the lockers around hers open and close relentlessly throughout the unwavering certainty of the gregorian calendar – the history of which has, of course, been taught in third period – and the incessant and reckless shoving and slamming echo along the corridor.

  students fumble with their coded padlocks – some with their keys – as the rush to put away their unnecessary books and paraphernalia causes a bustling zigzag of heads on shoulders on knees crouching down and heads on shoulders on knees on tippy-toes reaching to the top row.

  the faded scents disperse and disperse until they no longer remain. days pass, then weeks, then months. christmas goes by, the merry sleighbells and churchbells and jinglebells are faintly heard by those far away and loudly heard by those nearby.

  five weeks afterwards, a scared little girl who is scarcely aware of her place in the world and is a long way off from figuring out who she even is, hand trembling, arm shaking, blood rushing, tenderly fiddles with an unfamiliar device, setting the code to her best friend’s birthday.

  she is assessed by other faces, some new, some old, but all new to her. one boy, wholly unaware of the consequences of his actions, creates a lifelong memory by cruelly cackling and announcing to the world: “ewww, gross! she’s got the Dead Girl’s locker!!”

  the combination lock clatters to the floor and the silence is so loud that it pierces her heart so it stops. minutes pass where nothing happens. she is horrified, but unsure what by. she is too small and too young to understand, yet she knows that something is wrong.

  slowly, with a steady pace, she picks up the lock, puts her bag in her locker, shuts it, locks it and walks away.

  but no matter how far she walks, she feels a myriad of eyes ruthlessly stare her down until she feels that she can no longer take it. this girl, this victim of circumstance, suffers from a mystery history and is one of the rare few who truly understand helplessness.

  ten years later, she can envision no moments clearer than that one. the boy does not remember at all – to him, the comment was just another funny little joke.