Author's Note

In celebration of Amazon Prime Video's newest series Panic, I am thrilled to be teaming up with Amazon Prime Video and Wattpad to write this exclusive chapter that puts my characters from this story into the world of Panic!

I hope this chapter intrigues and inspires you to learn more about Panic. Visit the #PanicWritingContest on Wattpad for the chance to put your creative writing chops to the test and learn more about the show!

To find out more about the contest, prizes, and how to enter, check out the #PanicWritingContest here: wattpad.com/AmazonPrimeVideo

Don't forget to watch the series premiere on May 28th, only on Amazon Prime Video, here: http://primevideo.com/

***

I wanted to throw in a few quick disclaimers about this chapter and its relationship to the rest of Straitjacket. I tried to maintain the personalities of my characters while still keeping them realistic in the world of Carpe, Texas. You'll find easter eggs to the wider Straitjacket world hidden throughout, so be sure to keep an eye out for those!

I had so much fun writing this. It challenged me and pushed me outside of my comfort zone. "Panic" is also a fun show with similar vibes to this book, so save the date and be sure to check out the show once it's released!

***

I wonder, sometimes, what would happen if I had been born literally anywhere else.

It isn't that I don't love Carpe, Texas. It's just that I hate it with every fiber of my being. There's no breathing room in this town. Nowhere to hide. Nobody to turn to without fear of your secrets being leaked everywhere. Everyone knows everything in Carpe. Nothing stays buried for long.

The only exception to that rule had been Panic, and even that secret's been unearthed.

Panic started years and years ago. Nobody's sure exactly how long the game's been played. That's what tends to happen when things are so shrouded in mystery -- the details get smudged, lost to the whirling sands of time. Or some other poetic, symbolic crap a tenth-grade English teacher would dream up.

But that shroud of mystery fell off last summer. When...

With no small amount of effort, I drag my thoughts away from last year's terrible few months and back to the present.

What matters isn't Panic's past. What matters is what Panic can do for my future.

Because if I don't win Panic -- if I can't get my hands on the largest cash prize that the game has ever seen -- then I'm going to be stuck in this good-for-nothing town for the rest of my life.

It's not like I know what my future holds, or even what I want it to hold. All I'm certain of is that I have to get far away from this town and everyone in it.

Everyone but Jake.

As if he's reading my thoughts, my best friend, riding shotgun beside me, speaks up. "You know you don't have to do this."

I grit my teeth and shoot him a glance. "You know I do. I've already passed the first challenge."

Jake sighs and stares out the window. He's good at being melodramatic. I prefer gritty reality. We get along like oil and water sometimes, but we balance each other out. At least, that's what my mom says. She's always been a glass-half-full sort of person.

Me, not so much.

"Your life here isn't terrible," Jake tries again as I turn off the main road and my truck goes bumping over the dirt. "Better than most people's, honestly."

I snort. "You know what? I think you're right. I think I'm going to give up on this whole Panic nonsense. Maybe I'll go back to babysitting Xander. That really seems like a long-term gig. Or maybe I can keep tutoring Deirdre. I mean, my math skills sort of tap out around the eighth grade, so there's a shelf life on that, but I'm sure I can work something out."

Jake rubs at his temples like an aggravated mother. "There will always be kids to take care of, Sage. There will always be little odd jobs around here. You could save up enough to leave. It...would just take a few years."

"I don't think I'll survive a few more years in this town, Jake." Realizing how tightly I'm gripping the steering wheel, I loosen my muscles and take a deep breath. "Besides, we're already at the granary. No turning back now."

Sure enough, the abandoned buildings loom in front of us, imposing spots of ink against the quickly darkening sky. Their bases are illuminated by campfires, phone flashlights, and twinkling fairy lights strung from rusted metal to twisted bush. If I didn't know better, the whole scene would appear to be a teenage party too wild to be held in a house.

What we're actually doing is far more dangerous.

I pull over to the side of the road and park. There's no need to cozy up with the ramshackle structures. It would just make fleeing harder if the cops show up. Not that they will -- the message was cryptic enough, the teens tight-lipped enough, that our night should go pretty smoothly. But you can never be too careful.

