Coming up in front of my new locker, I key in the combination and open it, glancing to my left and noticing another janitor scrubbing away another message on the wall. He’s erased the first few words already, but I know what it says.
You loved me, we were besties, I lent you my eye shadow.
But someday all you’ll be is someone I used to know.
-Punk
And underneath is a collage of ripped-out yearbook pictures from last year, showing sports teams and groups of students smiling at rallies and games, hugging and laughing with each other.
I hang up my bag in my locker and take out the travel size nail polish remover from the shelf. Glancing around to make sure no one is looking, I walk over and hold it in front of Mr. Thompson, the janitor.
“Nail polish remover will take off anything,” I suggest, seeing his face sweaty and red from the exertion of scrubbing so hard.
He pinches his eyebrows together, probably taken aback by my being nice for once. Not that I’ve ever talked to him, but I may have missed the trash can a few times when tossing away my Starbucks cups. But he accepts the bottle, nodding in thanks.
Luckily nothing used to write on the walls is permanent, but it’s still a hassle for the cleaning staff. Not that I care, but…
I turn to go back to my locker, but my eyes instantly lock with Masen’s, and I pause. He’s leaning against the lockers across the hall, watching me with his arms crossed over his chest and a curious expression in his eyes.
Has he been there the whole time?
I force myself to ignore him and start grabbing my books out of my locker for my first class.
“There you are.”
I turn and see Lyla, looking a little worse for wear. There’s sweat on her brow, and her cheeks are flushed. I hear her phone buzzing. “What happened to your other locker?” she asks.
I raise my eyebrows at her. Is she really going to act like there’s not a big, flaming slap to her face on the school’s front lawn right now?
Oooookay.
“Someone broke into it,” I answer, turning back to my locker. “Was it you? After my black Bebe top?”
She tosses me a dirty look. “Like it would fit. I’m softballs, and you’re baseballs, babe.”
I hold back my eye roll as I stuff what I need in my bag, making sure I have my water bottle. I cast a quick glance behind me and see that Masen is gone.
Lyla’s phone keeps buzzing, and I don’t know if it’s Facebook notifications or J.D. burning her up, but I really don’t care.
Some girls pass by, covering their mouths with their hands, and Lyla shoots them a scowl. “Bite me, bitches,” she growls. And they look away, carrying their smirks with them as they walk down the hall.
Manny Cortez comes up behind her and tries to open his locker, but she turns around, facing both of us. “Well, well, well, maybe it was Manny who broke into your locker. Did you need some lipstick to go with that eyeliner?”
I see his expression harden as he keeps his back to her and doesn’t respond.
“Nah,” I step in, shutting my locker. “Two different color palettes. I’m a Mountain Sunset. He’s A Smokey Night.”
Lyla laughs but then she stops when we hear a yell.
“Heads up!”
We both dart our eyes upward and see a football flying down, coming straight for us. We scurry back, but there’s no need. The ball slams into the left side of Manny’s head, and he’s knocked to his right, his hand immediately shooting to cover his ear as he winces in pain.
“Oh, shit.” Trey runs up to us, laughing. “Sorry, dude. I honestly didn’t mean it. This time,” he adds.
I watch as Manny breathes hard, his black eyebrows wrinkled up in pain. He brings his hand away from his ear, and I see blood. My eyes go wide, and I suck in a breath.
Oh, my God. Is that coming from his ear or out of it? Before I can find out, though, Manny slams his locker door shut and charges off, disappearing into the bathroom as the bell sounds off.
“Nice going, asshole,” I scold.
“Hey, it was an accident.”
I see him cast a look at Lyla, and then I see J.D. pop up behind him as all of the students hurry to class.
“Get in class,” J.D. tells Lyla, his jaw flexing.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I’ll finish talking to you later.”
She stands there, looking angry, but I don’t stick around to watch the outcome.
Walking past them, I head to Art, but I don’t see Masen in his seat. And by the time the bell rings, he’s still not there.