We used to be okay, didn’t we?”
He takes his time answering, mulling it over. His owl eyes are sad even though his mouth is still smiling.
“Yeah. We used to be. Then I beat you out for that part in the 3rd grade play and—there was that whole thing between your dad and mine. Maybe yours said something. I know mine did. Couldn’t stand you after, and it was obviously mutual, so—”
Izzy stops, taking a deep breath. Whatever memory I stirred up is a painful one. I shouldn’t pry, but I have to know. I can’t hate him just for a stupid play. It’s starting to come back to me a little. I wanted to be a talking tree, I think, and ended up a rock with no lines. Bitterness, it seems, knows no boundaries.
“What whole thing between our dads? I don’t remember that.”
The light overhead flickers dangerously, casting odd shadows. We both watch it anxiously for a minute. Thankfully it stays lit. I take a deep breath.
“Wanna know another secret?”
I don’t wait for him to answer, continuing quickly before I can change my mind.
“I’m really scared of the dark. No joke. I still sleep with a nightlight. A little one. But still.”
My companion doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t mock me for the revelation or call me a child. Instead, he pats my head awkwardly, still watching the light.
“I am too.” He admits. It makes me feel a bit better. Not so alone.
“You should get some sleep, Beatrice. I’ll wake you up if anything happens.”
Tired as I am, I resist the urge to give in to his suggestion. I have to know.
“Tell me about our dads, first, Isobel. You don’t have to go into detail or anything, but I need the facts. Please.”
The use of his full name makes him smile. He avoids eye-contact though as he starts to talk, his voice heavy with the weight of his words. It gets lighter as he goes on, as if talking lightens the load.
“It was right after the play problem. You already weren’t talking to me. My older brother got into a lot of trouble. Stuff got planted on him, or so he claimed when he got busted with it. Your dad was all set up to defend him, being a friend of the family and all.”
He pauses, swallowing. I get the feeling he’s nervous about the next part, as if it might destroy the little friendship we’ve rebuilt.
“Then my brother, idiot that he is, named someone close to your dad. An uncle, I think, or a sibling. Your dad didn’t want to go against family. He dropped the case. They only gave my brother community service, but the damage was done. My dad never forgave yours. He told us to stay away from your family at all costs. And that’s it. I hated you because I was told to. I bet it’s the same on your end, even if you don’t remember.”
He rubs his nose in discomfort, waiting for my reply.
“Well that’s just ridiculous.”
Izzy starts in surprise, staring at me. Whatever he expected, it wasn’t that. I brush a few loose strands of hair out of my eyes, pursing my lips.
“This is stupid. I’m not gonna hate someone just because my family does. If anything, I’m a lot more upset about the play. I deserved to be a tree. You can’t even sing.”
“Neither can you.”
We laugh, relaxing completely for the first time since we got locked in here. It’s a good feeling, making a new friend out of an old enemy.
I wake to find us still trapped some time later. Unable to hold it any longer, I push away from the gently snoring Izzy and do what I have to in the pee corner. It’s really starting to smell by now. I don’t linger, hurrying back to my spot. As a reflex, I push the red emergency button on my way past, not really hoping for anything. There’s a sound like a thread snapping, and the world goes black. Fear clenches my gut, making me dizzy. I want to throw up. My lungs seize. My feet are rooted to the ground. I close my eyes and open them. There’s no difference. Oh God. Someone help me. Why are all my worst nightmares coming true today? Next, Izzy will vanish and I’ll be left all alone in the dark. Oh God. Please no. Panic sends my heart ricocheting in my chest with a frantic beat.
“Izzy?”
My voice comes out a rasping whisper, barely audible. There’s no answer. Tears burn my eyes. What if he’s gone? What if he’s found a way out and left me behind? Part of me knows that’s not a rational thought, but the rest doesn’t care.
“Izzy!” I half sob, half scream.
“Here! I’m here. Just—walk toward me.”
Relief, hot as a warm shower on a winter day, floods me to the tips of my toes. He sounds scared too, which I find oddly comforting. Gathering what’s left of my courage, I sprint the short distance necessary to close the gap between us, grasping the proffered hands gratefully. He wraps a tentative arm around my shoulders, pulling me close when I don’t protest. His hands are shaking as badly as mine.
