Grabbing one of the boards with both hands, I climbed and got both my feet up on the wall. Straddling the board, and hanging like a spider, I pulled with all my might. Nothing happened. I tried a series of tugs, but still nothing. There was no "give" and no hope that I could get a board loose.

I got back down and after a few deep breaths I gave the lowest board the mightiest kick I had...

It didn't take long to get my legs free. I set the tape carefully aside in case it might be useful later. Then, before anything else, I had to pee, but wanted to avoid using the disgusting bucket. So I used my last residue of boyness and stood at the window. It was gross, but well, it was the world of nature out there.

Afterward I realized it was a bad idea. It could have been a shortcut to being found out. Although my kidnappers didn't seem violent or evil, there was no telling what they'd do once they realized I wasn't Maisie and that my father couldn't pay the sort of ransom they expected.

In my head I ran through all the relatives I knew. No one in my family — no aunt, uncle, grandmother, cousin — had any real money, the kind of money these men were expecting. There were no riches in the Donner clan. Beyond my family, there was no reason to expect Maisie's father to pay a penny for me. And Ida? I knew from my time with her that she was fairly economical. She may have enough money to stay at home, but it didn't look like she had anything to spare beyond that.

I went back to the window and studied the frame, in the hopes of finding something I could use as a tool or a weapon: loose wood, glass shards, nails... But there was nothing. It was clean. They may not have swept the floor, but they did clear away anything that could help me. And the boards, which prevented me from climbing out, were tightly screwed into the frame.

Grabbing one of the boards with both hands, I climbed and got both my feet up on the wall. Straddling the board, and hanging like a spider, I pulled with all my might. Nothing happened. I tried a series of tugs, but still nothing. There was no "give" and no hope that I could get a board loose.

I got back down and after a few deep breaths I gave the lowest board the mightiest kick I had...

... and saw stars. It was like kicking solid metal. I didn't know it at the time, but the wood was oak, and even with a hatchet I would have had difficulty.

Limping and whimpering, I checked the door. It was heavy, solid, and new. It was the same dense, unbreakable wood as the bars on the windows. This time, I didn't try to kick.

I had nothing to try to pick the lock with — not that I have any idea how it's done, but I would have given it a try.

Someone had recently moved the hinges to the outside, so I couldn't just pull the pins and open the door that way.

What did that leave? The walls: I hoped for plasterboard. If the walls were plasterboard, I could bust through between the studs, but no. These walls were made of wood. Solid. The place was old and disgusting, but it was built to last.

Conclusions? No obvious way out. Nothing to make a weapon from, except maybe a half-empty water bottle that I could swing like a club... but from the look of things, they didn't plan on coming in here until the ransom was paid, if then.

Trust me, there's a good plan in place, the bald one had said.

If I was my captors, I thought, I'd take the ransom money and tell my parents where to find me. In fact, they could go away right now and leave me here. They didn't need to guard me.

Just after I had that thought, soft footsteps came slowly up the stairs, and a timid knock at the door. "Who's there?" I called. What else was I supposed to say?

It was the bald one. "Hey, uh, girl in there. I'm sorry. I can't get you any cigarettes. We can't let you play with fire. You'll have to go cold turkey for a day or so. Sorry! But, oh, hey, maybe it's time you quit! I wish that *I* could quit. Something to think about, anyway."

"Hey," I called back, "I have any idea!"

"What's that?"

"I can lock you in here, and you can go cold turkey. This could be your chance to quit smoking for good!"

"Ha ha," he said, a little amused. "Good try. If this was a silly movie, I might be dumb enough, but it's not. Anyway, I'm sorry."

Then he went back downstairs. As his footsteps retreated, I heard the van engine start and drive off. So I was alone with the bald one.

I knelt at the window and looked outside for something to help me. I doubted than anyone would hear me if I called. There was no point in yelling, unless they both left.

As the sun dropped lower in the sky, my heart fell with it. What would the kidnappers do when they found out who I was? I began to cry silently. For the first time in my life, I was alone. Really alone. I thought about Maisie, and pushed the horrible things she'd said out of my mind. They didn't matter now. If I was here, at least Maisie wasn't. But I was here. Alone.

This is how Maisie feels all the time, I thought, and the tears came pouring out of me.

