It was Thursday.
Courtney was the student on the bus, as usual. Courtney had 'special privileges' as Student Council President and the obvious choice for Valedictorian, and those privileges included getting out of each class fifteen minutes early. Needless to say, Courtney was fond of those privileges and loved rubbing them in other people's faces.
She was the school's Overachiever, the Pep Squad Captain, Debate Team Captain and one of the richest kids in school. She, along with a few of the other High Schoolers, lived with her family in a ritzy neighborhood called 'Victory Gardens'. Courtney thought the name was particularly fitting for her family, and detested the other unworthy people living there. All except for one; her boyfriend: Duncan Webber.
Courtney slid into the very front seat, directly behind the driver, and began reading one of her many published 'Total Triumph for Teens' novels.
The bell rang and two teens shifted on the grass behind the school. "Shit," the boy muttered, making no move to leave his 'friend' Gwen's embrace. "We better go; Courtney'll be lookin' for me soon."
Gwen released him and stood, brushing the dirt and cigarette ash off her skirt. "Crap! How did I let you talk me into this?" Gwen shook her head. "Courtney and I were just starting to get along, too."
"Well, I am pretty convincing..." They enjoyed one more risque kiss before righting themselves and running for the bus.
"DUNCAN!" Courtney was waiting outside the bus with her arms crossed and a glare on her face. "Where were you two?"
Gwen stuttered, but Duncan answered smoothly. "We needed a Nic Fix, Princess." He put an arm around her and pecked her cheek. "Just chill, baby cakes."
Courtney turned to face Gwen, and only Gwen. "Is this true, Gwen? Were you, my friend, and Duncan, my boyfriend, smoking when you should have been in class?"
'If looks could kill...' Gwen thought. Courtney's eyes were like huge, sparking coals, and Gwen did not wanna get burned.
She gulped. "Yup, were were lightin' it up! Just sucking some good ol' Cancer Sticks!" The Goth giggled nervously and Courtney's expression softened to a suspicious frown. She nodded to Gwen and boarded the bus with the secret lovers trailing behind. Duncan and Gwen shared a smile before she began her journey to the very last seat, as usual.
Alejandro and Heather competed over everything, and that included a race to see who could board the bus first. If Alejandro's last hour teacher were female or Gay, he'd beat the Queen Bee easily, but he was stuck with an ultra-Christian (and thus ultra-straight) teacher for English.
"You may now leave, class." The teacher monotoned from his desk, where he sat reading one of his religiously-themed teaching books.
Alejandro grinned and bolted for the door, backpack in hand.
Unfortunately, Heather had bolted down the hall at just the wrong time, and the two collided.
"Ugh, you did that on purpose, you loser!" She wasn't nicknamed 'The Ice Queen' for nothing.
"Oh, it is good to see you again, Mi reina." Alejandro smirked sadistically while Heather sputtered like a boiling kettle. "But I really must catch that bus." Then he ran, with the Asian girl not far behind.
Everyone boarded the bus in a huge rush (yes, Alejandro beat Heather), then the driver snapped the door shut, almost angrily, and left the last few students. He had other things to do than drive some slow, sniveling, whiny kids to their Mommies and Daddies.
"Sir," came a high-pitched whine. Gods, what is with teenagers and whining? "You left a few kids behind. I mean, it's their fault for being late, but won't you get in trouble for leaving them?"
The driver scowled and re-opened the door, letting the last few kids trickle in with a grunt and a groan.
"Thank you, Sir." Courtney beamed, expecting a reward for her services. Instead, the driver asked her to stand next to him.
"Yer usual driver called in sick 'bout an hour ago, an' I dunno where all the stops 'er." He grunted. "If yer so eager ta' help, tell me where ta' go."
She frowned and crossed her arms, but obediently nodded. She didn't notice Duncan making mocking gestures behind her back, and she definitely didn't see Gwen silently laughing along with the rest of the students at Duncan's jest.
The bus stopped and started, until only a few people were left; seven students and the driver. "Ye can go back ta' yer seat." The driver suddenly told Courtney.
"But, Sir, the next stop is my-"
"I said," he turned to look directly into Courtney's eyes, giving her a hateful and, thought the C.I.T. would never admit it, fucking scary glare. "Get in your SEAT!" She opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish, then gasped and skidded back to her seat.
Duncan put an arm around his girlfriend, sincerity in his eyes. "What's wrong, Babe?" Before she could (or would) answer, the driver pulled over to the side of the road and stood to address the confused teens.
"This," he said. "Is a kidnapping." The driver no longer used his phony accent. He was wearing a heavy leather blazer, from which he produced a gun. "You are all going to cooperate, and your parents are going to give us money, then we'll send you home. But," he faked sadness and cocked the gun. "If you cause trouble, I'll kill you; you don't have to be alive for us to get the money, your parents just have to think you're alive."
Then, someone laughed. It started out nervous, unsure, but soon escalated into full-on hysterics, complete with tears. "Oh fuck," Duncan wiped his eyes. "You've gotta be kidding!"
The driver stalked over to Duncan, pushing a stunned Courtney onto the aisle. "What's so funny, punk?"
This caused more laughter from Duncan. "'Punk'? Seriously? That's your comeback? Punk? That's a fucking compliment." Duncan laughed some more, but stopped instantly when he found himself looking down the barrel of a shotgun.
"Is it still funny?"
He shook his head, and the driver returned to his previous position, stepping on Courtney's arm for good measure. "You will address me as 'Sir', and you will stay completely silent while I tell my friend Chef that we've arrived."
"Señor," Alejandro stood and helped Courtney to her feet. "There's no need to threaten us; we both know you won't shoot. You're just trying to psych us out so you won't have to fire that gun." He gave the man a knowing glance. "I doubt you even own ammo for that gun."
The driver-or 'Sir'-looked startled at Alejandro's boldness. Heather was equally as startled.
"Alejandro, you idiot, sit down!" She begged, nearly ripping his arm out of its socket in fruitless attempts to pull him back into his seat.
A shot rang out.
Alejandro clutched his arm while the others looked in shock. All except the driver, who simply said: "Call me 'Sir', not Señor. I speak English, you filthy Mexican pig."
"I am from Spain, verga." The proud teen grunted silently, easing back into his seat next to Heather, who wrapped her arms around him.
Sir smiled, then exited the bus and pulled an air horn from his blazer. He sent Chef a quick message using short and long squeals from the horn (Morse Code, anyone?), then tossed it back in the bus and ordered the teens out, single-file.
A large white car that might've once been an ice cream truck pulled around the corner and from it stepped a very tall black man. Tattoos and scars zig-zagged across his muscular frame, and he demanded respect with every heavy step. "Get. In. The. Car." He barked. "Now, Maggots, NOW!"
Courtney was the first to jump in the back of the truck, followed by a brunette boy with lazy eyes. Duncan opened his mouth to say something, but closed it when Alejandro let out a painful hiss. The Punk glanced at Gwen, who was speechless, and gave her a reassuring smile before sitting beside Courtney. Gwen gave him a breif half-smile in return and wedged herself between Duncan and Courtney. Alejandro and Heather slid in last, the latter ripping her cheer leading uniform into strips so she could bind the other's wound.
Sir went back to gather the teens' backpacks, then gave them to Chef to check. He started the car and Chef tossed all electronics back onto the bus, making sure there would be no way for anyone to trace the missing students to their new location. Having finally deemed them clean, Chef tossed the bags in the back of the truck, closed and locked the doors, and joined Sir up front.
The white truck sped away, leaving the lonely school bus just a few miles shy of Victory Gardens.
It was Thursday, and seven were missing.