I raced over to the gymnastics wing.

I imagined the rest of my high school days being lived out this way. Being one of them, doing whatever it was they did. My adrenaline was pumping as I creeped through the gymnastics wing, it was empty at the time, so it wasn’t difficult to remain unseen, everything was going perfectly, until I reached the door.
Locked.

Shit! Now what was I going to do? The English wing doors, I’d heard, were always open, except they were on the other side of the school. Not only would that mean it would take longer to get into Trish’s car, but there was a lot better chance of getting caught as I circled back around. I looked all around the gymnasium, until I spotted a window, about 25 feet up. It was open, and I could get to it easily by climbing the bleachers, but that would mean a long way down.