John obviously knows where he's going and the abandoned steel mill is bigger than it looks from the outside - I'm completely lost. Galling though it is, I have no choice but to follow along behind him. As if he knows this, and is amused by it, he picks up the pace so I have to hurry to keep up with his long strides. I don't say anything, even though I'm quickly out of breath; I just stalk along beside him, trying desperately to keep my puffing under control.
Damn him anyway! Does he get a kick out of throwing me off balance?
I snort with the tiny amount of breath I have left. Of course he does. This is John Bender we're talking about. Aggravating is his middle name. Or it should be, anyway. As if to prove my internal point, he flashes me one of those infuriating little grins of his.
"See, Princess? Isn't this better than school?"
A reluctant smile twitches at the edges of my lips. It is, sort of. Even though I'm cold and out of breath and trapped in the company of one of Shermer High School's most infamous delinquents, it's better than school. Different, certainly.
"What are you showing me?" I manage.
His grin widens almost imperceptibly. "Now that would be telling."
"Oh, great," I mutter.
John shakes his head as he starts to climb rusty metal stairs, two at a time. "You can be so suspicious sometimes."
I stop at the base of the staircase, eyeing the decrepit steps dubiously. "This does not look safe."
From the second landing, John rolls his eyes dramatically. "Are all richies as chickenshit as you?"
Stung, I begin to climb. The steps creak unnervingly under my feet, and for possibly the first time in my life, I'm glad I'm wearing sneakers. Anything else, and I'd probably break an ankle.
The stairs let out on a big, dusty room with a missing wall that's covered in blue tarpaulin. There's a rumpled mattress on the floor in the corner, surrounded by empty potato chip bags and cigarette cartons. I stop abruptly. John flops onto the bed and digs out a pack of cigarettes, meeting my eyes with a hard, challenging stare. "Something wrong, princess?"
I manage a little bit of a smile. "Please tell me you didn't drive me all the way out here to show me your bed."
He actually laughs a little at that. "Nah, that's just a side bennie. I drove you all the way out here--" he stands up, cigarette clamped between his teeth like a fifties movie star, and moves toward the tarp "--to show you this." Dramatically, he flings the tarp aside.
"What?" I say.
John rolls his eyes again. "You have to actually come over here, Princess."
I move toward him, cautiously, in case the floor gives way. "I still don't see what...oh."
"Told you," he smirks, but I'm not listening. The floor drops away--that can't be safe--and several hundred feet below us is the Mississippi river, winding like a silver snake through fading landscape. There's nothing but hills and trees and the long silver river as far as I can see.
"Oh," I breathe again. Behind me, John laughs.