It’s seven thirty-three and I am standing by the mustard lockers. The mustard lockers that seem to be in a every crevice and plastered to every wall in this small school. I can only escape them when I go upstairs or outside where I am then surrounded by mass amounts of students rushing every which way. My mustard locker is in a small row against the office on the right side by the red lunch tables. It’s a sophomore locker I love to say, I am sophomore, no not an annoying, awkward freshman but yes a sophomore. My mustard locker is on the bottom yes the bottom which in these crowded commons might as well be the peak of Everest because it is nearly as difficult to get to alive oh and did I mention it’s behind a monstrous pillar? Yes a pillar. Lucky girl I am, lucky, lucky, lucky. What’s this? I look down and there he is, some gangly boy doing his homework by my locker? Who is this kid and where did he get the audacity to do homework by MY locker, yes mine. Oh no, no, no. I have never seen you before kid but you must leave, leave right now kid. Why have you come here strange boy? I look down at him sitting against the hideous, yellow pillar looking up at me with a sheepish grin. You know the grin people give you when they want to seem apologetic but they really aren’t? Yes that grin is the grin this kid is giving me now. I despise that grin. I look up and try to maneuver myself around the pillar and over the kid, almost falling over his chicken legs and landing face first into locker that would leave a permanent indentation on my forehead. Oh if he could only read my mind.. I feel like snatching his homework and tearing it to shreds like a dog with a new chew toy. I would throw them around the halls laughing all the while, then this kid would see. Why can’t he go to his own mustard locker to do his homework, or to one of the many vacant lunch tables ten feet away, or better yet why didn’t he just do his homework the night before? Ah a slacker, I can see that now. So that is why he chooses to sit here blocking my passage? I finally pry my locker open, turn three times then twice then slowly pass up the number and turn it until I hear a click then I twist and pull when it stops. I shove my lunch in and then my French book, I grab my Algebra two book then close, no slam the locker with excessive force. I stand, climbing back over the gangly kid and his chicken legs who is still doing his homework and step around the hideous pillar just in time to hear the bell ring. I take a final look at the foolish boy who encroached on my territory and the mustard locker which I will be seeing shortly after second period and trudge off to my first class.
January 28, 2010