Free Moby Clique by Cara Lockwood

pirates take a Bard student.
    I nod my head furiously at the men and then at Heathcliff, trying to tell him that we ought to do something, but Heathcliff just shakes his head. I can’t believe he’s just going to let these guys—whoever they are—kidnap a Bard student. It’s clearly what they’re doing. We can’t just let them.
    I try to wriggle away from Heathcliff, and in my haste to do so, my foot lands on a dried branch and it cracks, loudly, beneath my foot. I let out an involuntary “oh” and the footsteps around us stop. They heard me, clearly.
    Heathcliff throws his body against mine, crushing me to his chest and muffling my face. Behind me, I hear the footsteps stop, and then more rustling around us. Suddenly, the woods around us seem to come alive with footsteps. Apparently the two guys weren’t the only ones in the group. There were more men and they seem to be surrounding us.
    Uh-oh. I didn’t count on that.
    “Run,” Heathcliff hisses in my ear, pushing me away from the tree.
    I don’t need to be told twice.
    I take off through the woods, branches whipping at my face as I blindly run toward campus. I hear Heathcliff behind me, thrashing through the brush. There’s a crashing sound, and I turn to see Heathcliff in a struggle with what look to be two men. One of them has little or no teeth and his mouth is open in a big O as he chases us. The other is the shirtless guy who has no shoes.
    I stop and look around for something heavy to smack one of them with, but even as I do so, Heathcliff quickly gets the upper hand. He smashes the head of one against a nearby tree and then kicks the other in the groin. Both men, dazed and startled, fall to the ground, moaning.
    Heathcliff pushes himself away from them and grabs my hand, leading me back toward Bard Academy. I hear footsteps closing in behind us. I don’t know how many men there are, but it sounds like a lot. Heathcliff tugs hard on my arm. Up ahead, I can see the lights of campus, and I hear the bell tolling, warning us that it’s five minutes until curfew. My legs pump harder, but I still feel like I’m falling behind, and the footsteps behind us are getting closer.
    Heathcliff glances back at me and then behind me, a worried look on his face, as we whip through the trees. And then, just as we’re five feet from the campus green, Heathcliff yanks my arm hard, swinging me around and in front of him. He’s so strong that he catapults me straight through the edge of the trees and onto the landscaped grass. I tumble onto the green, lose my footing, and fall on both knees and my hands, skidding to an ungraceful stop.
    I roll over, thinking Heathcliff is going to emerge any second, but all I see is him being pulled back by two sets of hands.
    “Heathcliff!”
    “Go!” he shouts at me, as he’s dragged back into the forest. “Leave me!”
    I hear grunts and groans, and what sounds like a scuffle. Then, silence.
    “Heathcliff?” I call softly. When he doesn’t answer me, I shout louder. “Heathcliff!”
    I glance at the line of the woods, frozen to the spot. Should I go back in and look for Heathcliff? Or should I run to get help? And why aren’t the men, or whatever they are, coming after me?
    After another second, I decide I can’t just leave him. I take a step into the tree line, right where Heathcliff disappeared, but I don’t see anyone. Everything is quiet. Eerily quiet, as I look from side to side. All I see are tree trunks and tree branches. No sign of Heathcliff or his attackers. And no one is making a sound.
    This is dumb. Oh so very dumb. I am so going to regret this.
    I step over a tree trunk, and suddenly am caught from behind. A strong hand comes tightly over my mouth.
    I squirm and struggle, even as my attacker lifts me easily off the ground, my feet kicking air. In a last-ditch effort, I swing an elbow hard backward, hoping to land in his stomach, which it does, and his grip relaxes a little. I fall forward inches away from