“We’ll be alright. We’ll be fine. They’ll come get us soon. They have to.”
Over and over he repeats it, until we’ve both calmed enough to believe it. I don’t know how to thank him for it. My heart has just begun to slow to its normal rate when a tremendous shudder shakes our little box. There’s no mistaking the sound of cable snapping. I scream as we drop several feet, jerking to a merciful, if lurching, halt.
“What—the hell—was that?” Izzy chokes, finding his voice.
“I don’t know. But it—it better not—happen again.”
The world goes eerily still. We can hear creaking as the old box strains against gravity’s pull, then nothing. Time crawls by. Neither of us dares move or speak for fear of making the situation worse than it already is. I bury my head between my knees and try to steady my breathing. It’s probably not half as bad as my imagination makes it out to be. I bet we’ve only been trapped a few hours. Four at the most. Time is funny that way. We think it’s been an eternity, when really, it’s not so bad.
“You awake?” Izzy whispers.
“Yeah. I think so.”
A pause. Then,
“Still don’t wanna play Truth or Dare?”
I’d laugh if I wasn’t so scared. A loud bang from the ceiling makes us both jump. The hatch we so desperately wanted to open drops to the floor with a crash.
“Hello?” a strange voice calls, “Anybody in here?”
The beam of a flashlight illuminates Izzy’s stunned face. For an instant we don’t dare move, don’t dare believe it. Then we leap to our feet, waving and shouting like maniacs. I could cry I’m so happy. The beam retreats, and I’m so relieved I don’t think twice. Estimating where Izzy’s cheek would be, I land a kiss, missing and hitting his nose instead. He stutters a vague attempt at a response before being interrupted by our rescuer.
“Hold tight! We’re going to get you out as soon as possible. Is anyone injured?”
I grin so hard it hurts.
“Just some bruised egos and an offended sense of smell. We’re really thirsty, too. Can you send water?” I call, earning a chuckle from Izzy. The light retreats again.
“Hey Beatrice?” Izzy whispers, his words sounding rushed.
“What, Isobel?”
“What happened in the elevator stays in the elevator. Deal?”
“Deal."
Who’d believe the half of it anyway?”
After an unbearable few minutes, a basket with water bottles, graham crackers, and two flashlights, is lowered down to us on a rope. We split the loot evenly, the water a sweet rush of life down my throat.
The next two hours are the longest of my life. It takes the adults ages and a couple thousand questions to figure out who we are and how to get us out in one piece. We’re told several dozen times over not to move too much, as the cables are beyond rusted and highly unstable. As if we hadn’t realized that on our own.
It’s 10:00 am by the time they send a harness to lift us up. I stumble into the glaring brightness of day, excruciating after so long in total darkness, and am swept apart from Izzy by a crowd of worried relatives.
“Hey Beatrice!” he shouts over the noise of the crowd. I have to crane my neck to catch a glimpse of his lanky form.
“Yeah?”
He grins, cocky to the end.
“I’ll see you around.”
I barely have time to wave before he disappears under a flood of eager reporters.
“See you around.” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else.
“But next time, let’s take the stairs.”
The End
“Isobel.”
I scowl, certain he’s making fun of me.
“Yeah right.”
He lifts his shoulders in surrender, still smirking.
“I’m serious. My parents were expecting a girl ‘cause of a smudge on the ultrasound or whatever. When I was born, my mom, high on pain meds, didn’t hear them say I’m a guy. So when they asked for a name, Isobel ended up on my birth certificate. Everyone kinda still thought I was a girl until they brought me home and dad changed my diaper. By then it was too late. But uh—it’s still better to be Izzy at school.”
For what feels like a full minute, I can’t think of anything to say in response. Why would he tell me? Why not lie? I could use this against him so easily. On top of which, he lost the bet and has to give me even more ammunition. It feels like a trap. Sensing my unease, he offers up a compromise.
“Tell you what. You weren’t totally right, since my name’s spelled with an ‘O’ and you probably thought it was an ‘A’. So here’s what we’ll do. I’ll give you a minor secret, and you only have to do my homework for a month.”
“Two weeks.”
“Deal.”
