But…
He wrote to me. I can’t throw this opportunity away. And, just like him, I want to talk to him again.
So, I write a response.
4
Aaron: Locker 99
Writing the note was a dumb idea. I hadn’t planned to do it, but I thought about the stranger all weekend and all Monday too. During the morning presentation on scholarships, I replayed everything that happened in the closet, then abruptly stopped when I realised I was at risk of popping a boner in a crowd of my classmates. During my morning classes, I analysed everything the stranger had said. During my maths double, I stressed over whether I had said anything that was too honest or exposed my identity. I knew I must have been acting weird because Jude gave me the side-eye all class.
During lunch time, I wondered whether I had been a good kisser and decided I must have since he responded so passionately. I was so involved in these thoughts that my friends kept teasing me for being off with the fairies. I didn’t even have the mental space to pay attention to The Lily Problem, even though Lily was sitting beside me, close enough for our elbows to brush.
During my final double of the day, I indulged in a daydream where we spoke again. This time, it’d be in a storeroom or a janitor’s closet. We’d talk. Maybe our arms would touch. Perhaps we could kiss again.
Before I left school that day, a moment of madness led me to scribble out a note and stick it on the boys’ bathroom mirror when I was the only one there. I weighed the risks and decidedthe worst that could happen was that someone would think it was rubbish and throw it out.
But after sleeping on it last night, I’ve decided it was a dumb idea. I worded the note innocently enough, but I’m still paranoid that someone will realise that I don’t want to talk to the stranger platonically. A note from one boy to another? Come on.
Also, I don’t want to get my hopes up. Every day, I’ll hope for a response that might not ever come. He could ignore it. It’s fifty percent likely he doesn’t even go to this school anyway.
So, as soon as I arrive on campus on Tuesday morning, I march straight for the Year 12 boys’ bathroom. It’s empty, and my stomach drops when I see my sticky note is gone. Someone must’ve chucked it in the bin. Maybe the cleaners removed it.
Nonetheless, I get close to the mirror’s corner to make sure. That’s when I see it.
A rectangle of lined paper has been taped to the side of one of the porcelain sinks. Discreet and positioned in such a way where it won’t get splashed with water.
I peel it off as quickly as I can.
Hide and seek,
Locker 99. Code: the date we met.
That’s all.
I stare at the note, unmoving, when the bathroom door bangs open. “Heyyy, dude,” Ricky calls, passing by me and giving me a shake. “How’s it going?”
I shove the note into my pocket. “Yeah, good!”
“You’ll never believe what happened last night,” Ricky starts. “So I go to the servo to pick up some energy drinks…”
He proceeds to piss in the urinal while telling me a story about…well, I don’t know what, exactly. I should be listening, but I’m thinking about locker 99.
Who does that locker belong to?
I’m locker 94 since my last name is Wynn. There are only three students after me, resulting in a total of 97. As far as I know, locker 99 is empty.
I still have fifteen minutes until homeroom. Thankfully, no one bothers me once I arrive at my locker and drop my bag off — all my friends congregate around Ethan's locker.
I grab the folders I need for my first two periods, then casually stand in front of locker 99. It has a combination lock on it, whereas those to its left and right don’t.
Someone put a lock there. My stranger.
I take a step closer, about to touch it until a bark of laughter has me skittishly glancing over at my friends. Ricky and Ethan are joking while Mimi covers her mouth, horrified.
Beyond them, the rest of the Year 12 locker area is crowded with students arriving. No one appears to be looking at me, but you never know.
He can’t know my identity. What if, for some reason, he tells the rest of the school all the things I confessed to him? Not that I think he’ll do that, but how well can I really know him after one conversation? I can’t trust him blindly.
