Absolutely

"Fuck yeah," you say and run after Rebecca. Then, you remember something important.

"Shit, wait," you say and turn around. Rebecca looks at you with surprise and then with delight as you dash back into the coaches' office and emerge with the professional-quality video camera and the janitor's keys. "Here, can you hold these?" you say, holding out the heavy key ring. "My pockets are shit." Rebecca grins and slips the keys into her (Rachel's) jeans pocket as the two of you slip outside.

You emerge into the cool night air and are reminded that the floodlight is out above the locker room entrance. You stand in the darkness, straining your eyes and ears for a sign of Rachel.

It doesn't take long, though, before you hear screams of surprise and peals of laughter coming from over near the bleachers. Busted, you think. I wonder who found her.