Plus One.
The Beginning
Misty evening sunlight poured through the windows, spilling through the glass in the doors onto the corridor floor. Clouds of dust swirled in the air, sparkling golden. A frustrated moan and the sound of futile fists and feet against metal echoed down the long hallway for a few seconds, then reluctantly accepted defeat.
The double doors at the end of the corridor swung open silently as a young girl walked down the deserted school corridor. She smiled to herself and swung her messenger bag off her shoulder as she neared her locker. She slammed her door open, the noise reverberating down the hall.
“Hello?! Can you help me?”
The girl nearly dropped the book she was holding in shock at the voice. She peered down the empty corridor and frowned. No one, she must have heard someone shouting outside. Her shoulders relaxed as she released a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. Simple explanations for everything. Her elbow knocked the door, making it clash with the next one again as she leaned in.
“Helloo! You still there? I could seriously use some help!”
She stopped again. No, it wasn’t outside. The owner of the muffled voice was somewhere down the corridor. She stepped nervously into the center of the hall and peered carefully along it’s length. But it was empty and classroom doors where all shut. Nobody.
Nothing for it except, “Hello?” She called out nervously.
“Hello!”
The voice sounded as through it had never been so glad to hear another person speak before.
“Um… where are you?”
There was a laboured pause. “My locker.”
The girl looked again down the long, empty corridor, pacing backwards and forwards. Nobody; not even a janitor. Well, ha freakin’ ha. Obviously somebody had thought they could hide somewhere and freak out the new kid.
“Oh yeah, very freakin’ funny. Class joker, huh? Make the new girl think there’s ghosts or something? You don’t know me at all.”
The girl spun round and slammed her foot to the ground, storming towards the door. She hated moving schools, she hated new kids she had to make friends with, she hated…
“No!” It sounded… desperate. “Don’t leave! I’m not joking…” She slowed her foot stomping. “I’m just… in my locker.”
“Sorry?” She turned back round in surprise.
“I got… shoved in my locker.” He sounded almost ashamed. A dull metallic thunk came from further down the hall; she wouldn’t have been surprised if the owner of the voice was bashing his head against the metal prison.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“What number are you?”
“348.”
She traced the raised, black letters over the locks with the tips of her fingers as she walked down the corridor, looking for the locker.
“Who shoved you in?”
“People,” he replied tightly. “Idiots.”
She reached the temporary prison and banged on the door.
“This you?”
“Ow. God, yeah.”
She wrapped a finger through the lock on the door, fruitlessly tugging at it. “What’s your code? The ‘idiots’ locked you in.” There was a deep breath from inside and a pause. “Well, come on! Or else you’ll never get out.”
“348.”
“What, the same as your locker number?” She laughed quietly as she spun the numbers round. “That’s lame.”
“Yeah, alright.”
The voice inside sounded tired, as if he’d been called ‘lame’ a million times before.
“Sorry.”
“Whatever.”
The girl twisted the locker handle and opened the door, to catch a glimpse of a boy with brown hair, before he fell out of the cramped space on top of her. He scrambled up quickly and stretched out his hand to help her up,
“Sorry.”
She laughed and accepted his hand, “ No worries.”
“And thanks. I could’ve been stuck in there for hours,” he gave her a wide grin.
“I should forget my History book more often, in case you ever need a rescuing angel again.”
He turned to the locker,
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Right,” it seemed like the conversation was over. She stared, lost for a moment, at his back and then composed herself. “See you around then…”
He ignored the opportunity the exchange names and merely appeared more engrossed in sorting his books out and locking his locker. “Yeah. See ya around,” he muttered.
And then the young boy picked up his rucksack, a little worse for wear, and disappeared. She rolled her eyes.
“Oh yeah, I’m so great at making friends. I can’t even get a guy I rescued from a locker to tell me his name.” She shook her head and followed him out of the building.
The double doors at the end of the corridor swung open silently as a young girl walked down the deserted school corridor. She smiled to herself and swung her messenger bag off her shoulder as she neared her locker. She slammed her door open, the noise reverberating down the hall.
“Hello?! Can you help me?”
The girl nearly dropped the book she was holding in shock at the voice. She peered down the empty corridor and frowned. No one, she must have heard someone shouting outside. Her shoulders relaxed as she released a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. Simple explanations for everything. Her elbow knocked the door, making it clash with the next one again as she leaned in.
“Helloo! You still there? I could seriously use some help!”
She stopped again. No, it wasn’t outside. The owner of the muffled voice was somewhere down the corridor. She stepped nervously into the center of the hall and peered carefully along it’s length. But it was empty and classroom doors where all shut. Nobody.
Nothing for it except, “Hello?” She called out nervously.
“Hello!”
The voice sounded as through it had never been so glad to hear another person speak before.
“Um… where are you?”
There was a laboured pause. “My locker.”
The girl looked again down the long, empty corridor, pacing backwards and forwards. Nobody; not even a janitor. Well, ha freakin’ ha. Obviously somebody had thought they could hide somewhere and freak out the new kid.
“Oh yeah, very freakin’ funny. Class joker, huh? Make the new girl think there’s ghosts or something? You don’t know me at all.”
The girl spun round and slammed her foot to the ground, storming towards the door. She hated moving schools, she hated new kids she had to make friends with, she hated…
“No!” It sounded… desperate. “Don’t leave! I’m not joking…” She slowed her foot stomping. “I’m just… in my locker.”
“Sorry?” She turned back round in surprise.
“I got… shoved in my locker.” He sounded almost ashamed. A dull metallic thunk came from further down the hall; she wouldn’t have been surprised if the owner of the voice was bashing his head against the metal prison.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“What number are you?”
“348.”
She traced the raised, black letters over the locks with the tips of her fingers as she walked down the corridor, looking for the locker.
“Who shoved you in?”
“People,” he replied tightly. “Idiots.”
She reached the temporary prison and banged on the door.
“This you?”
“Ow. God, yeah.”
She wrapped a finger through the lock on the door, fruitlessly tugging at it. “What’s your code? The ‘idiots’ locked you in.” There was a deep breath from inside and a pause. “Well, come on! Or else you’ll never get out.”
“348.”
“What, the same as your locker number?” She laughed quietly as she spun the numbers round. “That’s lame.”
“Yeah, alright.”
The voice inside sounded tired, as if he’d been called ‘lame’ a million times before.
“Sorry.”
“Whatever.”
The girl twisted the locker handle and opened the door, to catch a glimpse of a boy with brown hair, before he fell out of the cramped space on top of her. He scrambled up quickly and stretched out his hand to help her up,
“Sorry.”
She laughed and accepted his hand, “ No worries.”
“And thanks. I could’ve been stuck in there for hours,” he gave her a wide grin.
“I should forget my History book more often, in case you ever need a rescuing angel again.”
He turned to the locker,
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Right,” it seemed like the conversation was over. She stared, lost for a moment, at his back and then composed herself. “See you around then…”
He ignored the opportunity the exchange names and merely appeared more engrossed in sorting his books out and locking his locker. “Yeah. See ya around,” he muttered.
And then the young boy picked up his rucksack, a little worse for wear, and disappeared. She rolled her eyes.
“Oh yeah, I’m so great at making friends. I can’t even get a guy I rescued from a locker to tell me his name.” She shook her head and followed him out of the building.