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I
Note to self: the next time a friend asks for help involving their relationship, just say no. Otherwise, I’ll find myself stuck in the boys’ locker room yet again. In fact, I’d be royally screwed just like the present.
The bell had rung and it was only a matter of seconds before the door would open and guys would come bounding in from all possible directions. As quickly as I could, I grabbed the pants with the shiny silver flip phone in it and slammed the locker shut again, after it had taken me so long to get the sucker open. The door opened behind me and I dropped my phone. “Crap!” I swore, looking for it, but there wasn’t time. I had to hide, somewhere, anywhere. With that thought, I launched myself over the benches and ran down a row of lockers, the backdoor was close by, I hoped.
Voices were traveling down the rows, guys laughing and cracking jokes with each other. Lockers were opened and slammed shut again, everything echoing off the metal. “Okay, who took my pants?” shouted John Goggin. Cringing, I slinked along the lockers, the cool metal against my back, yet doing nothing to help my profuse amount of sweating. I was going to get caught, I knew it.
Laughter erupted again at Goggin’s statement and I could hear the lockers opening again, searching for his pants that were currently in my hands, size 30-32, so it would seem. Feet moved up and down the rows, Goggin looking for his stuff. He was getting closer, the door wasn’t there, it was at the other end. Oh God, I was as good as dead. And I blame Juan Bisbal!
My backpack was the next thing to hit the floor followed by my ass. Stretching out my legs and leaning against the wall, I pulled out my i-pod and sunglasses, ready for at least another half an hour to forty minutes of sleep till first hour. Hopefully someone would be so kind as to wake me up, if I were lucky.
I had been dozing when something sat down next to me, I didn’t want to open an eye to see what it is. Needless to say, it did the job for me. One earphone was snapped off my head and the sunglasses pushed down the bridge of my nose. The sunlight burned my cornea, my pupil shrinking by the moment. Rolling my head, I saw him, my supposed best friend since 5th grade who did nothing to help me whatsoever, if anything, he made life more painful. “Juan, it’s not even eight, way too early for me to have to listen to you,” I remarked, pushing the sunglasses back up.
“Marley, Marley, Marley, never the morning person are you?” he retorted back.
“Hey, unlike you, I actually do my homework so I don’t have to ace all my tests, which means reading, hours of reading till three in the morning, retard, which is what I did last night. Now unless you’ve got something pertinent to tell or ask me, scram, my hormones are whack, I can’t deal with you right now,” I said straight-forwardly. And what did he do? Juan laughed at me. “This is not funny, salsa boy, what do you want?”
I should have known he was going to ask me to do something the moment he turned his eyes me, but did I? No of course not, idiot that I am, I let him open his mouth. Bad, bad idea. “We’ve been friends a while, haven’t we?” he asked, giving a small smile with his lips slightly upturned.
“Fifth grade,” I replied.
“Wow and now to think we’re seniors in high school, college in one year. We’re going to have keep in touch…”
My head whipped back to look at him. “Graduation is still eight months away and you’re getting sappy and sentimental on me now?” Not going to lie, I was slightly surprised.
“I mean, think of all we’ve been through…” Oh Christ, flashback to middle school and then onward. “You becoming a loner in eighth grade, the two of us becoming best friends in eighth grade. High school, meeting new people, Sunday Night Pizza Night at Nello’s. Watching you get your tongue pierced. Watching me get smashed. All the detentions…
“Two, I have had two detentions,” I snapped. Two was not a high number; it was relatively low compared to some other numbers.
“All the people we’ve liked…the people we’ve dated…” he kept on going.
“I haven’t dated anyone yet, butthead. You, however, have been dating Grace forever and a year, man,” I stated, rolling my eyes.
“Which brings me to my next point.” Looking pointedly at me, Juan raised his eyebrows. “As you know, I happen to like, almost love, Gracie very much, but you see we have one little problem,” Juan began to explain.
“And what might that be?”
His face turned sullen and I felt bad for the guy, it is the job of a best friend after all, and that is what I, Marley, am. “She’s lab partners with John Goggin,” Juan practically whispered to me, in a very pained voice might I add.
“John Goggin?” I repeated stupidly.
“John Goggin.”
“THE John Goggin?”
“Oh for Christ’s sake, Mar, captain of the lacrosse team, calculus genius, dated Kristie Adamson, heartthrob, the—“
“I know who he is, dumbass. What’s wrong with him being Grace’s lab partner?” I interjected before he could get any farther in the analysis of John Goggin, Regis Prep extraordinary kid.
Taking in a deep breath, Juan began, “Well, he only broke up with Kristie over the summer; it’s been two months, meaning it’s time he moved onto someone else. That someone else being my darling Grace, and that just can’t happen because she’s my darling Grace…get where I’m going with this, Marley? Or shall I put it in simpler terms?”
Smiling wryly, I smacked him none too nicely in the arm, my smile growing wider when he flinched just the littlest bit. “Yeah, I get what you’re saying. You think Grace is cheating on you with Goggin—“
“No, he’s trying to put the moves on her. I trust her, not him. Difference. So, I need your help,” he told me bluntly. Subtly was by far not his forte. He started out good then Juan just killed himself.
“My help? What the hell do you expect me to do? I don’t know Goggin and I don’t run in the same social circle as Grace,” I shot back, I wanted no part of it.
“You don’t have a social circle numquat—“
“Exactly, so I don’t know why you’re even asking me for help.”
