Chapter Nine - Sneaking Out

The diner was the kind of place that didn't care who you were, just that you tipped. It clung to the edge of Glenwood like a relic from another time—cracked leather booths, faded checkered floors, a flickering neon "OPEN" sign buzzing like a mosquito against the midnight dark.

 Harper stepped inside, her body instinctively tightening at the warmth and light. She felt like a shadow among living things, foreign and out of place. Her boots scuffed softly against the floor as she glanced around. A waitress poured burnt coffee for a man in a frayed cap. The smell of grease and old onions clung to the air. At the back corner booth, near the window, sat a girl watching her like a hawk.

Sam Y.

She looked exactly like Harper had imagined—sharp eyes, shoulders squared, posture alert. Not relaxed. Never relaxed. She wore a black hoodie under a tattered denim jacket, her long, dark hair tied messily back. Her fingernails were short, bitten, and she tapped one against her ceramic coffee mug in a rhythm Harper couldn't place.

Harper approached slowly and slid into the seat across from her. The silence between them felt immediate, heavy, as if they were already halfway into a conversation neither of them knew how to begin.

"Are you Harper?" Sam asked, voice quiet but clipped, like she didn't want to say the name too loud in case it cursed them both.

Harper nodded. "Yeah. Thanks for coming."

Sam gave her a long, unreadable look. "Don't thank me yet. I almost didn't."

"I get it." Harper said. "I wouldn't trust me either."

Harper sat in silence for a moment, then leaned forward slightly. "I reached out because...Someone I knew is still there. Riley. She's my friend. I think she is anyway. She didn't have anyone looking for her when I left."

That made Sam pause. She tilted her head, searching Harper's face for something—truth, maybe. Or naivety.

"You think you're going to save her?" Sam asked.

Harper didn't flinch. "I have to try."

Sam studied her for a long moment, then finally leaned back, exhaling slowly. "People go missing in those places. Not just physically. Mentally. They mess you up until you forget you ever had a name that mattered."

"I know." Harper whispered. "But Riley was different. She got me through some of the worst parts. I fucking owe her."

The laminated menu lay untouched between them, the smell of burnt bacon curling through the air like a warning. Outside, dusk had bled into full night, casting shadows across the diner windows. The neon sign buzzed above them, flickering pink against Harper's freckled face.

Sam hadn't said anything for a while. She was watching Harper closely, her brow furrowed, her jaw set. The kind of silence that wasn't peaceful—just heavy. Like a storm building.

Harper broke it.

"What if..." she said, slowly, "I just went in?"

Sam blinked. "What?"

"To the camp. What if I went there myself—snuck in, figured out if Riley's still there?"

Sam stared at her for a beat, like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Are you serious?You Glenwood kids are all the same. You think just because you've got parents with lawyer friends or last names carved into buildings that you can barge into people's trauma like it's a podcast episode.""

She leaned back, eyes narrowing. "That place is a fortress. This isn't a school, Harper. They have security. Motion sensors. Locked wings. The whole thing's set up to keep people in—and keep everyone else out."

Harper didn't flinch. "Just tell me how you got out."

Sam ran her tongue across her teeth, staring Harper down, then finally reached for the sugar caddy and started fidgeting with a packet like a tic. 

"Fine. But this doesn't make us friends. I tell you, and that's it. You're on your own after this."

"Great."

Sam exhaled and glanced toward the window, where the parking lot flickered under orange streetlights.

"I didn't use the fence.." she began. "That's what everyone thinks. Too obvious. I planned this. I watched the shifts for weeks. Waited till one of them got lazy and started sleeping in his patrol car behind the chapel."

Harper leaned in. Her fingers were twitching slightly, trying to memorize every word.

"There's an old supply hallway by the boiler room." Sam continued. "Girls avoid it cause it stinks like mould and piss and it's freezing in winter. But there's a maintenance hatch behind the broken carts. You have to crawl through twenty feet of ductwork, rat droppings and all, but it gets you to the sub-basement."

"And then?"

"Then you either find the laundry chute or you get lucky. I got lucky. Found an old staff door. Alarm box was broken, so I was able to wedge it open. Slipped out past the dumpsters."

"And the fence?"

"I had help with that part." Sam admitted. "Not friends — God, no one had friends in there. But someone owed me. I'd done her a favour once . She distracted the cameras just long enough."

Harper absorbed the words. Every syllable felt like a blueprint, a breadcrumb trail leading to Riley.

"That hatch, you said.." Harper asked. "Is it still loose?"

"Unless they fixed it. Might be tighter now. Might not be there at all. They patch things fast if they notice."

"They don't notice much."

"True."

There was a pause. The waitress came by and asked if they wanted to order. Both girls said no thank you at the same time.

"Why'd you really come to me?" Sam asked suddenly. "You don't know me. You don't know if I'm lying."

"I know you're not." Harper said simply. "If you were, you wouldn't still be looking over your shoulder."

Sam cracked a faint smile at that, almost against her will.

Harper sat back. "You said someone helped you. Would they help again?"

"Doubt it. She got transferred. Or disappeared. That's what happens to the troublemakers."

"I can be quiet," Harper said. "I just need in. I can find Riley myself."

Sam studied her a moment longer, then reached across the table and pulled a napkin toward her. She used her fingertip to trace a rough rectangle. 

"Okay. This is the west hall. Boiler room's here. Behind this cart—see?—maintenance hatch. You crawl through, land by the old fuse boxes. From there, look for a corridor with cracked tiles. That leads to the laundry room. The chute's rusty, but it still works."

Harper watched like a student cramming for an impossible final.

"If you trip the alarm.." Sam said, "there's a ten-minute lockdown. Use it to vanish or you're gone. That's your only window. The guards switch shifts then."

Harper nodded, committing it to memory.

"You're gonna get yourself killed, Harper." Sam muttered, running her hand through her hair.

"I've already died once." Harper said softly. "That place just forgot to bury me."

For the first time, Sam didn't have a comeback.