The Strange Text Message

It was a regular Friday at school. At least, it was until I, Shinta Byrnes, got the strange text message. I had been tidying up – it was the end of the day – when Yusuf’s message arrived. 

Ding! I reached into my phone and looked at the message. It read: Come quick! I’m in big trouble. Meet me behind the school in 10 mins. I read it again and again. Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t Yusuf’s phone number! 

Why would my friend Yusuf get himself into trouble? I thought, my stomach churning and why behind the school? We don’t go into the teachers’ carpark. 

As the bell went, everyone dashed to the door, including me. But instead of heading towards the school gate, like everyone else was doing, I ran around to the teachers’ carpark. I arrived there a bit early so I sat down near the carpark and tapped out a quick text to my mum, assuring her that I would be a bit late. 

I heard a snippet of conversation and distant laughter. All the teachers must be clustered in the staff room over by the biggest classroom a long way from the office, making jokes over cups of coffee. 

When I had finished typing my message, I pressed send, then I looked up into the carpark. 

A strange black car was in the carpark. A strange black car with strange markings on their sides. None of the teachers owned that car. 

I waited patiently for Yusuf to arrive. One minute passed. Then two, and three…

I checked my watch. 3:10pm. Yusuf should’ve come long ago! Where is he? Suddenly, I heard a door creak open from somewhere and a tall, hooded figure emerged from the classroom. Yusuf? 

A strong hand clamped down on my shoulders and pinned me to the ground. This wasn’t Yusuf. Who were they? 

“Help?! I shrieked. “HELP!!”

That hand pushed me up, until I was facing the tall, hooded stranger. It was a mysterious man who obviously wasn’t the caretaker Tim, a teacher or a parent. 

He let go for one moment, and I sprinted towards the office, only to be slowed down by my backpack. 

“What have you done with Yusuf?” I yelled to his impersonator while dodging his strong arms. 

“Yusuf? Who?” The man asked threateningly.

This impersonator didn’t know who Yusuf was? Pff. He was pretending to be my friend, anyway. How could he not know who Yusuf was? 

With a burst of speed, I ran to the back door of the school, rattling the handle. Locked!

Uh-oh, I thought, as a tall, menacing shadow came closer to me. 

“HELPPPP!!!”