The new girl
Maya was a sixteen year old girl who just got transferred to Westbrook high school.
The first thing Maya noticed about Westbrook High wasn't the students.
It was the silence.
Not the kind that came from an empty building. The hallways were crowded with teenagers laughing, lockers slamming, and teachers calling students to class. Yet beneath all the noise, there was another kind of silence—a feeling that everyone knew something they refused to say.
Maya adjusted the strap of her backpack and took a slow breath.
"First day," she reminded herself. "Just get through it."
Her family had moved only a week earlier, and everything in her life felt unfamiliar. New town. New house. New school.
A fresh start.
Or so she hoped.
As she stood studying the hallway map, someone bumped into her shoulder.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!"
Maya turned to see a smiling girl with curly brown hair balancing a stack of books.
"I'm Emma," the girl said, laughing nervously. "You must be the new student."
Maya smiled back.
"I'm Maya."
"Need help finding your class?"
"I'd appreciate that."
"Come on. I'll show you around."
Together they walked through the crowded hallways.
Emma pointed out the library, the cafeteria, the gym, and the science wing.
"Everyone's pretty friendly here," Emma said.
Then she hesitated.
"Well... most people."
"What do you mean?"
Emma glanced over her shoulder before answering.
"You'll hear rumors."
"About what?"
"The school."
Before Maya could ask another question, the warning bell rang.
Emma forced another smile.
"We'd better get to class."
Their first class was history.
Mr. Collins welcomed Maya and asked her to introduce herself.
She stood at the front of the room, suddenly aware that every pair of eyes was on her.
"My name is Maya. I just moved here from Riverside."
A few students smiled politely.
Others didn't react at all.
One student near the back of the room never looked up from his notebook.
He seemed completely uninterested.
When class ended, Maya noticed him leaving without speaking to anyone.
"Who's that?" she asked Emma.
Emma followed her gaze.
"That's Jordan."
"He doesn't seem very social."
"He wasn't always like that."
"What changed?"
Emma looked uncomfortable.
"I don't really know."
But the way she avoided eye contact made Maya wonder if that was true.
During lunch, Maya wandered into the cafeteria carrying her tray.
Every table looked full.
Before she could panic, Emma waved her over.
"Over here!"
Maya sat beside her.
Jordan was sitting alone across the room, eating quietly while reading a worn notebook.
"He always sits by himself?" Maya asked.
Emma nodded.
"Ever since..."
She stopped herself.
"Ever since what?"
Emma looked around carefully.
"My dad says we shouldn't ask questions."
"About Jordan?"
"About anything that happened two years ago."
Before Maya could respond, the cafeteria suddenly fell silent.
A tall man in a dark suit entered.
Vice Principal Grant.
He smiled politely at the students.
"Good afternoon, everyone."
The chatter slowly returned.
But Maya noticed something strange.
Jordan had stopped eating.
His eyes were locked on Vice Principal Grant.
Not with respect.
With fear.
After lunch, Maya headed toward her English classroom.
As she passed a row of lockers, she heard voices around the corner.
"...she doesn't know yet."
"...she wasn't supposed to come here."
"...keep watching."
Maya frowned.
Who were they talking about?
She carefully peeked around the corner.
No one.
The hallway was empty.
She could have sworn she'd heard someone.
Trying to shake it off, she continued walking.
Then she noticed a locker with a faded number:
117
Its paint was scratched, and unlike the other lockers, no one seemed to use it.
A janitor pushing a cleaning cart suddenly appeared behind her.
"You should keep moving," he said quietly.
Maya turned.
"Why?"
The old man glanced at Locker 117.
"No reason."
His voice suggested otherwise.
The final bell rang.
Students rushed toward the exits.
Maya packed her books and started home.
As she reached the front doors, someone brushed past her.
It happened so quickly that she barely noticed.
Until she looked down.
A folded piece of paper lay at her feet.
She picked it up.
There was no name.
No handwriting on the outside.
She unfolded it.
Only five words were written inside.
Stay away from Locker 117.
Maya looked up immediately.
The student who had bumped into her had disappeared into the crowd.
She folded the note and slipped it into her pocket.
Someone had gone through the trouble of warning her.
But why?
And what was so important about Locker 117?
As she walked home, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her.
From a second-floor classroom window, a shadow stood perfectly still.
Watching.
Waiting.
And smiling.
