This Is My America(46)

“Seriously,” I whisper.

“I didn’t want to shout your name.”

“You scared me. And look at you. It’s hot as hell out here still.”

“I’m not doing jail time because I got caught.”

I huff. “Do you have a way into this place or what?”

“This is your show. How were you planning on getting in if I couldn’t swipe keys?”

I shrug. “I hadn’t thought that through yet.”

“No plan whatsoever, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Come on.” Quincy waves me over.

We walk farther, around the back of Herron Media. We’re now shielded between two fences and the next building that’s farthest away from the employee entrance. It looks like the loading area for deliveries.

I sweep my eyes to the top of the building, looking for a camera. Seeing none, I tap Quincy to let him know I think we’re good.

Quincy takes out a ring of keys, messes with a few until he finds the one that fits the service door.

“Have you done this before?” I whisper.

Quincy doesn’t answer, then takes my hand, and I follow him into the building. I take in quiet, measured breaths, so I don’t miss a sound in case we’re not alone. I take slow steps as he guides me near the wall. He points to the only location of a camera that could catch a sliver of us if we’re not careful. I lean my back against the wall, our fingers touching as we extend them out, scooting until we turn the corner.



Although we’re out of view from the camera, we don’t speak. Just fumble our way through hallways, passing closed offices. Quincy said we gotta watch out for one or two people that stay late.

The only thing we see in the hallways are the blink of small red and green lights above when we pass smoke detectors. We reach the front of the building where the glass windows are near the reception desk, then turn the corner to slowly climb up the stairs.

Upstairs is quiet. I take the lead now that I know where we’re going. Quincy hangs back, looking out to see if anyone’s in the hallway.

I pull down on the door handle to the main media room that Jamal used—the last place I saw Angela and Jamal together. It’s unlocked, so I wave Quincy over.

“Where do we start?” Quincy asks, shutting the door behind him.

“There.” I point to the cabinets near the audio recording controllers. We each take a side of the cabinets and go through them slowly.



Fumbling through books, files, supplies. Nothing looks like a personal place to keep something private. We spend more time going through each one until there’s nothing left. I walk to the middle of the room, turning, looking for a place to store the memory card. Whoever trashed the school newsroom could be looking for it, too.

“Did he say more than ‘near the controller desk’?” Quincy asks.

“Nope,” I say. “He kept it short. ‘Hidden compartment, near controller desk’ is all he said. Maybe it’s gone?”

I sit on the flat, open space that’s to the side of the controller desk. I kick my leg up to rest it on the other side of the desk, and the corner tumbles, causing the phone and schedule board to fall. A loud crash sounds.

“Damn. You always this subtle.” Quincy shakes his head, but he’s still grinning. I let out a nervous laugh, holding my hand over my mouth. Then his face freezes. He puts his finger to his lips.

I stop.

Then I hear it. The sound of someone coming down the hall. Under the door the hallway light flickers on.

“Someone’s here,” I whisper.

Quincy whispers, “No shit.”

My mind racing as the person goes door to door. The click of the door. Footsteps. Then the closing of each one. Getting closer and closer. Click. Footsteps. Close. Click. Footsteps. Close.

Quincy and I lock eyes when we know our door is next. There’s nowhere to hide, nowhere to go. Even if we shut off the lights, the second the door opens, the light from the hallway will showcase us in plain sight.



I whisper to Quincy, “We’re screwed,” and push away the fallen items slowly with my foot so they’re not in view.

“Trust me.” Quincy takes my hand, pulls me close.

The door opens.





FUNNY THING


ABOUT FIRSTS


Quincy wraps his arms around me, then kisses me softly.

“Oh! Excuse me,” a guy says. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”

“Dang. Sorry, B. I lost track of time.” Quincy turns to the man in the doorway, blocking me as he answers.

I hide my face, acting embarrassed, unsure who’s at the door. I might not know them, but they certainly would know me. My heart’s still beating fast with fear and with the shock of Quincy kissing me. His lips rushed to mine so fast, I didn’t know if I should push him off, pull him in, or slap him from trying to get in a kiss before we go to jail. Still, I touch my lips, the memory of his soft lips lingering there.

The door shuts. I’m still in shock that Quincy’s plan worked.



“Warning next time.”

“I’m sorry. No time.” He swings around and gives me a tentative look. “I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“Was that your secret backup plan?” I try to play it off and catch my breath.