And then he got that evil gleam in his eye, the kind the kid you’re babysitting has in his eye right before he hurls on your nice new Steve Maddens, and yes, I speak from personal experience. “Well, since Mr. Brenna is sick today, you won’t have Latin period five, so you’ll have a study hall right?” I nodded. It had sounded harmless at that point. “Goggin has gym period five.”
“You want me to go to gym class and take him out?” I questioned, slightly baffled. Yeah right, I wanted to take on the modern day Hercules, because that would be a rollicking good time.
“No!” shouted Juan, obviously peeved at me. “You couldn’t take him out if you tried. I want you to take his cell phone!”
He wants me to take Goggin’s cell phone? What kind of plan is that? “What kind of plan is that?” I shouted back at him.
“Then I’ll know exactly what he’s talking to her about. She only normally gets text messages from him, which she never lets me see.”
Narrowing my eyes I at him, I shook my head in refusal. “Absolutely not. If I am caught, I will be in so much trouble, Bisbal. You’ve got a better chance being as how you’re actually allowed in the boys’ locker room. I’ll be expelled most likely, if not suspended and definitely not allowed to walk graduation. I want to walk graduation!” I seethed at him. Four years of preparatory high school hell, I was walking graduation one way or another.
Groaning, Juan said, “Listen up here, drama queen, all you have to do is in the middle of fifth hour, get to the locker room, call me, I’ll tell you his locker and combo, you grab the phone and keep it till lunch. You’ll be in and out in ten minutes max, even that’s pushing it.”
“What makes you so sure I’m going to do this anyway, Juan? You seem to forget, I’m not the most sly person around here, and I’m certainly not stealthy,” I jogged his memory, wanting one hell of a good answer.
“You owe me for saying I was the one who tripped Jenny Grey into the lockers two weeks ago.” His sickly sweet smile made me want to hurl on his shoes, that little shit.
“Okay fine, but you better pick up your phone and I’m only doing this once, if I don’t get the phone, I don’t get the phone, got it, Einstein?” Nodding, he threw his arms around me, clutching at me tightly. Yeah…way too early for this crap on a Tuesday morning.
Quickly and semi-quietly, I walked through the halls, luckily avoiding both administration and maintenance. The gym was off a ways, not too far, just far enough. Tucking my hands in my khaki pockets, I walked into the building, waving to my badminton and fencing coach as I walked into the girls’ locker room, which fortunately led to the then vacant coach’s office and into the boys’ locker room. So I’m sneakier than I thought, but I still might be caught.
Once in, I pulled out my slider phone and called Juan, listening as it played some salsa song for his ring. Great, now I had the urge to mambo. “Are you in?” His voice abruptly jarred me and I gave a small jump, grateful no one was there.
“Yes, now hurry up!” I whispered vehemently to him.
“What’s that? I can’t hear you,” he told me, chortles in his voice.
“Yes, I’m in here, Captain Stupid. What are the locker and combo?” I questioned impatiently, wanting to get the hell out of there.
“Locker three-forty-one, combo six, twenty-four, eighteen. Grab the phone; I’ll get it from you at lunch next hour.” With that, my so-called best friend had shut his phone on me, leaving me to do all of HIS dirty work. Oh, he’s going to get it for this.
Walking the rows of disgusting and smelling lockers, I scanned for number three-forty-one, it didn’t take long to find it; it had the most clutter around it, five other sport bags and so on. And it was the most potent of the bad smelling lockers. Ugh. Holding my breath, I tried the combo. The lock came undone, but the locker was jammed shut with all of his things inside. Wonderful. Think Marley.
Looking innocently from side to side, I kicked the locker hard. Bad idea, made it worse. Stamping my foot on the ground like the immature person I was, I walked back to the coaches’ office and found the screwdriver they kept there. Never know when it may come in handy.
Shoving it into the side of the locker, I forced the screwdriver through and used the leverage to pry open Goggin’s locker. Damn, I’m good, I should make it my profession…nah; the jail system wouldn’t have much appreciation for my recitations of Cicero and Ovid. Throwing the screwdriver onto the top of the lockers, I opened Goggin’s locker fully, holding my nose as the stench permeated everything. And there were his pants right in front of me…. his boxers covering them. “Oh this isn’t fair, damn it!” I whispered outrageously to the ceiling I was staring at. Juan owed me, he beyond owed me, he was going to be licking my shoes clean until they were spotless.
Using my thumb and forefinger, I daintily, very daintily, picked up his boxers and pushed them to the back of the locker. Okay, that wasn’t too bad. And that obnoxious ringing noise was the bell. Grabbing the pants, I kicked the locker shut, scrambling to put the lock back on, not closing it all the way. He’d never know the difference.
Turning around, I knocked into the bench, my phone tumbling out of my hand. I heard it fall somewhere. “Crap!” I shouted, this time loudly. Knowing there was no time to look for it, I sprinted down the row and jumping over the benches full of guy stuff. The door opened and an even stronger smell of sweat managed to make its way in. The school really needed to invest in a new ventilation system, because I couldn’t stop gagging.
Lockers were opening, the metallic sound ringing all around me. Finding a new row to go down, I looked for the door to the coaches’ office only to realize it was at the other end. I was dead, plain and simple; death would be coming quite swiftly in only a matter of moments. With no thought, I grabbed the phone from the back pocket and shoved it into mine, backing up, right into a solid wall, a solid wall that had a hand that conveniently stifled my scream of shock. Turning around, I found myself at the mercy of the school’s creep…Juan Bisbal was going to be in a lot of pain at lunch.
AN: please review; it’s my latest story. I think I actually know where I’m going with this one, not so much with Walk Over Me. So please review, and just let me know, constructive criticism is always nice.
.The Foconut.