Escape Plans

I stare at the same exact same tree in the exact same seat in the exact same room every period 6, and every period I look at it, my escape route changes. 

I slide like a baseball player down the mesh tarps over the place where the seniors eat their lunches and scale the ten foot, painted cinder block wall of the weights room. Then, I run past the gate so quickly that the guard has no time to even clock the fact that I’m running. If I need to, I’ll leave my backpack behind. As I get into my car, I’ll peel out of the parking lot and go straight to the movies. That’s plan 7, formulated on the tenth day of the second semester.

Plan two was about two thirds into the first semester. This one starts the same as 7, only this time I ride the tarps all the way to the roof of the gym. I then slide down the gym wall to the dumpsters, where I use them to climb over the fence and end up on the middle school campus. I probably won’t have much time on their campus, but if I act like I know what I’m doing and walk fast enough, I don’t think that anyone will necessarily stop me. I think that if I hold colorful paper, it might look like I have some pass for something and that the paper will increase my odds of making it out with no trouble. Once again, I peel out of the parking lot and head to the movies.

Plan 1 is a little more fantastical, but it remains possible: if I’ve learned anything from Statistics, it’s that there’s almost no such thing as a 0% chance. First, I achieve the ability to fly. As deus ex machina as this seems, it’s not the gift everyone might think. If I rocket into the sky and get noticed, I now have either a life on the run or be experimented on as a freak of nature for the rest of my life. This plan requires subtlety.

I would move to a corner of the outside of a block and slowly slide up the wall, making sure no one was there and I could not be detected by any cameras. Once I end up on the roof, I run. I run towards the sidewalk on the other side of the fence and take a running jump to clear the fence, so that if anyone sees, they’ll think I’m just really good at parkour. Once I’ve cleared the fence, I’ll take off my uniform to reveal street clothes I had worn under my sweatshirt and skirt. I walk down towards my car with this new ensemble and act like an inconspicuous ambiguously-aged student, looking at no one and walking straight to my car. Once I arrive… I peel out of the parking lot. And go to the movies.

These plans all hinge on me being in my Statistics class. My location is paramount for some of these plans, but not all. One of my AP US History escape plans could be conducted from any side of the school, though being in my history class would help a lot. Plan 3 involves the dog that lives on the other side of the chain link fence from the school. This would take time, but it would be a fabulous crescendo.

I would start by leaving food close to the chain link fence: close enough that the dog can easily reach it. Every day, I leave food incrementally farther and farther away from the fence. Every day, the dog pushes more and more to reach the food. More and more. This goes on for a while, possibly several months. Then, one day, I leave a whole rotisserie chicken several inches from the fence: not too close, not too far, inconspicuous enough. The dog reverts to his primal animal instincts and strength tears through his body– DOWN THE FENCE GOES. In the chaos that ensues following the dog taking down the fence, I could walk right out. And see a movie after.

The disruption sounds delicious, truly. And no escape at the expense of others, just my sweet, sweet freedom. I love school, don’t get me wrong. But I haven’t slept in a while, and for every hour I don’t sleep, I add another plan to the growing stack of post-it notes on my desktop, documenting the different ways in which I could leave with no one knowing (preferably).

I hope you enjoyed a look into my mind as I stare at that dewy skyscraper tree. I know that you might not be able to envision the logistics as clearly as I can, but I know you have your own plans. During period 6, I’m not thinking about averages, maximums, minimums, or standard deviation. I’m thinking about truant deviation. I’m thinking about freedom.

(this article was published during period 6)