by C.J Duggan
Chapter Two
Third period and I was a prisoner in double English.
I prayed that Scott didn't need to go to his locker between classes. My heart pounded against my rib cage, and my hands were clammy as I watched the agonisingly slow tick of the clock above Mrs Romano's desk. Would Adam's actions start an all-out war? I already thanked the timetable Gods that Scott was not in my English class.
My plan was simple: hightail it to the locker room, grab my stuff and be gone before Scott even noticed his redecorated locker. Then I would just avoid him for the rest of the year. Which sounds totally hard, but wouldn't be considering there were only three days left of school. By then we would all be cheering 'School's out for Summer', Alice Cooper style.
Three days; three ? more ? days.
A wad of paper landed next to my hand, and I flinched, for more than one reason. Luckily, English was pretty safe, no horsemen of the apocalypse in this class, which made it a welcome refuge. I secretly unfolded the crinkled paper under my desk.
You smell like Spray and Wipe.
My mouth twitched as I glanced sideways to where Adam sat, two people across. I met his devilish eyes, and he grimaced dramatically.
I discreetly eyed Mrs Romano, sitting on her desk at the front of the class, eyes downcast, animatedly reading aloud from her text. I scribbled my reply and did the tap down the line to pass it along. Like a lady would. I focused intently on the book I was meant to be following along with, knowing that I wouldn't be able to contain myself as I envisioned the raise of Adam's brows as he read my reply.
What's that, banana man?
It went back and forth for the remainder of the class, which I was grateful for as it made the time fly. Once the bell rang, I was jolted into the cold, harsh reality that awaited me.
Lunchtime.
I didn't even think to wait for Adam or Ellie; I was too focused on running to the locker room and praying that the combination of detergent and boy cooties hadn't jammed up my lock. Adam had tested and opened it easily enough; surely it would be okay? I dodged and weaved through the thickening flow of bodies down the hall, cursing the distance between my locker and the English room as I got stuck behind a group of giggling Year Seven girls. I burst through the doors and quickstepped down the stairs. I heard the distant yell of "No running!" from Mr Hood, but I had to risk it. Detention would seem like a holiday camp compared to facing off with my ex.
After tripping over my foot and dropping a textbook, I inelegantly made an entrance into the locker room. There were not many people in there, but the few who were there were laughing, crowded around Scott's locker which had been marinating in banana for the past sixty minutes.
I ignored them and made a beeline for my locker with enough time to unload my books, grab my bag, and hide in a bush for the rest of the day. I froze, my sparkling padlock in my hand. What the hell was my combination? My mind had gone completely blank. Panic set in as more students flooded the room and saw Scott's locker. I bit my lip. No, no, no ? I looked up, finding the eyes of Kim Munzel, the resident grunge girl of our year, on me. Her green, scary eyes were caked with heavy make-up that was partly covered by a gel-sleeked jagged fringe - the longest part of her crudely short haircut. She seldom spoke and when she did, it was with a bad attitude. So why was she smiling at me?
She grabbed her bag and walked up to me, her dog chain clinking on her low-rise baggy jeans. I turned my attention back to my lock, pretending that it was the most interesting thing in the world. At that point in time it really was.
What was the bloody number?
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Kim had stopped next to me.
"Hey."
I glanced around. Was she talking to me? Oh God. Yes, she was looking right at me.
"Hey," I said in a small voice.
"Did you do that?" Her head nodded towards Scott's locker, which was now semi-circled by a crowd.
Before I could get my thoughts together enough to form a coherent sentence, her smile tilted to form an evil grin.
"Nice job." Her scary eyes looked me over as if giving me a seal of approval, and then she left. So. Weird. The crowd peeled back to allow her through. She had that kind of effect. The locker room was now full of students; a mad hub of activity for the lunchtime rush.
Oh God! I fumbled madly with my lock, guessing combinations in a frenzied effort. Scott would be here any moment. I turned the dial and tugged in desperation as if I was MacGyver and this was the last chance to crack the code before the bomb went off. Some people asked themselves: 'What would Jesus do?', but I always asked myself: 'What would MacGyver do?' MacGyver would probably be able to pick the lock with a crusty, chocolate-covered stick. I'm sure he could.
TUG! TUG! TUG!
I thudded my head against the locker; it smelt like disinfectant and was probably cleaner now than it had been in the past decade of use by past students.
I felt hot breath blow into my ear as a voice whispered, "4-3-2-5-9-6." I jumped, spinning around to see a laughing Adam.
"Geez, McGee, jumpy much?"
"432596! My combination! Oh, praise sweet baby Jesus." I turned the dial and heard the magical click of freedom; it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. Which was ironic considering it was counterbalanced with the most horrible sound I could have heard right then: Scott's angry voice. Oh crap!
"What the ??" his voice trailed off as he closed the distance towards his locker. The crowd parted eagerly. They'd been waiting for this moment; their eyes darted from him to me and back again. Just as I feared, you wouldn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out they would assume it was me. I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to throw up.
Adam stood stock-still beside me, silently taking in the scene. I felt the press of someone on my left. Ellie had appeared from thin air and was at my side. If it weren't for my bookend buddies, I feared my legs would give out. I slowly turned to my open locker; best not to stare. While I pretended indifference, I heard him yell out to me.
"Oh yeah. Nice one, Tess," he sneered.
I did my best 'I'm bored' look from my locker. Scott stood next to his. Wow, if looks could kill. He was flanked by nervous-looking buddies, who were slowly opening their own lockers. Some friends they were, none of them even offering to get him a paper towel.
Scott hurled the banana peel across the room and opened his locker as if it wasn't covered in mush. He threw in his books and slammed his door shut, casting me a filthy look before storming out. His entourage looked at each other and appeared to be as surprised as I was. Like the mindless zombies they were, they quickly scurried after Scott, throwing uncertain glares my way.
I was just about to let my shoulders sag in relief when I heard it, right next to my ear. The solitary sound of a slow clap.
Adam.
"Way to go, Tess, way to go!"
It was as if I had just been carried out of a factory by Richard Gere or something.
This was not how I expected the day to go. Although things had taken an unexpected turn that had me smiling into my opened locker, Scott's voice echoed in my mind.
"You may have won the battle, Tess, but you haven't won the war."