We shake again, my nerves calming. If we ever get out of here, two weeks of putting up with him is a much better prospect than the thought of the next six months. If we ever get out. Nervous again, I check the time on my phone. 11:01. Then it gives a sad little blip and dies completely, the screen going black. I forgot to charge it before I left the apartment this morning.
“Here’s one—” Izzy says, bringing my attention back to him, “I lied earlier. I don’t actually have a phone. I like pretending I do so I won’t get weird looks, but I don’t.”
I can’t help but laugh. It seems such a ridiculous concern after hearing what his full name is. If it were me, I’d be a lot more worried about that getting out than the fact that I don’t have a phone. He scowls, offended, and starts doodling on his hand again.
“Hey, I’m not making fun of you. I just—here, I’ll tell you something about me so we’re even, okay?”
Pacified, he caps the marker and waits semi-patiently while I try to think of something. His foot taps a rhythm to a silent tune, his fingers dancing on his knee. Everything about him is fidgety, restless.
“I can’t swim.” I admit at last. “And I’m really ashamed of it. Every time I get invited to a pool party, I say I’ll go and then I get mysteriously sick the day of the party and I can’t make it.”
Izzy’s smile returns. He nods, satisfied.
“Alright. I guess we’re even. Come on. I’m bored enough. Where’s that card deck?”
Relieved, I upend the contents of my purse and sift through the mess to find the pack. He beats me twice at Rummy, but I hold my own well enough at War and Slap Jack. A desperate attempt at Go Fish ends in a surprising tie. After that, we run out of games and motivation, settling back into our original silence. I’ve lost track of time entirely by now, though I think it might be close to 12:30. I doze awhile and wake hungry. Izzy must have slept too because his hair is tousled, his eyelids heavy when our eyes meet. He yawns widely as he pulls himself up to sit straighter.
“I really need to pee.” He complains, puffing out his cheeks in annoyance. I look away, my face suddenly warm with embarrassment. I hadn’t considered that particular problem.
“Wanna play Truth or Dare? I mean, technically, we’ve already started.” He says after a while, changing the subject. I shake my head vehemently.
“Hell no. It always goes wrong. Besides, what are you gonna dare me to do in such a small space? Bash my head against the wall? Do a handstand?”
He shrugs, clearly bored. I am too, even if I don’t want him to see it. My stomach growls audibly, making him smile. In the pile of the contents of my purse, I find an ancient granola bar and a half-empty ziplock of stale goldfish. I don’t expect him to accept when I hand him half the bar, but he must be as hungry as I am because he takes it without the slightest bit of sarcasm to accompany the gesture. We split the crackers, too, eating in silence, lost in our own thoughts. Izzy breaks it with a groan.
“Dude, I’m sorry, I seriously need to pee. I’ll let you choose the corner if you want, but I can’t hold it much longer.”
I point to the one furthest from me, turning my back quickly as he gets to his feet. The smell is bad, but thankfully not as awful as I expected. As long as we’re rescued sooner rather than later we should be alright.
“I won’t look either if you need to use the pee corner.” Izzy mumbles, awkward as he sits next to me, as far from the spot as he can get. His knee knocks against mine. I flinch away, still uncomfortable with this new closeness. I can’t say we’re friends, and I can’t say we’re not. At least we aren’t enemies anymore. If he notices my reaction he says nothing about it. He squints up at the ceiling, thinking. In movies, they always escape through a hatch at the top. Izzy, taller than me, tried to reach it in between two games of War, but it’s screwed in too tight.
“I spy with my little eye—something—blue.”
I stifle a giggle, surprised. It’s the last game I would I would have thought to play in here.
“Is it—the lightbulb? It’s got kind of a bluish tinge.”
“Too obvious, Beatrice. I’m not gonna go easy on you. Just ‘cause you’re a girl …”
I roll my eyes and smack his shoulder, not nearly as annoyed by the blatant sexism as I should be. He must be growing on me in spite of everything.
“Mmkay. So is it that glob of paint in the corner over there?"
He shakes his head.
“Give up?”
“Sure.”
Izzy points, “Somehow, someone got gum stuck on the light. I can’t actually tell if it’s blue or green though, so maybe it shouldn’t count.”
It takes me a minute to find it even with his help. I have to admit it was clever of him.
“I’ll let it slide. Well spotted. My turn. Let’s see. I—spy—with my little eye—something—”
I cast around for an idea.