Jake and I walk towards the granary in silence. I can feel the tension rolling off of him in waves. I know how much he hates this, how badly he wants me to stop playing this game. But he just doesn't get it. I can't stay here, working the same temporary childcare jobs and waiting for life to somehow find me in the middle of Nowhere, Nothingness. I have to take some initiative. I couldn't get into college on my smarts, as he did. I can't fight or deal my way out like a lot of other kids in our graduating class have already done. I sure as hell can't stay here and be happy about it.

I notice a few friendly faces as we move through the crowds of kids. The vast majority of them aren't going to be competing. They're just here to watch the show.

It reminds me of how, centuries ago, entire towns would gather to watch people get their heads chopped off. Humans have always been drawn to morbidity, I guess. I, myself, enjoy true crime stories and a scary urban legend here and there. I can hardly blame them, these passive watchers.

When someone grabs a handful of the back of my shirt, I whirl around, prepared to fight. The little girl standing behind me flinches away from my raised fist instinctively but then lowers her guard and grins.

"Sage! It's me."

"Deirdre?" I breathe, crouching to her level. "What are you doing here?"

"My cousin brought me!" she exclaims, pointing back into the crowd. I'm not sure which of the boys currently chugging a beer or smoking a joint is her cousin, but fury licks through my veins at the idea that anyone would bring a child out here. Deirdre's too little to understand the consequences of her actions -- or ours, for that matter. She could mention something to a teacher that could get all of our asses busted. The last thing I need is another stint in juvie, especially when the injustice of the first one still stings.

(Is beating someone within an inch of their life really that big of a deal, especially when the person in question is a douchebag who catcalled you? I don't think so, but the law seems to disagree.)

Not to mention that Deirdre could try to mimic what she sees done here tonight, or could get some serious trauma if something goes wrong. Which maybe should have been my first concern.

Hey, I never said I was perfect.

My little student is still grinning up at me, so I ask, "Would you like to sit with us?"

"Sure," she says, shrugging. She doesn't even bother to check with her cousin as she slips in between Jake and me, and something tells me the boy wouldn't even notice she was missing if she disappeared into the cornfields.

No sooner have we settled in than another person approaches us, this time a lanky, recently-turned-teenager. I can't see his legs very well in the dark, but when a nearby fire flickers, I can see the flames glint off the metal. If it was daylight, I know what I'd see: two mechanical legs, technological masterpieces, the origins of which are currently unknown despite Carpe's remarkable ability for digging up secrets.

"Xander," I say, staring up at him from my vantage point on the ground. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Little pitchers," Jake hisses, covering Deirdre's ears with his hands. She giggles and swats him away.

"I figured out the message," Xander replies, his face as expressionless as always. I've never met a creepier kid, but a lack of social skills never killed anyone.

The stuff he cooks up in his dad's garage might, but I've learned not to ask too many questions.

I sigh. "Of course you did." Xander's scary smart -- the sort of intelligence that might be his one-way ticket out of here. I wouldn't put it past him to compete in Panic, though, once he's old enough, just to prove he could win.

He points to the ground beside me. "Mind if I sit here?"

"The more the merrier."

He lowers himself onto the ground beside me, kneeling on his legs. If I sat in that position for long, I would get pins and needles all throughout my legs. That's the good thing about Xander's robo-legs, I guess: as advanced as they are, they're not fancy enough to come with pain sensors.

We've arrived just in time. The emcee -- a lanky boy who I think was in my chemistry class a couple of years back -- stands on top of a box and taps on his megaphone. He's met with screechy feedback and the more dramatic members of the crowd clap their hands over their ears in visible protest. Jake and I both sit still, watching quietly.

The emcee this year's pretty good, all things considered. He keeps his announcements short and witty -- perfect for a high-tension, high-stakes game like Panic. Whoever wins these (often life-or-death) games walks away with more money than most of us have ever seen. It's not really a healthy environment for long-winded speeches.

He explains that today's challenge will be a simple but daunting one: contestants will be crossing from one dilapidated water tower to the other by means of a wooden plank. As he speaks, he gestures to the water towers in question.

"Jesus," Jake swears, staring up at the board far above our heads. Then he turns to me, eyes wide with panic. "You can't do this. Please, Sage."

"What's she doing?" Deirdre asks, also looking up at the board. "Are you walking across that?"

"I'm going to, yeah," I reply, choosing to ignore Jake in favor of responding to her.