I knew that Ida and my parents would do whatever they could to help me. It might not be enough, though. I might die. I might. I didn't want to, but I might. I had to do whatever I could to not die, to get away, to save myself.

When it got dark, a sliver of moon came up and saved me from total darkness. I took off my coat and shoes and unrolled the sleeping bag. I didn't think I could sleep, but after eating one of the horrible sandwiches and drinking a little water, I went out like a light.

I dreamt a crazy dream that had everybody in it: Eden, Jerry, Aunt Jane and Denise. Cassie was there, Jerry's big sister, and somehow she made me feel safe. I was wearing my Dodgers shirt, and I was happy. It was a long dream, and a complicated dream, and it seemed so real, that when I woke up I had no idea where I was at all.

After a few moments it came seeping back into my memory: the abduction, the vans, the nasty cigarettes, the mistaken identity, the possibility of death.

I didn't feel like an "action hero" in that moment. Not at all. And Nancy Drew, I wasn't.

I was lying in a cheap sleeping bag on a dirty floor beneath a window with no glass in it. Three strong boards were screwed in tight to the window frame. The sun was shining and the birds were singing, and there was a big stain on the ceiling.

Even though I had to pee again, I wrapped the sleeping bag closer around me and shivered. There was no way to shut the damn window, and it was cold. Was there any heat in this house? It seemed warmer last night.

As I shivered and squirmed some warmth into the bag, my eyes were glued to the stain on the ceiling. There wasn't much else to look at.

I wasn't thinking, exactly, but something in my head was slowly analyzing: ''Stain... water... stain... water... leak... erosion... water stain... decay..." and I had a mental picture of my fingers picking apart old rotten plasterboard. And what made plasterboard old and rotten? Water.

I slid out of the sleeping bag, and shaking in the cold, pulled on my coat and shoes. My shoes, like the rest of my clothes, were disgusting. Me, my hair, and everything I was wearing felt funky, stiff, and stinky, but there was nothing I could do about it. There was nothing else to wear. I so wanted a shower!

The memory of the phone call with Maisie came flying back into my mind, but again I pushed it aside. As bad, as hurtful as what she'd said had been, my current situation was far worse.

By leaning against the side wall, I was able to climb the boards in the window and reach the corner of the ceiling. As I'd imagined, the plasterboard was brittle and easy to pick apart. It was disgusting, too, and I wondered what horrible junk was above it. I couldn't help but imagine mouse-droppings, old hair, centuries of dirt and dust mixed with nameless disgustfulness. I steeled myself and shoved my hand through, and soon made a little hole. It wasn't as gross as I expected it to be. The hard part was keeping the stuff that fell, from going into my face and hair.

Spitting, I wondered whether I could make a head-covering and makeshift gloves from the plastic bags, but instead of getting down to try it, I kept on working. It was slow going, but the progress was very real.

However, before the hole was big enough for me to squeeze through, I heard a terrible sound. It was the sound of a car bouncing along the potholes in the road. I climbed down to listen. It wasn't the van. I knew the sound of the van, and I knew the van was parked out front. I'd heard it come back last night after dark.

Whoever was coming was driving way too fast for that road. The car's suspension was knocking against the car... if those are the right words. Anyway, he was in too much of a hurry, and he was pushing his car too hard.

Once he arrived at the clearing and cut the engine, the car door opened with a creak and shut with a bang.

A voice bellowed, "Idiots!"

The sound was like the growl of an animal... hungry, fierce, and wild.

It made my hair stand on end, and somehow was familiar. I couldn't place it, though. I knew I'd heard the voice before, but couldn't imagine where. My heart began pounding. This had to be the boss, the one who'd "chosen" my abductors, and he probably knew that they'd taken the wrong girl.

I looked at the ceiling. One or two good rips, and I'd have a hole big enough to get through. But once inside the attic space, what would I do? Where would I go? It wasn't much of an escape plan, but at this point, it was my only option.

Still, my curiosity got the better of me, and I quietly went to the door and listened. It wasn't hard. No one was whispering.

"You jackasses! You half-wits!" the new voice shouted. "You took the wrong girl! You've ruined everything! A perfect plan, a SIMPLE plan, and you two simpletons had to screw it up!"

© 2007 Kaleigh Way