and trying to walk as quickly as Boon was dragging me. We came out the other side of my neighbor’s house; the street here seemed so quiet, so still and normal. But Boon kept pulling me away.
He led me across the street to a car, grabbing the handle and pushing me towards the front.
“ Get in on the other side,” he said; the driver’s door must have been unlocked, because he slid into the front seat and leaned over, unlocking the passenger side. I stood in front of the car, looking at him incredulously.
“ I’m not going to get into a stolen car with you,” I said, loudly.
“ Well, consider it borrowing, then, Samantha, but get the fuck in,” Boon said before his head disappeared; he was leaning under the steering wheel, presumably preparing to hotwire the car. I slammed my hands down on the hood. His head jerked back up.
“ I’m. Not. Stealing. A. Car. We just have to go into any of these houses, someone will be home and we can call the cops,” I said.
“ The cops? Samantha, my dad eats cops for breakfast. And anything they can pin on him, they can pin on me. I can’t call the cops on them, Samantha, I just can’t. They’ll gang up and it’ll be my ass in a cell for seventy years. Please, please, just get in the car,” Boon said, leaning out of the window and looking at me with a mix of fear and determination in his eyes.
I turned back to the house whose yard we had just cut through and nearly pissed myself when I saw motion in the hedges; a tall, leather-clad figure emerged, running across the lawn, and my mind was made up. There really wasn’t time to go door-to-door looking for help. I raced across the car to the passenger side and threw myself in, locking the door.
“ Go, go, go,” I screamed. Boon held a bundle of wires in his hand and I watched him match some up; the engine roared to life and Boon grabbed the wheel, one foot pressed against the pedal. We skidded off down the street and, turning around, I saw one, two, three, five, seven huge figures run out into the street after us. We skidded around a corner, then another; I had no idea where we were going and neither, presumably, did Boon.
“ Where are we going?” I asked, my breath shallow, adrenaline coursing through me.
“ Somewhere safe. Any ideas? This is your town, where can we go?” Boon said, glancing at me quickly. His knuckles were white from clutching the steering wheel, his eyes dancing between the road and me. My mind was racing, but it seemed like I was thinking in gibberish. Nothing really made any sense. I felt tears begin to roll down my face.
I thought, suddenly, inexplicably, that I wished I’d been wearing panties. They were still balled up on my bedroom floor. In my house. Which had been broken into. And probably trashed. Maybe they were in my room right now, tearing my curtains, breaking my picture frames, going through my clothes, they’d see my panties right there on the ground…
The tears began to turn to sobs as my poor little brain began to process the last five minutes. Those five minutes, when I looked back on them, felt like hours.
“ Samantha! Focus! Where can we go? There has to be somewhere!” Boon yelled, reaching out one hand and grabbing my shoulder, squeezing it. Despite everything else, the weight of his hand on me felt calming, sturdy. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes.
My first thought was my aunt’s farmhouse, where my cow and chickens lived, but if the club had been able to find my address, they could certainly find my aunt’s house.
“ The Clamhouse,” I suddenly said, speaking even before the thought was fully formed in my head. “We can go to the Clamhouse.”
“ Okay, okay, what is that, and where is it?” Boon said, squeezing my shoulder again. The Clamhouse was what we all called an abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of town. It was a place where people would sometimes throw parties or bonfires. The origins of the name were murky, but it was common belief that
He led me across the street to a car, grabbing the handle and pushing me towards the front.
“ Get in on the other side,” he said; the driver’s door must have been unlocked, because he slid into the front seat and leaned over, unlocking the passenger side. I stood in front of the car, looking at him incredulously.
“ I’m not going to get into a stolen car with you,” I said, loudly.
“ Well, consider it borrowing, then, Samantha, but get the fuck in,” Boon said before his head disappeared; he was leaning under the steering wheel, presumably preparing to hotwire the car. I slammed my hands down on the hood. His head jerked back up.
“ I’m. Not. Stealing. A. Car. We just have to go into any of these houses, someone will be home and we can call the cops,” I said.
“ The cops? Samantha, my dad eats cops for breakfast. And anything they can pin on him, they can pin on me. I can’t call the cops on them, Samantha, I just can’t. They’ll gang up and it’ll be my ass in a cell for seventy years. Please, please, just get in the car,” Boon said, leaning out of the window and looking at me with a mix of fear and determination in his eyes.
I turned back to the house whose yard we had just cut through and nearly pissed myself when I saw motion in the hedges; a tall, leather-clad figure emerged, running across the lawn, and my mind was made up. There really wasn’t time to go door-to-door looking for help. I raced across the car to the passenger side and threw myself in, locking the door.
“ Go, go, go,” I screamed. Boon held a bundle of wires in his hand and I watched him match some up; the engine roared to life and Boon grabbed the wheel, one foot pressed against the pedal. We skidded off down the street and, turning around, I saw one, two, three, five, seven huge figures run out into the street after us. We skidded around a corner, then another; I had no idea where we were going and neither, presumably, did Boon.
“ Where are we going?” I asked, my breath shallow, adrenaline coursing through me.
“ Somewhere safe. Any ideas? This is your town, where can we go?” Boon said, glancing at me quickly. His knuckles were white from clutching the steering wheel, his eyes dancing between the road and me. My mind was racing, but it seemed like I was thinking in gibberish. Nothing really made any sense. I felt tears begin to roll down my face.
I thought, suddenly, inexplicably, that I wished I’d been wearing panties. They were still balled up on my bedroom floor. In my house. Which had been broken into. And probably trashed. Maybe they were in my room right now, tearing my curtains, breaking my picture frames, going through my clothes, they’d see my panties right there on the ground…
The tears began to turn to sobs as my poor little brain began to process the last five minutes. Those five minutes, when I looked back on them, felt like hours.
“ Samantha! Focus! Where can we go? There has to be somewhere!” Boon yelled, reaching out one hand and grabbing my shoulder, squeezing it. Despite everything else, the weight of his hand on me felt calming, sturdy. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes.
My first thought was my aunt’s farmhouse, where my cow and chickens lived, but if the club had been able to find my address, they could certainly find my aunt’s house.
“ The Clamhouse,” I suddenly said, speaking even before the thought was fully formed in my head. “We can go to the Clamhouse.”
“ Okay, okay, what is that, and where is it?” Boon said, squeezing my shoulder again. The Clamhouse was what we all called an abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of town. It was a place where people would sometimes throw parties or bonfires. The origins of the name were murky, but it was common belief that
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