"That looks scary."

"It'll be okay," Jake says instinctively. He doesn't see what I see in Deirdre's eyes -- a glint of something maniacal that's set me on edge about the child ever since I started tutoring her. She's a sweet little girl, sure, but she's got a mean streak. I'd hate to find out who she was if anyone ever broke her.

Not that I intend to let that happen.

The emcee's friend, a cute girl who has been assigned the job of contestant delegation, calls off the first name. It's Nicole, a girl I've had some brief but unsavory run-ins with in the hallways of our high school. She's full of herself and seems to think she's some sort of scary vampire queen. There's a rumor that she filed her molars into points. Everyone seems to miss the fact that vampires historically only have sharp canines, and they also seem to gloss over the terrible inconvenience of having literal daggers hanging out in your mouth 24/7, but I've never believed those rumors, anyway. I mean, what kind of psychopath would file down her own teeth?

All eyes are trained on Nicole as she stands, gritting her (presumably very pointy) teeth and starting for the water towers. A hush falls over the crowd as she begins to climb the rusting rungs affixed to the left building's side.

That in and of itself seems dangerous. After all, there are a million things that could go wrong. A rung could break off, a stray nail could impale her hand...she could get seriously injured or even die before ever reaching the top of the water tower.

But reach the top she does, and she stands there breathing heavily for a moment while the people below cheer her on. There's some light source illuminating the top of the tower, but it's not very bright. It casts Nicole's features into shadow, breaking up her face into jagged bits of expression that leave the rest up to our wild imaginations. Does she look enraged or terrified? Excited or resigned?

All we can accurately read is her body language, and she's holding herself tightly coiled like a snake ready to break loose.

Ooh, snakes. They have pointy teeth, too.

I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts of Nicole's teeth and the myths surrounding them that I almost miss the moment when she first steps onto the plank. The resounding breath that the crowd takes is enough to recapture my attention, though.

Nicole wobbles for a second and I'm sure she's going to fall. She's up too high. She couldn't survive no matter how she landed.

But she doesn't fall. She steadies herself and keeps going.

Spine held as straight as a ruler, arms stretched out slightly like a noncommittal gymnast, Nicole strides across the board. Her steps are as light as a dancer's. She makes the whole thing look so easy that I wonder if the judges of Panic have made a mistake in the design of this challenge.

In just a few more moments, she's on the other side. A resounding roar goes up from the teenagers below, so loud that they can probably hear us back in Carpe. I'm sure that if the police didn't know where we were before, they do now.

Deirdre shrieks and claps in glee. Xander just raises his eyebrows, nodding and looking impressed. "Thirty seconds," he says, just before the emcee calls out the same time.

"Were you timing her or counting it?" I ask him, impressed.

"Neither. I just sort of...sensed it."

"Wow. You're good."

Our conversation is interrupted when the emcee's friend calls out, "Next up...Sage Green!"

"Shit," Jake exhales, apparently forgetting all about metaphorical pitchers and their ears. "Sage, please don't do this," he begs as I climb to my feet and dust off my butt.

I consider saying something witty in response, but there's a real chance that this will kill me. Whether I live or die, my problem would be solved, but I don't want my last words to Jake to be mean or even sarcastic.

"Hey," I try instead, turning to him and attempting a warm smile. It doesn't quite fit right. "It's going to be okay. With money like this, I can get us both out of here."

"We don't have all night, Sage!" comes from behind me.

I flash the finger at the emcee and start towards the water tower as other watchers whistle at my badassery. (Or maybe just my ass. God, I hate rural Texas.)

It's only when I grab the first rung that everything starts to feel real. I've always been good at regulating my emotions, though. Sometimes it feels like there's another creature in my brain, lurking in its darkest corners, that can just shut off my feelings. I take advantage of that helpful little parasite now, pushing my fear into a cage and throwing away the key.

I climb the water tower.

Rung after rung, step after step, I make progress. The sounds of the crowd below dim and quiet. I can't tell if I'm mentally blocking them out or just getting far enough away or both.

And then I'm at the top, just like that.

I'm standing on this rusted behemoth of a structure, staring out at the town that raised me. Carpe stretches into the horizon, civilization growing into a cluster of twinkling lights before it once again thins out into the occasional farm or isolated home. It looks inviting for the first time I can remember.

