Wrong Locker
897 Words
By the time I found my locker, I had convinced myself I was imagining things.
People whispered in high school.
That was normal.
People stared.
That happened too, especially when someone new—or in my case, someone returning after years away—walked through the halls.
I was overthinking it.
I had to be.
I checked the small piece of paper in my hand.
Locker 214.
I looked up.
A smile spread across my face.
"I still remember this hallway."
It wasn't the same locker I'd had years ago, but it was only a few doors away.
Funny the things your brain decides to remember.
I slipped the combination lock open, smiling to myself.
"So far, so good."
Then something caught my eye.
At first, I thought it was just a shadow.
A black mark across the metal.
I leaned closer.
My smile disappeared.
One word.
Written in thick black marker.
SLUT
For a second...
I simply stared at it.
My mind refused to understand what my eyes were seeing.
Then I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was ridiculous.
"Wrong locker," I whispered.
It had to be.
There were hundreds of students here.
Someone must have written it for another girl.
Maybe they had the wrong locker number.
Maybe someone switched lockers over the summer.
There had to be an explanation.
I looked around, half expecting someone to step forward and apologize.
Nobody did.
Students walked past.
Some glanced at my locker.
Others glanced at me.
No one stopped.
No one spoke.
No one looked surprised.
I reached into my backpack and pulled out a packet of tissues.
I dampened one with water from my bottle and began rubbing the letters.
The black ink smeared immediately.
It stained the white tissue.
"This marker is terrible," I muttered.
The words sounded strangely loud in the quiet hallway.
A girl walked past.
She slowed.
Watched me clean the locker.
Then continued walking without saying a word.
I kept scrubbing.
Little by little, the letters faded until only a faint gray outline remained.
"There."
I stepped back and smiled.
"Much better."
It was childish.
Probably some freshman trying to be funny.
Nothing worth worrying about.
I refused to let something so stupid ruin my first day.
I took a deep breath and opened my locker.
Empty.
Cold.
Waiting to become mine.
I placed my textbooks neatly on the bottom shelf.
Hung my backpack on the hook.
Pinned my class schedule to the inside of the door.
Tiny things.
Ordinary things.
They made me feel grounded.
Like maybe the rest of today would finally start making sense.
As I closed the locker door, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.
Across the hallway, two girls stood near the water fountain.
One of them held up her phone.
At first, I thought she was checking a message.
Then I realized...
The phone was pointed at me.
Our eyes met.
She lowered it immediately.
I frowned.
Maybe she was taking a picture of someone behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder.
The hallway was empty.
When I turned back, both girls were already walking away.
"That's... weird."
I shook my head.
Social media.
People took pictures of everything these days.
Maybe I had accidentally walked into someone's video.
I started toward my first class.
Halfway down the hallway, another phone appeared.
This time, it was a boy.
He pretended to be texting.
But the camera lens was facing me.
Click.
The sound was almost too soft to hear.
He quickly looked away.
A strange feeling settled in my stomach.
Not fear.
Not yet.
Just...
Unease.
Why would anyone be taking pictures of me?
I checked my sweater.
No stains.
I looked down at my shoes.
They matched.
Nothing stuck to my jeans.
I even touched my hair to make sure it wasn't sticking straight up.
Everything looked normal.
So why...
As I reached the classroom door, I heard laughter behind me.
Quiet laughter.
The kind people try to hide.
I didn't turn around.
I didn't want to embarrass myself if it had nothing to do with me.
The classroom was already filling with students.
I chose a seat near the window.
Just like I always used to.
Sunlight spilled across the desk.
For a brief moment, everything felt peaceful again.
Maybe I'd laugh about this later.
Maybe I'd tell Celeste how paranoid I'd been.
She'd tease me.
Maddox would make some ridiculous joke.
Cassian would roll his eyes.
Everything would go back to normal.
It had to.
I looked out the window as more students filed into the room.
Behind the reflection in the glass...
I noticed another phone.
Then another.
Someone zoomed in.
Someone whispered my name.
Another student looked over before quickly looking away.
My smile slowly faded.
I didn't understand what was happening.
But for the first time since stepping into Blackridge High...
I couldn't ignore the feeling that I wasn't being welcomed home.
I was being watched.
Just before the teacher walked in, I heard two girls standing outside the classroom.
One of them spoke so quietly I almost missed it.
"...she really came back."
The other girl answered with a voice barely above a whisper.
"She really doesn't remember."
The bell rang.
Neither of them came into my classroom.
And I couldn't stop wondering...
What exactly was I supposed to remember?
- Writer
