First chapter... enjoy, and pick up the book if you like! Kristi checked her watch. 2:20. Katie wouldn’t be out of her last class for another thirty minutes, which left just enough time to engage in a little nostalgia. It had been over a decade since she’d graduated high school. She’d only been back in the building once—but just to vote, and that had just been limited to the rather nondescript gymnasium. Now, as she made her way into the main hallway, Kristi felt like she was being transported back in time. The shiny, waxed floor… the smell, the feel… the smooth, polished wood of the trophy case across from the main stairwell. The glass case spanned the entire wall of the common area. It contained a few additional shiny awards and plaques… some yearbooks from recent years, open to particular pages… but other than that, it was just as she remembered it all, thirteen years ago. And, ah, it was still there. The trophy. BOYS VARSITY FOOTBALL, CLASS A, 1999 …and, below that: STATE RUNNER-UP That little pang of regret, of grief—how close that team had come! It had been their best team ever. They’d only lost one game all season, had swept their way into the playoffs, all the way to the title game. The stuff of fairy tales—a true Cinderella story, and led by Kristi’s own Prince Charming. They’d led with less than four minutes to go, against the top-ranked team in the state… only to lose in the waning seconds. These feelings, intermixed with a longing, a tingling—Kristi smiled wistfully as she recalled what else she’d lost, later that night. How cliché… the head cheerleader, the heartbroken quarterback, behind the bleachers… Anyway. She bit her lip. So long ago, and yet it seemed like only yesterday. There were displays with trophies and accolades from other sports, plus academic-geared competitions such as “Mathletes”… Kristi, a perennial “C+” student, had never been much for that crowd. The next display case brought the butterflies back to her stomach. It was a mini-shrine to her aforementioned “Prince Charming,” highlighting his college success and his brief foray into the ranks of professional football. The high school’s own “claim to fame.” The display was peppered with newspaper clippings. Local boy makes good, yada yada yada. Kristi didn’t need to read them… although the two of them had broken up midway through senior year, she still had all of the articles in an old shoebox in the closet, and had long ago memorized them word for word. She walked a little farther down the hallway, past the general office and around a corner, a walk she’d taken hundreds of times. Banks of gray student lockers lined this part of the hallway. Kristi walked past the door labeled “GIRLS” and stopped at the seventh locker. “1276”, proclaimed the steel tag at the top. Unbidden, the numbers popped into her head, even after all this time. On a whim, she reached down, spun the dial clockwise several times, bringing it to a stop on 14. Counterclockwise, passing the 14 once, then coming to rest. 27. Back the other way now, till the pointer rested squarely on the white 5. It can’t possibly still work, Kristi thought. Almost certainly, the combinations would get changed as new classes came in. By rote, she pulled the shiny silver latch. To her astonishment, it slid up with a loud click, and the locker swung open. Kristi smiled and shook her head in amazement. What a trip down Memory Lane! How many years, and the combination was still the same. How many others had had this locker since her? “Aw, gee, math was never my favorite subject,” she giggled semi-aloud. Nevertheless, she tallied in her head… three other students had been assigned this locker, suffered through four years, then graduated… and now a fourth would already have taken up residence. Three entire “generations”… She half-expected to see the Alanis Morissette mini-poster on the inside of the door, as it had been for the duration of her junior and senior years. For a moment, her mind told her that this was what she saw. Then she realized it was a cutout picture of Adele. Not an altogether different genre, though, she mused. The locker was neatly organized—much more so than it had ever been during Kristi’s tenure. A pink sweater hung from the hook in the main section of the locker, and the floor hosted a short stack of books. Primero Paso—Introduction to Spanish. Algebra. Beginning Composition. And the now universally-familiar black cover of Breaking Dawn. But Kristi’s interest was quickly drawn to the small shelf near the top of the locker. A few spiral notebooks, an orange, various pencils and pens… and the mirror, adhered to the rear wall of the locker. It can’t be… It was the same mirror. The little heart and shamrock decals still adorned the mirror’s edges. Kristi and one of her classmates had done those, junior year, on Valentine’s and St. Patrick’s days, respectively. They were a little faded… but still there. She reached in, past the pencils, pens and the fruit, taking hold of the corner of the mirror and pulling. The magnetized backing of the mirror wrestled with her momentarily for possession, then relinquished it. Kristi’s jaw dropped in awe. The gaping hole was still there. At some point in time, probably back when Kristi was still in grade school, an industrious stoner had swiped a set of pliers from Shop, and had cut away a generous section of the sheet metal that comprised the rear of the locker. The resulting opening had then been cleverly covered with the mirror. The result was a “secret stash” area, consisting of the couple of inches between the rear of the locker and the cinderblock face of the hallway’s wall. Realizing it would be impossible to stifle her curiosity by now, Kristi reached into the secret area. She felt no surprise at all when her fingers brushed, and then closed around, a cold bottle. Her hand shaking, she withdrew it. Jagermeister, she smiled. Oh how I know thee. It had obviously been left there by one of the locker’s subsequent occupants—Kristi’s vice of choice had been peach schnapps, which she would certainly have never left behind—but she found herself unscrewing the cap anyway. Raising it, taking a whiff of the licorice-like aroma… “Just what do you think you’re doing?” a stern voice abruptly barked. Kristi yelped in surprise as a strong hand closed around her shoulder…
Posted on: Fri, 27 Jun 2014 20:22:15 +0000
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