“Something—oh, something grey.”
He leans his head back against the wall, searching. Another yawn interrupts, this one contagious. Without meaning to, we pass it back and forth a few times, yawning each time the other does. On the 3rd round, he pushes my head away so he won’t see it.
“Cut it out.” He laughs. “I can’t look for your grey thing under this much pressure.”
I shove him back without qualm, giggling stupidly in spite of myself.
“It’s your shoelace, Sherlock. You never looked down.”
He puts a hand over his heart, grievously wounded by my lack of faith in his ‘I-Spy’ abilities.
“Curses! I was on the verge of revealing my intimate knowledge of shoelaces, too. Cheater. You stole my victory without leaving me a single chance. Not one measly little guess.”
Izzy clicks his tongue in mock annoyance, punching my shoulder again. I don’t retaliate this time, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of exhaustion. My head hurts, and I miss my bed. If it were anyone but Izzy I could use their shoulder as a pillow. I’m not comfortable enough with him. Not yet. Maybe I could forgive him if I could remember what it is I’m supposed to be so mad about.
“Hey, Izzy?”
“Yeah?”
I hesitate, then launch into my question,
“What happened between us? We used to be okay, didn’t we?”
He takes his time answering, mulling it over. His owl eyes are sad even though his mouth is still smiling.
“Yeah. We used to be. Then I beat you out for that part in the 3rd grade play and—there was that whole thing between your dad and mine. Maybe yours said something. I know mine did. Couldn’t stand you after, and it was obviously mutual, so—”
Izzy stops, taking a deep breath. Whatever memory I stirred up is a painful one. I shouldn’t pry, but I have to know. I can’t hate him just for a stupid play. It’s starting to come back to me a little. I wanted to be a talking tree, I think, and ended up a rock with no lines. Bitterness, it seems, knows no boundaries.
“What whole thing between our dads? I don’t remember that.”
The light overhead flickers dangerously, casting odd shadows. We both watch it anxiously for a minute. Thankfully it stays lit. I take a deep breath.
“Wanna know another secret?”
I don’t wait for him to answer, continuing quickly before I can change my mind.
“I’m really scared of the dark. No joke. I still sleep with a nightlight. A little one. But still.”
My companion doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t mock me for the revelation or call me a child. Instead, he pats my head awkwardly, still watching the light.
“I am too.” He admits. It makes me feel a bit better. Not so alone.
“You should get some sleep, Beatrice. I’ll wake you up if anything happens.”
Tired as I am, I resist the urge to give in to his suggestion. I have to know.
“Tell me about our dads, first, Isobel. You don’t have to go into detail or anything, but I need the facts. Please.”
The use of his full name makes him smile. He avoids eye-contact though as he starts to talk, his voice heavy with the weight of his words. It gets lighter as he goes on, as if talking lightens the load.
“It was right after the play problem. You already weren’t talking to me. My older brother got into a lot of trouble. Stuff got planted on him, or so he claimed when he got busted with it. Your dad was all set up to defend him, being a friend of the family and all.”
He pauses, swallowing. I get the feeling he’s nervous about the next part, as if it might destroy the little friendship we’ve rebuilt.
“Then my brother, idiot that he is, named someone close to your dad. An uncle, I think, or a sibling. Your dad didn’t want to go against family. He dropped the case. They only gave my brother community service, but the damage was done. My dad never forgave yours. He told us to stay away from your family at all costs. And that’s it. I hated you because I was told to. I bet it’s the same on your end, even if you don’t remember.”
He rubs his nose in discomfort, waiting for my reply.
“Well that’s just ridiculous.”
Izzy starts in surprise, staring at me. Whatever he expected, it wasn’t that. I brush a few loose strands of hair out of my eyes, pursing my lips.
“This is stupid. I’m not gonna hate someone just because my family does. If anything, I’m a lot more upset about the play. I deserved to be a tree. You can’t even sing.”
“Neither can you.”
We laugh, relaxing completely for the first time since we got locked in here. It’s a good feeling, making a new friend out of an old enemy.
