Maybe I should be scared of dark, cramped spaces. This is what, the fourth time this month they’ve crammed me into my own locker? Their sneers echo into the tiny cavern while I try, and fail to turn. My legs are already cramping from the awkward position while I try to not step on my books. With no room to flex, my neck grows stiff and I have to keep my head at an angle like I'm examining something in a museum. My shoulders ache, bunched together in the tiny twenty-four inches of hollow metal.

  At least Angela and her friends could only talk once they pushed me in. I don’t even pretend to resist anymore, it only spurs them on and puts everyone at higher risk.

  I can’t lose control.

  Best to let them have the upper hand. My crappy old flip phone illuminates my metal tomb, the only thing Lucy’s family could afford for me. Really, it’s sweet of them to keep paying for it, even when they couldn’t foster me anymore.

  Too bad it doesn’t have any music; Bruno Mars might block the insults on the other side of my metal sanctuary. At least I can text Lucy. It doesn't take long to scroll through my limited contacts.

  They got me again.

  “Hey, Griffin.” Angela slaps the locker. “You pass out? Guys, she passed out!”

  I roll my eyes. A quick look through the slots would reveal the highlight of the screen on my face. She just prefers fantasy.

  My phone jingles with Lucy’s assigned text tone.

  -_- You can get out of there. Why do u put up with this crap?

  I suppress a groan while typing, You know why.

  Even if Angela wasn’t still jeering outside the locker, there are security cameras.

  “Hey, Griffin. How’s it feel to be alone?” One of the squad bangs on the locker, like a drum. The sound makes me jump and I thump my head on the top shelf. Was that Katie? Hard to tell her from Ramona. To me, they're mostly just the tweedles.

  “I know, right?!” The second tweedle howls like a hyena before smacking her gum. Okay, that was definitely Ramona. She'd been blowing a big, neon bubble when they approached. “I mean, I heard of the red-headed stepchild. But you couldn’t even accomplish that!”

  I blink, rubbing my head and a little shocked that Ramona accomplished using that word correctly. She must be taking her F on last week’s vocab test seriously.

  “You think she dyes it?’ Angela peered into the locker, her highlighted locks glowing at the edge of her silhouette. I flip the phone shut, concealing my expression. The sooner they lose interest, the sooner Lucy can let me out, hopefully before the security guard makes his rounds.

  I so don’t need this to get reported. If Angela and the tweedles get even an hour of detention, the next month would be miserable.

  “Yeah, little wanna-be Orphan Annie.” Another silhouette joined Angela’s, blocking all my light. “Sing us a song, Annie.”

  My jaw aches before I realize I've been grinding my teeth.

  “Don't you idiots have any new material?” My voice echoes back to me as the cackles outside my locker die. Every muscle in my body clenches in the silence.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Me and my big mouth.

  “Oh, you’re bored, Griffin?” There’s a slurping sound on the other side of the rolled steel just before Angela tosses her mocha at the slots.

  The syrupy drink scalds my fingers and burns my feet under my sandals. I recoil and yelp, slamming my head against the coat hook in the back. With the two girls blocking most of the light, all I see is stars. Their laughter echoes and grows.

  Dang it, why’d I have to open my yap? Angela’s been bugging me for three years; I know the drill. Let her feel big and powerful; she always skips away, content with the ego boost.

  “Hey!” A new voice that I can’t place in my daze

  Angela lets out a curse and the trio scuttles off, their shoes slapping the linoleum.

  I'm still blowing on my knuckles when new footsteps pound close. It takes everything in me to suppress a groan. Looks like there’ll be a security report. Maybe I can wear a helmet to class for a bit. I’ve already heard all the jokes about special ed; couldn’t hurt.

  “You alright, Molly?” The lock starts clicking and a big grin cracks my face.

  Only two other people know my combination, and for all her big talk, Lucy can’t scare a chihuahua, let alone Angela. Unless she has her hockey stick. God himself would run from Lucy with a hockey stick.

  “Yeah, I’m okay.” The door opens and the light blinds me. Man, I’ve only been in the locker for about five minutes, but that’s plenty when the fluorescent beams reflected off my glasses. “Thanks, James.”

  He smiles, his teeth overlapping and crooked, and holds out a hand.

  “No prob. Miss Stevens caught Lucy texting so she sent the Bat Signal before handing over her phone.” James shows me his phone. A BAM comic effect repeats on a GIF as Batman punches a cheesy-looking Penguin.

  “Well, thanks.” I pull myself from the locker, ignoring his hand. I don’t want to get this sugary caramel junk all over him.

  “Wait.” He seems to take a quick inventory, looking me over head to toe. “Did they burn you?”

  “It’s just overpriced caffeine.” I wince when the hook catches on some of my hair, pulling me back. I slip on the coffee and fall hard, yanking the tangle free and slamming my head on the locker floor. My now-drenched books don’t create much of a landing pad.

  “Jesus, Molly!” James lifts me by the shoulders, like I’m fragile. “We gotta get you to the nurse.”

  “No way.” I rub my head with the palm of one hand. “No reports.”

  “I mean it, you might have a concussion.”

  “I said no!” I yank my shoulders free from his grip.

  We stare at each other. A little awkward with my three inches on him. But what he lacks in height, he makes up in attitude. James is bulky, with muscle and covered head to toe in black, using as many studs as the school will permit. Especially in his gloves and boots.

  Where I’ve learned to just wait my bullies out, James learned to fight back. People might talk smack about him behind his back, but no one stands toe-to-toe with him.

  And he doesn’t care if you were a girl.

  He’s been suspended a couple times, but people learned fast. Now, he just wore the get-up as a reminder. On the weekend, it’d be comic shirts and loose jeans, with shoelaces perpetually untied.

  His parents were too busy to notice the drastic change in wardrobe or the numerous disciplinary actions from the school.

  Finally, James closes his amber eyes and lets out a long breath. “Do you need a distraction to get back into class?”

  Some of the tension seeps from my body. If he’d wanted, James could have tossed me under his arm and dragged me to the nurse, caveman style. “Nah, I was in study hall on a bathroom break when they caught me. I doubt Mr Anderson has even noticed how long I’ve been gone.”

  “You sure?”

  “I gotta clean my books anyway.” I nod towards the coffee, still dripping from my locker. “But thanks.”

  “Alright, well, take care, I guess.” He looks at his phone. “You got ten minutes before the bell rings.”

  He leaves, and I fish through my locker for the bargain brand cleaning wipes. Crap, I’m almost out.

  How sad was this? I’m so used to this crap, I keep Clorox wipes in my locker like some kind of neat freak. Still, they’re handy. It takes a while to clear the sugary concoction from my locker; I barely have enough time to run back to study hall for my backpack, carrying three books dripping with coffee.

  I’ll have to let the custodian know there was a spill. Or should I clean it myself? He was supposed to lock the cleaning closet, but he never does.

  Kids sneak in there all the time to smoke or fool around.

  I groan as coffee drips behind me, like a trail of shame. Why can’t I just hit back?