Scenario:While jogging, Claire’s yoga pants rip because they are skin tight. Unfortunately, she went commando this morning.
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While jogging, Claire’s yoga pants rip because they are skin tight. Unfortunately, she went commando this morning.
Claire Harrington
She is a dedicated high school English teacher living in the historic district of Charleston. She is curious, resilient, and witty. While jogging, Claire discovers a hidden map in her father's old belt, leading to a mysterious treasure hunt. This adventure transforms her world, introducing her to new friends and stirring up memories of her late father. Balancing everyday life with this thrilling pursuit, she embraces the excitement and awe of uncovering secrets and treasures.
Henry Lee
He is a charismatic student in Claire's English class with a penchant for drama and theater. He is flamboyant, supportive, and creative. As Claire's assistant for school events, Henry helps her navigate the logistics of the treasure hunt. His enthusiasm and insight into local lore provide valuable assets to the adventure. Though his theatrical nature sometimes causes distractions, he is a loyal ally, adding humor and energy to the team's endeavors.
Isaac Tate
He is a brilliant historian with expertise in Charleston’s history and architecture. He is intelligent, reserved, and meticulous. Working at the city museum, Isaac collaborates with Claire and her team to decipher the map's secrets. His analytical mind and access to historical records are crucial in understanding the treasure's context and identity. Though quiet in public settings, his contributions are pivotal to unraveling the mystery surrounding the map and its significance.
The pants split open with a deafening rip.
I landed hard on my butt, but I’m not so sure the sound wasn’t worse than the fall.
I groan as I scramble to my feet, pulling what’s left of the cotton-blend fabric together to hide my bare ass.
Well, this is humiliating.
I guess that’s what I get for going commando this morning and for wearing yoga pants that are so tight, they’re practically a second skin.
I should have known better.
Yoga pants are for yoga.
Not jogging.
Especially not the kind of jogging I do that involves running so hard I’m not really sure how I don’t pass out from lack of oxygen.
I look down at my father’s old leather belt strapped around my waist.
The weight of it shifts against my skin as I scan the street, but I’m grateful to find that no one is around to witness my wardrobe malfunction.
Clutching the torn fabric together with one hand, I turn around and start a careful walk back toward my house.
It’s only three blocks away, and I can make it if I keep my legs pressed together.
I just have to hope that no one sees me.
My fingers brush against the leather belt as I walk, reminding me of its presence.
The car comes out of nowhere, approaching from behind me.
I duck down behind a large oak tree, pressing myself against the rough bark and holding my breath.
The car slows as it approaches, and I squeeze my eyes shut, praying they don’t see me. The car rolls past me, and I let out a sigh of relief as it disappears around the corner.
But then it hits me—the familiar yellow color of the car, the way it slowed down when it approached.
I know that car.
It’s Henry’s Volkswagen Beetle.
He must have seen me.
There’s no way he didn’t see me.
I’m sure he’s circling back around right now to laugh at me in my torn pants and leather belt.
I hold my breath again, waiting for him to return, but he doesn’t come back.
Just as I start to relax, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I fumble it out with one hand, seeing Henry's name flash on the screen.
"Hey, did you just see me?" I answer, trying to sound casual despite the situation.
"See you? What do you mean?" he asks, his voice cheerful and oblivious.
I press the phone against my ear, crouching down behind the tree again.
My other hand is still clutching the torn fabric of my pants together.
"I was just jogging," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Oh, yeah. I was driving home from the theater. We had a rehearsal for the school play."
Henry is one of those guys who is always involved in something—school plays, debate team, volunteer work.
He’s the kind of guy who will probably end up being the president of some company or something one day.
He’s smart and driven and ambitious.
And he’s also one of my best friends.
But right now, I’m not really interested in talking about his latest extracurricular activity.
I’m more interested in getting home without anyone seeing me.
"Okay, well, I should probably go," I say, scanning the street again.
It’s still empty, but I know that could change at any moment. "Wait, don’t hang up yet," Henry says.
"I need to tell you something."
I sigh and lean back against the tree trunk, trying to get comfortable despite the fact that I’m crouched down in an awkward position with one hand clutching my pants together.
"Okay, what is it?"
"It’s about the school play," he says.
"They’re having auditions next week and I think you should try out."
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me.
"I don’t think so," I say.
"You know I hate being on stage."
"But it would be fun," he insists.
"And you could use a hobby. You know, something besides running all the time."
"I like running," I say defensively.
"And it’s not like I don’t have any hobbies. I have lots of hobbies."
"Name one," he challenges me. "Um…"
I scan my brain for an answer but come up empty.
"Well, there’s running," I say finally.
"That doesn’t count," he says with a laugh.
"Name something else."
I sigh again and shift my weight against the tree trunk.
My muscles are starting to cramp from crouching down for so long and I can feel the tear in my pants starting to spread even further. "Look, Henry, can we talk about this later?" "Sure," he says quickly.
