It was also dark, the area around our school deserted. “This part of town is so empty at night,” I said. “I could walk you home if you wanted.”

Her lips twisted. “Oh no, I’m okay. My mom’s waiting in the upper lot for me.” She pulled on her hat, then offered me a sad smile as I started to unlock my bike. “But I’ll see you in class.”

If you want to learn to swim, you have to throw yourself in the water.

—BRUCE LEE

SAVANNAH TAYLOR

My feet trudged up the concrete stairs I’d come down ninety minutes earlier. They were the same stairs, it was the same cold night, but I actually felt worse than I had before.

I felt even more alone. It was clear that Daniel liked me. And I liked him. I really did. His warm brown eyes made my knees go weak, as did the way his black hair fell over his eyes and the way his long fingers pushed it back.

I hadn’t said no because I was grounded. I figured that would be long over by the time of the dance. But if I had said yes to going with Daniel, I knew where it would lead. To me having my heart ripped out when we left Portland, as we inevitably would. To me becoming like my mom. Always desperate to fill the missing piece.

I reminded myself that I didn’t need a guy. I didn’t need friends. I didn’t need anyone. As soon as I was old enough, I was going to live on my own. I was going to be completely independent. Make my own money, my own choices, my own life.

And no matter where I was, that life would include kung fu. As soon as I walked into Tim’s house, I would apologize to him. If I had to, I would grovel. I wouldn’t even ask for my phone back. I’d promise to cook him steaks every night. Maybe offer to polish every inch of his stupid Camaro by hand after it was fixed. Whatever it took to keep coming back to class.

At the top of the steps, I rounded the corner of the building. I was so lost in thought that I only knew something was wrong when a rough hand grabbed my wrist from behind.

My first confused thought was that it was Daniel, seeing how well I remembered tonight’s lessons. Playing a joke on me.

But as I was jerked backward, I smelled cigarettes and motor oil. And I saw what I hadn’t registered at first: an old white van parked in the darkest corner of the lot. The lot that earlier had been empty.

I froze, all of tonight’s lessons fleeing from my head. What would Sifu do? Or Bruce Lee?

And then I remembered that rather than trying to pull away from my attacker, I should instead accelerate his motion by pushing toward him. Toward the thumb that was the weakest part of his grip. I let him spin me around and yank me back as I stepped closer. I felt my hat go sliding off as I circled my right arm up and back, breaking his grip. With a muffled grunt, he let go. My momentum carried me closer to him. I was already striking out with the heel of my left hand. His teeth clacked as I made contact with his jaw.

I turned and ran. As I did, I sucked in my breath to let out a scream. I was in a dark, deserted parking lot outside a dark, deserted building. The nearest people were at least a block away. Tucked inside their houses, warm and safe, the windows shut, the curtains closed. Still, I had to try.

But what came out of my mouth was a screech. Not a scream, not a piercing cry, not an alarm that split the night. It was both soft and high-pitched. It didn’t seem to go anyplace except maybe right above our heads, hanging with the fog of our breath.

A second later, I felt two tiny stings, one in my butt and one on my right thigh. My body went rigid as every muscle clenched. My head jerked up and back of its own volition. As I toppled over, my vision filled with white light. I felt the pain in my teeth, my eyeballs, my fingertips.

And then my head hit the ground, and I didn’t feel anything at all.

To understand your fear is the beginning of really seeing.

—BRUCE LEE

SAVANNAH TAYLOR

With a groan, I tried to open my eyes. I felt my eyebrows rise and my lids faintly flutter, but they were so heavy it was all I could do to finally crack them open. It didn’t make much difference. Wherever I was, it was nearly as dark as it was behind my eyelids.

I also had the worst headache of my life. Each heartbeat made the pain expand and contract.

What was happening?

When I tried to raise my head, it felt as heavy as a bowling ball. And just as empty. I let it fall back.

Time passed. All I was capable of was existing. But slowly my consciousness began to reassert itself.

Where was I? I took inventory. I was sprawled in an awkward twist, not quite facedown. Whatever I was on was cold and unyielding, vibrating faintly. My breathing seemed too shallow, fast and panting.

Something was clearly wrong. But I couldn’t fill in the blank of what it was.

I started to push myself up. But my wrists were bound together. I slumped back down. Slowly, I considered the possibilities. Not handcuffs. Not rope. Something wide that pulled at the hairs on my wrists.

Duct tape.

Memories slowly came back. Going up the stairs, my thoughts preoccupied with Daniel. The old white van squatting in the corner of the parking lot. The rough hand grabbing me from behind.

And I had done nothing to stop it, except for my pathetic attempt to scream. I had kept on second-guessing myself right up to the point where I had stiffened and fallen. Had he injected me with drugs? I remembered feeling stings.

Now here I was. In the back of that white van. Underneath me the metal floor was vibrating from the hum of the motor. The man who had hit me had to be driving it.

He must have gathered me up and then dropped me inside his van. I tried to remember his voice. Had I heard it before? Had it belonged to someone I knew? He had smelled like motor oil and cigarettes.

He had smelled like Tim.

But Tim didn’t currently have a car, let alone a van. So the man must be a stranger.

That seemed even more frightening. If he was anonymous to me, that meant I was to him as well. Anonymous meant disposable.

But the familiar way he smelled. Could Tim have borrowed one of the dozen or so cars that were always at the shop, waiting for repair?

And whether it was Tim or a stranger, what should I do now?

Don’t move, a voice whispered inside me. Make yourself still and small. Maybe that way you won’t get hurt any worse. The longer he doesn’t notice you’re awake, the longer he doesn’t think about you, the better.

But that was a lie my fear was telling me.

The only reason this man was taking me someplace was that the new location would be better for him.

Better for him, but not for me. And with every passing second, we were rushing farther away from where anyone would think to look for me.

So I had to cut this trip short before the van stopped and whatever he had planned for me started.

The van wasn’t varying in speed, wasn’t stopping and accelerating, like it would for lights and stop signs on city streets. Were we on the freeway? It didn’t feel like we were going that fast, but I couldn’t be sure. How long had I been unconscious? How far away were we from the dojo? Did anyone even know I was missing?

I could not keep lying here on the way to my doom.

My body felt disconnected from my brain. It was like my thoughts were taking place in a different world than the one in which I lay.

I scanned the space through the crack between my upper and lower lids, looking for anything that might help me. Slowly, I figured out that I was facing the back door of the windowless van. When I realized my attacker couldn’t see my eyes, I opened them wider. My feet were closest to the back of the van, my head farthest away.