She gave the locker door a hard slam. The sound echoed through the corridor, bouncing off walls laden with flyers commanding, "Come to the Halloween Dance." But she would not be there, or at any other school function, because this was the last time she would slam her locker door.

She would never again feel the cold hard metal as she fumbled for her combination. 30 ... 24 ... 10. They were meaningless numbers that she would try to forget.

She remembered the time she struggled with the lock because it just wouldn't open. Then Justin helped her open it and later took her out for a pizza. Or the time she opened her locker and found roses with a card that simply said, "Forever ... Justin." Or on her birthday, when she found two champagne glasses and a gallon of chocolate milk (her favorite drink) with a note that commanded, "You and me. The park. After school. Be there." Or the time ... stop it, she told herself, reminiscing about the past is pointless since the present is so awful to bear. She hit her head against the locker as if the pain would dissolve any memories she had of him.

How could he tell her that he found someone else? Was it because of her? What had she done? Whatever it was, she said, "I'm sorry, very sorry." "Don't cry," he said, "you know how I hate girls who cry." "What do I have that she doesn't?" Oh, she had forgotten, say it loud and clear: CANCER ... CANCER ... CANCER.

She felt the tears streaming down her face and thought she would rust the locker. She opened the locker once more and slammed it over and over again until it hurt too much to continue. She was to leave for the hospital the next day and needed to retain her strength.

She would to leave the school and the locker she treasured. She gave one last look around and sighed to herself. Content, she left the school while muttering, 30 ... 24 ... 10 ... 30 ... 24 ... 10 ... 30 ... 24 ...n