12th Day - Not such a good idea

Reading time: 3 min

Photo by Matese Fields on Unsplash

It’s never going to work—you know it, they know it—and it’s not even worth it; nevertheless, you’re on your toes, ready to sprint. Your future teammates are waiting in the shadows all around you until Jeff points at a guy with a red backpack.

“That’s him,” he says. “Two minutes, the top of the clock tower. Ready?”

You nod and think no, you’re not.

“Three, two, one, go!”

You jump from the roof and land on a parked car. You hear laughter behind you, screams from the crowd you’re splitting in two.

The guy with the backpack sees you straight away and runs towards one of the buildings.

He’s fast, as much as you are, but he’s too considerate of the students walking around the campus, while you don’t mind pushing them away from your path. He gets to the door, but it’s locked, and you smile in triumph, when he turns and jumps on the bin, then climbs the tree in a second and disappears behind the library’s roof.

Another one. He must have known.

A quick glance at your watch. Already twenty seconds.

You don’t climb the tree; you get around the library and use a van as a trampoline. On the roof, you see the red backpack on the other side, reaching for the ladder to get to Building A.

You grab a rock and throw it. You shouldn’t, you know it, but he’s far, and he’s fast and you’re afraid this whole thing’s not going to work. The rock hits the ladder in the same moment the guy’s hand lies on it. You scared him; you can read it on his face.

He decides to slither off the roof, too cautious for a guy who’s being chased.

You don’t care about the reason, you don’t ask yourself why: there is no time. Forty-five seconds, for Christ’s sake.

You jump off the roof as if it were one foot from the ground, and you don’t have time to avoid the old lady coming out of the next building. You hit her with a knee and lend on your elbow. It hurts. Your body’s launched a cry of pain. You get back on your feet; the cry doesn’t stop. It’s not your body, it’s the old lady.

In the distance, the guy in the backpack is running towards the gym.

You run against the pain, insults raining on you from all directions. Who was that woman? A teacher? A secretary? Did you just earn yourself an expulsion?

It doesn’t matter. The guy in the backpack seems confused. He goes left, then stops, looks around. He’s not familiar with the environment. You look at the watch. One minute and seventeen seconds. It’s not time to be cautious; it’s time to gamble.

You steer right way before the guy with the backpack does it, and when he realises you’re beside him, it’s too late.

A cheeky foot between his legs does the job, and he tumbles, smashing his nose on the concrete. You grab the backpack and sprint towards the clock tower, a couple of security guards trying to tackle you.

On the top of the tower, your teammates cheer. You put your foot on one of the protruding bricks and start climbing it in front of the entire campus.

You’re almost halfway through when they start shouting the countdown.

“Ten, nine, eight…”

Maybe it’s going to work after all.

“Seven, six, five, four…”

You’ve got a firm grip; you see the path unravelling in front of your eyes. Just two more grabs and you’re there.

“Three, two, one…”

With the last push, you put your hand on the top; you made it, and your teammates come to help you.

One of them clasps your elbow. It hurts.

Involuntarily, your body jerks back, away from the pain, and your foot slips.

You’ve got time to look down at the campus getting closer and closer and to think that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.