A few more slamming lockers echoed into the showers, and I knew the whole place would be empty by the time I forced myself from beneath the spray.
I was in no hurry, ignoring my rumbling stomach and taking my time to suds my entire body up. I spent a little extra time on my calves and quads because they were tight as hell and then washed the rest of me until there was no trace of a hard practice left.
By the time I turned off the water, the locker room and showers were quiet. After shaking out my hair, I grabbed the towel I’d left on the hook just outside the stall and rubbed it over the damp strands and then roughly dried the rest of me. Wrapping the towel around my waist, I walked to my locker, wondering what Mom had made for dinner.
The locker door opened with a squeal, and I reached inside, fingers grabbing for my clothes. When they didn’t instantly close around them, I tried again.
Pulling back, I stared into the metal container and realized it was empty.
All of my clothes, even my gym bag, were gone.
Confused, I pushed the door around, checking to make sure I had the right one. I even checked the lockers on each side and under the bench.
No clothes.
No gym bag.
Not even a stray pair of socks.
It was cold in here. I was still damp and in nothing but a towel. All I wanted was to put on my sweats, go home, eat dinner, and pass out.
Just to do it all over again tomorrow,the voice chimed in.
Yeah, well, routine is comforting,I bit back.
“Hello!” I hollered, the boom of my voice echoing in the empty room. “Ha-ha, guys, very funny.” I went on. “I’m slow, and you got me. Now bring back my clothes.”
You’d think after a practice like we’d had, no one would be in the mood to do anything extra, even if they thought it was funny.
The room stayed still, the cold air pinching my nipples and making the joints in my fingers ache again. Or maybe that was the way I clutched the towel around my waist.
“I’m serious!” I roared and stormed over to the door. More cold air gusted at me when I pulled it open and stepped out into the hall. “Give me back my shit!”
Something squeaked at the other end of the hall, and I spun, towel flapping around my hips. We both startled when we came face to face, the custodian looking more surprised than me.
I crossed my legs just because I was embarrassed and wrapped my free arm around my waist. “Have you seen anyone running around with my clothes?” I asked.
“Nope. Place is empty,” he said and continued on, the wheel of his cart squeaking obnoxiously. “Kids these days,” he muttered as he went.
I went back in the locker room and searched the entire thing—even the coach’s office. My clothes and bag were nowhere to be found.
I did find the keys to my truck, though. They were beside the water cooler in the back.
With those clutched in my hand, I debated. I could call my mom. Have her bring some clothes. But then I’d have to explain this situation.
Pass.
I left the locker room, my bare feet slapping against the cold floor and hesitating at the back door leading out to the sidewalk.
My only solace was that most everyone was already gone for the day.
Pushing back my damp hair, I took a breath and stepped outside into the bitter air. It was cold, but at least the drizzling rain wasn’t snow.
My skin recoiled almost immediately, tightening around muscle and bone like shrink wrap. Sucking in a breath, I hurrieddown the sidewalk to the lot where my truck was parked. A car came down the road behind me and laid on its horn, and I leaped so high my feet left the pavement and lurched into a nearby bush.
The car continued by, and I lay there on my back on the damp grass, breathing heavily and staring up at the gray sky. It was then that I felt a breeze.
A breeze where there should be no breezes.
