The next day, my question is answered at my locker. Something’s stuck in it, and if I don’t get it open soon, I’m going to be late to class.
Looking around the hall, I see it’s mostly empty except for Parker and Briggs.
“Hey!” I yell at them as they head down the hall.
They turn back but don’t say anything.
“Can you help me get this open? I need to get my book.”
They turn and continue down the hall.
“So that’s how it’s going to be?” I say to myself as I bang on my locker door, trying to dislodge whatever is stuck.
“Need some help?” someone says.
I turn and see Oliver there. He’s one of the tech nerds who spends all his time in the computer lab. He’s friends with Calvin, the guy I drove home when his car wouldn’t start. Oliver doesn’t look as geeky as Calvin. He’s tall and not as skinny, and he doesn’t wear glasses. But he still gets picked on because he’s quiet and doesn’t stand up for himself. I’ve always thought he’d be a good match for Charlotte, but she has no interest in him. She’s holding out for a guy who looks like Briggs, but nobody else in school looks like him. Hardly any guys are as hot as Briggs, and he knows it, which is why his ego is so huge.
“I can’t get this open.” I step away from my locker. “Something’s jammed in it.”
Oliver steps up to my locker and tries the door. “Did you do the right combination on the lock?”
“Yeah, it’s not the lock, it’s the door.”
He messes with the lock, and a few seconds later, the door pops open.
“It was the lock,” Oliver says. “Someone put something in it.”
“Like what?”
“Something that makes it stick so it doesn’t click into place when you put in your combination.”
I sigh, knowing exactly who would do that. “Thanks for getting it open.”
“No problem.” He smiles at me.
I grab my book and shut the locker. “I have to go. I’m late.”
“Bye, Ella,” he says as I’m running down the hall.
When I see Briggs at Chem lab, I decide not to acknowledge his little stunt to make me late to class. We both know he did it, and telling him to stop his juvenile pranks will make him do it all the more.
“Do you know how to do this?” he says, shoving the lab manual my way.
“Yeah, I looked at it this morning. Why?”
“I’m not in the mood. You’ll have to do it.” He starts looking through his phone.
“You’re not going to help me? Like at all?”
He doesn’t answer. I thought he might be halfway nice to me after what happened Saturday night, but he’s back to his old self. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if those guys turned me in to the cops and made up some story about me being the one at the wheel that night. If they do, I’ll find a way to turn it back on them. There’s no way I’m letting them destroy my future.
“For the next few labs,” Ms. Higgins says from the front of the room, “I want you and your partner to meet outside of class and brainstorm practical ways you could apply what you learned in the lab. Don’t just go online and look something up. If you do, your grade will reflect that. I want you to come up with these ideas on your own and then explain them in a short paper that will be submitted online.”
The class groans, and people are rolling their eyes.
“I know you don’t want to meet outside of class,” Ms. Higgins says, “but in the real world, you’ll need to learn how to brainstorm and problem solve with other people, even people you may not like.” She glances at Briggs and me. “And you’ll often have to do work outside the traditional hours of your job.”
“We’re all rich,” Briggs mutters, swiping through his phone. “Nobody’s going to be working a regular job.”