I wake to find us still trapped some time later. Unable to hold it any longer, I push away from the gently snoring Izzy and do what I have to in the pee corner. It’s really starting to smell by now. I don’t linger, hurrying back to my spot. As a reflex, I push the red emergency button on my way past, not really hoping for anything. There’s a sound like a thread snapping, and the world goes black. Fear clenches my gut, making me dizzy. I want to throw up. My lungs seize. My feet are rooted to the ground. I close my eyes and open them. There’s no difference. Oh God. Someone help me. Why are all my worst nightmares coming true today? Next, Izzy will vanish and I’ll be left all alone in the dark. Oh God. Please no. Panic sends my heart ricocheting in my chest with a frantic beat.
“Izzy?”
My voice comes out a rasping whisper, barely audible. There’s no answer. Tears burn my eyes. What if he’s gone? What if he’s found a way out and left me behind? Part of me knows that’s not a rational thought, but the rest doesn’t care.
“Izzy!” I half sob, half scream.
“Here! I’m here. Just—walk toward me.”
Relief, hot as a warm shower on a winter day, floods me to the tips of my toes. He sounds scared too, which I find oddly comforting. Gathering what’s left of my courage, I sprint the short distance necessary to close the gap between us, grasping the proffered hands gratefully. He wraps a tentative arm around my shoulders, pulling me close when I don’t protest. His hands are shaking as badly as mine.
“We’ll be alright. We’ll be fine. They’ll come get us soon. They have to.”
Over and over he repeats it, until we’ve both calmed enough to believe it. I don’t know how to thank him for it. My heart has just begun to slow to its normal rate when a tremendous shudder shakes our little box. There’s no mistaking the sound of cable snapping. I scream as we drop several feet, jerking to a merciful, if lurching, halt.
“What—the hell—was that?” Izzy chokes, finding his voice.
“I don’t know. But it—it better not—happen again.”
The world goes eerily still. We can hear creaking as the old box strains against gravity’s pull, then nothing. Time crawls by. Neither of us dares move or speak for fear of making the situation worse than it already is. I bury my head between my knees and try to steady my breathing. It’s probably not half as bad as my imagination makes it out to be. I bet we’ve only been trapped a few hours. Four at the most. Time is funny that way. We think it’s been an eternity, when really, it’s not so bad.
“You awake?” Izzy whispers.
“Yeah. I think so.”
A pause. Then,
“Still don’t wanna play Truth or Dare?”
I’d laugh if I wasn’t so scared. A loud bang from the ceiling makes us both jump. The hatch we so desperately wanted to open drops to the floor with a crash.
“Hello?” a strange voice calls, “Anybody in here?”
The beam of a flashlight illuminates Izzy’s stunned face. For an instant we don’t dare move, don’t dare believe it. Then we leap to our feet, waving and shouting like maniacs. I could cry I’m so happy. The beam retreats, and I’m so relieved I don’t think twice. Estimating where Izzy’s cheek would be, I land a kiss, missing and hitting his nose instead. He stutters a vague attempt at a response before being interrupted by our rescuer.
“Hold tight! We’re going to get you out as soon as possible. Is anyone injured?”
I grin so hard it hurts.
“Just some bruised egos and an offended sense of smell. We’re really thirsty, too. Can you send water?” I call, earning a chuckle from Izzy. The light retreats again.
“Hey Beatrice?” Izzy whispers, his words sounding rushed.
“What, Isobel?”
“What happened in the elevator stays in the elevator. Deal?”
“Deal."
Who’d believe the half of it anyway?”
After an unbearable few minutes, a basket with water bottles, graham crackers, and two flashlights, is lowered down to us on a rope. We split the loot evenly, the water a sweet rush of life down my throat.
The next two hours are the longest of my life. It takes the adults ages and a couple thousand questions to figure out who we are and how to get us out in one piece. We’re told several dozen times over not to move too much, as the cables are beyond rusted and highly unstable. As if we hadn’t realized that on our own.
It’s 10:00 am by the time they send a harness to lift us up. I stumble into the glaring brightness of day, excruciating after so long in total darkness, and am swept apart from Izzy by a crowd of worried relatives.
“Hey Beatrice!” he shouts over the noise of the crowd. I have to crane my neck to catch a glimpse of his lanky form.
“Yeah?”
He grins, cocky to the end.
“I’ll see you around.”
I barely have time to wave before he disappears under a flood of eager reporters.
“See you around.” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else.
“But next time, let’s take the stairs.”
The End