I would rather live on top of this water tower for the rest of my life than live in that town.

"Come on, Sage!" drifts up to me from that stupid emcee. I growl low in my throat and cross the water tower to the wooden board stretching over the abyss.

Only it isn't an abyss, not really. I am very, very aware of the solid ground at the bottom, waiting for me to fail.

I shouldn't have looked down. Now my stomach is churning.

Take advantage of the brain worm, Sage. Push it out and away.

I take a deep breath, feeling the calming effects of good, old oxygen flooding my system.

And then I step onto the board.

I fix my gaze on the opposing water tower. Slow and steady might have won the tortoise his race, but it sure won't win me $50,000. I have Nicole's time to beat -- thirty seconds.

Speaking of Nicole, she's still up here. I didn't realize she hadn't climbed down. She's sitting in the shadows, leering at me like a...well, like a vampire waiting to drain someone's blood.

Walk towards her, Sage. Walk towards the weird vampire girl.

Find out if the teeth thing is real.

I take another step and then another. The crowd below me is getting louder now. It's like my ears are adjusting to the altitude, letting in more sound. I imagine I can hear Deirdre cheering me on, Xavier calling out encouragement, Jake begging me to turn back.

I ignore them all and push onwards.

When I reach the middle of the plank, it shakes concerningly. My stomach teeters with it.

"Don't fall," Nicole calls out helpfully. I make a not-so-nice gesture in her general direction, too focused on following the command to come up with a witty comeback.

"Seriously, Green. I don't want to see you splatter your brains against the ground."

That gets my attention even more than the potential doom beneath my feet. Nicole, being nice to me? There's a first time for everything, I suppose.

"Just look at me and walk," she coaxes.

Against my better judgement, against any ideas lurking in my head that this is somehow a trap, I do. I focus on her gaze and take one step. Then another.

The board stops wobbling. I'm getting towards the end. I'm not going to fall.

Now that my footing is surer, I can walk faster. I'm at the other side before I know it, jumping off the board and sighing in relief at the metal, however old and rusted it may be, that's now beneath my feet.

An overwhelming cheer goes up from the crowd below me, the noise deafening.

I've done it. I've beat the second challenge of Panic.

Nicole whoops, her gaze feral. Then it darkens and she glares at me. "Don't speak of this" -- she points between myself and her -- "to anyone. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," I reply, giving her a cocky salute. My insides still feel like jelly and my legs are a little wobbly, but I'm too elated to care. Right now, all I can think about is getting back on the ground.

We descend as my time is announced -- thirty-five seconds, good enough -- and the next contestant is called up. I graciously let Nicole go down first. Truthfully, I still don't entirely trust her not to put a boot in my face and take out some of her competition.

As soon as my feet touch the ground, huge arms encircle me and I'm lifted into the air once again. Jake pins me to his chest so tightly, I can hear how fast his heart is beating.

"I was sure you were going to die," he says breathlessly.

I smile up at him as he puts me down. "Don't be dumb. I can't die, remember?"

"My mistake," he replies, returning my grin.

Deirdre and Xander rush up to me next, Deirdre latching herself to my leg and screeching like a banshee, Xander going on excitedly about how I centered my weight and took advantage of physics or some crap.

Their enthusiasm overtakes me. As Jake sweeps me into another hug, setting me down a full 180 degrees from where I was initially standing, I see Nicole retreating into the shadows. (Once again, vampiric imagery comes to mind.)

She gives me a half-smile when she sees me but presses a finger to her lips as she vanishes into the tall grass. No telling where she's going -- she's always been a weird loner.

But she's going to be popping up again throughout the summer, playing this stupid game with me. And only one of us can win.

She may have been nice to me this time, but it can't last. Not when only one person can walk away with the $50,000 grand prize.

I have no idea what the future competitions are going to be. They're going to amp them up, that much I know, but after tonight's display, I dread to imagine what that might mean.

I don't have to worry about that for right now, though. Now, all I'm going to do is hang out with Jake, tutor Deirdre, babysit Xander, and continue my policy of avoiding Nicole at all costs.

Oh, and wait for the next clue, the one that will lead us to the next game.

I'm going to win Panic. Even if it kills me.