It All Started With A Locker

Chapter 3

Hunter's POV

"Hunter, you'll be late for school. Get up!" Grandma calls from the kitchen.

"I don't like school, Grandma. It's a waste of time," I grumble.

"It's not a waste. You can get a great job and be more successful than—"

"Don't say it. I'll be ready in ten minutes," I reply, swinging my legs off the bed.

Another semester of school—great. I'm exhausted; I barely slept last night.

I brush my teeth and take a cold shower, hoping it keeps me awake until I can catch some sleep in detention.

I put on leather jeans, black shoes, a black T-shirt, and my new leather jacket. After combing back my light brown hair, I place my black shades on my head and sling my bag over my shoulder.

"You look so handsome! Why don’t you have a girlfriend yet?" Grandma jokes.

I would if they weren't afraid of me.

I laugh and kiss her cheek, grabbing a waffle as I leave.

"Remember to be home by 11. I worry on school nights," she reminds me.

"I will, and don't worry; I'll try to get the money soon," I assure her.

"Just be careful and don’t land in jail on your first night."

"No promises, but I'll try."

***

I arrive at school on my motorbike and take off my helmet.

A few people glance at me before returning to their conversations, likely intimidated by my glare. Why are they afraid of me? Sure, I ride a motorbike, I'm in a g**g, I have a bad reputation, and I struggle with anger issues, but I’m cool.

Stupid stereotypes—people assume my mother is dead and my father is in jail, which is why I’m in a g**g.

"Move out of my way," I demand as I enter the school, and people part for me.

"I thought he was expelled last semester."

"I heard he threatened the principal."

"I heard he sold drugs."

I clench my jaw as I walk past the gossiping crowd.

I hate those people.

"Hunter McCoy, glad to see you on time. Here’s your new locker combination, but you have to share it with someone," the secretary says, handing me a paper. We've become friends since I’ve been here almost every day since freshman year.

The first bell rings, and I head into the corridor.

I stop when I see a girl opening my locker. She has honey blonde hair and outdated clothes.

I fold my fists.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demand.

She turns around, her emerald eyes wide with fear.

"Um..."

"This is my locker. Now scram," I hiss. I didn’t mean to be so harsh, but I can’t deal with her friends crowding around.

"But this is my locker too," she mumbles.

"Look, nerd, I’m in a good mood this morning, so go before I make your life a living hell," I threaten, hoping to scare her off. Everything goes quiet.

I see her recognize me, and she turns pale.

The second bell rings.

"Oh no, I’ll be late for class!" she gasps, hurrying down the hallway.

I hope I don’t have to see her again.

Everyone is still watching the scene unfold.

"Mind your effing business," I snap, putting my books in the locker.

___________

Trish's POV

I reach my English class just as the teacher walks in. I take a seat in the second row at the end—no way am I taking a middle seat again to get things stuck in my hair. I pull my hoodie over my head as Mr. Lewis begins class.

"Hello, loser! Glad to see you made it to school," Sandra smirks, flanked by her two friends as I approach my locker.

"Seriously, what are you wearing? This is so last century," Monica says, tugging at my jacket.

"No wonder you’re so unpopular. You have no style. Let’s make it look worse than it is, shall we?" Kimberly grins, dumping her orange juice on me.

I gasp. "Oops, my bad," she laughs.

"You..."

"We're popular, and you're not. That’s why your so-called 'friend' will ditch you too," Sandra chuckles, and they walk away, blowing kisses to freshmen.

"Smile, nerd," someone laughs, snapping a picture of me.

I dash to the janitor's closet and cry.

"Hey, you okay?" someone asks, opening the door. I look up to see the same girl from earlier, with chestnut hair and sea green eyes.

"Yeah, I’m fine," I sniff, wiping my nose.

"They're awful. I hate girls like that," she smiles. "Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I have an extra top in my locker, and then we can go for lunch."

Grace Jennings is nice—a transfer from Australia. She's a junior but only 16 after skipping a grade in middle school.

"I'll see you at the café," I say, and she nods.

I need to put my books in that locker before Hunter shows up.

I open the locker and stash my books inside.

"I'm just saying she's hot; that doesn't mean I want to get with her," I hear a familiar voice and turn to see Hunter with his friends, Victor Stone and Spencer Rivers.

"But she totally has the hots for you, dude," Hunter jokes, punching Spencer’s shoulder.

Spencer’s gaze lands on me, and I gulp.

"Um, Hunter, why is there a girl by your locker?" he asks, and I see Hunter snap his head in my direction.

"I told you to get lost, nerd," he snaps.

"This is my locker," I protest.

Spencer laughs. "Dude, you have to share a locker with a girl? You're lucky, man. My locker mate is a stupid jock."

"I'll take the left side and keep your things on the right. If I see any pink in there, I’ll throw it in