Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Locker ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: What's mine is mine, what's theirs is theirs. I don't own these characters and would very much not like to be sued.

Chapter Two:

It happened before I even got to my first class. I was hoping it wouldn't take long to register, since Aunt Hilde already talked with Mr. Howard, the principal, the day before, but by the time I finally got my schedule, homeroom was over and the halls were swarming with kids. I could feel stares boring into me as I came out of the office, but before I could figure out which direction to go, there was a shout behind me and someone tugged on my sleeve.

"Hey, Duo, wait up!"

The boy at my side was a few inches taller than me, no surprise there, with short blond hair.

"Didn't you hear me calling?" he scolded and laughed again, a carefree giggle that made me want to laugh with him. "You forgot your locker assignment," he added, waving a piece of paper in front of my nose. "And of course, _me_ -your official guide to show you around!"

His grin was as contagious as his laugh. His blue, almost an aqua, eyes crinkled up into little slits, and he ran one hand back through his short hair.

"I'm Quatre Winner, welcome to Gundam High. You _did_ just move here-isn't that what I heard?"

I nodded. "Over the weekend. But we're not really settled yet."

"It takes a while," Quatre agreed. "But you're only renting, aren't you? So it's not like you have to worry about bringing a lot of stuff, `cause the place already has furniture, right? If," he added thoughtfully, "you could call all that junk furniture."

He linked his arm through mine and bulldozed me through the packed throngs of students, totally oblivious to their rude remarks and teasing as he ran them down.

"How do you know so much about it?" I asked him, and he stopped again, leaning close with a giggle.

"That you're renting the old lady Une's place? `Cause my mom's the realtor." He shrugged and gave me a pat on the shoulder. "But even if she weren't, I'd still know about it. _Everyone_ knows when something happens here. You'll get used to that after a while."

"So who was the old lady Une?" I asked, trying to keep up with him again as he sped off down the hall.

"This town's personal pain in the butt," Quatre replied, waiting for me to catch up. "Snooped on the neighbors, complained all the time, had a zillion cats. She hated kids. Always complained we ruined her yard taking shortcuts through it. She loved to yell horrible things at us…so of course that's why we kept cutting through her yard."

I thought of the little yellow house tucked back from its picket fence, and the huge old trees sagging comfortably over its roof, and the climbing roses on the front gate, and the lilac bushes blooming by the back steps. Mentally I went through each of its small old-fashioned rooms cluttered with outdated furniture and useless antiques, and I thought of the upstairs bedroom I'd chosen for myself, a corner with sprigged wallpaper and windows on two walls, with views of the backyard and the empty weed-grown lot behind that and the quiet wooden house that sat next door.

"It's not that bad, I guess," I finally spoke up. "It's just that the house seems so old, and the furniture is really depressing."

"Well," Quatre said, "Miss Une was practically a hundred when she died, after all. How much taste could she have had?" He thought a minute, then added, "How come you wanted _that_ house? You could have rented one of the apartments over on Cleveland Street-they're gorgeous."

I felt bad when I heard that. "Well…my aunt likes houses with character," I said lamely, "And she wanted to live in a real neighborhood for a change. Where she could get to know people."

"Imagine that." Quatre looked slightly awed. "I've lived here my whole life and never even thought about it. I've always had neighbors and known everyone in town." He shook his head and dragged me off again. "Maybe your aunt could renovate that old house-make it nice again? That would sure impress everyone!"

"Do we need to?" I couldn't help asking.

"Need to what?"

"Impress everyone."

Quatre giggled. "Just the fact that you moved here at all it impressive! Everyone's wondering why!" He sighed and shook his head. "People are really nice here, but they probably won't accept you right away. So don't take it personally. That's just the way it is-nothing ever changes, no one ever leaves, and if you haven't done anything to make the neighbors gossip, they'll make something up!"

He swerved me sharply around a corner, pointing out various doorways as were rushed past.

"There's the library, if you want to call it that-there's the boy's bathroom, one of them, anyway-the newspaper office is that room to the left, and Mr. Jay, our counselor-he's old and senile, you know, like what could he possibly know about kids-lurks over there behind that door. Okay-that room-that'll be your homeroom-Miss Sally Po, same as mine-that door at the end of the hall leads outside, cafeteria to the right, gym to the left."

He broke off and waited for me to say something, so I nodded to show him I was keeping up with the tour. As five kids shouted something from the other side of the corridor, Quatre pointed at my head and shouted back.

"The new boy! His name's Duo!"

I didn't have to worry about telling anyone hello. Quatre clutched my arm tighter and hustled me off again before I could open my mouth.

"How big was your last school?" He asked.

"Well…" I had to stop and think. "About five hundred in the senior class."

"Well, there're _two_ hundred here, and that's with _all_ the classes." He shook his head and made a face at me. "Before next period's over, everyone will know your name, where you're from, and all the dark secrets of your past. Don't let the stares bother you. I know you feel like you're on display, but the truth is, they're all jealous of you."

"Jealous of me?" I sounded shocked. "Why-"

"Because you're from somewhere else. And nobody here has ever been somewhere else. Come on, I want to show you some more stuff."

"But what about class?"

"Hey, this is part of the initiation process," he scolded me.

The bell rang and everyone scattered. Quatre and I stood against the wall and watched kids stream out in every direction, funneling into open doorways until the hall lay empty and still around us.

"I'll take you upstairs. And then I'll show you the auditorium. And then we'll go to your locker, and then I'll take you to class, `cause I'm going there, too."

"Don't worry-in just a few days you'll be breezing around like you grew up here with the rest of us. And if you need anything at all-I mean _anything_-just let me know."

It's funny how some people just seem to click with the very first meeting. That's how I felt about Quatre, though I was trying really had not to. Living with Aunt Hilde, I've learned not to make friends too easily because I know I'll just end up leaving them. But Quatre made me _want_ to be friends, no matter if I left again or not.

It took about two more minutes to cover the rest of the classrooms, and then he hauled me out the back door and showed me the athletic field, then the gym, the cafeteria and snack bar, and finally the auditorium. The campus was small but much nicer than some I'd been to-there were trees everywhere and benches and even picnic tables for eating outside on nice days.

"Ahhh, if spring would just get here and _stay_ here…" Quatre took a last longing glance over his shoulder as he ushered me back into the main building again, and I nodded.

"I'm not used to your cold weather," I said.

"It's not usually this chilly in spring-though it _has_ been known to snow at Easter!" Quatre sighed. "Things are blooming and we're still stuck in jackets-I want sunshine and swimsuits!" He shut his eyes as if dreaming of summer, and let out a huge sigh. "Come on, let's go to your locker, and then we'll brave Ms. Noin's history class. If we're lucky, she'll spend so much time making you feel at home, she'll forget about the test we're suppose to have today!"

I had to laugh. As Quatre raced off again, he glanced at the piece of paper in his hand and quickly scanned the rows of lockers we were passing. Finally he stopped at the end of the hall, and as I caught up with him, I saw him stare at the top of the locker, then down at the paper, then up at the locker again.

"Is there a problem?" I asked, coming up behind him. "If it's already taken, I'll just go back to the office and ask-"

"No!" He whirled around, and for just a split second his smile had this odd little twist to it, almost like someone had pasted it there on his face. But then it melted into his familiar grin again, and I knew I must have imagined it.

"I mean…no, it's not taken," he said. "This one wouldn't be taken. As you can see, it's perfectly empty."

I couldn't really see, because the door was closed, but I followed the point of his finger to the end of the locker on the top row.

"Here it is," Quatre said. "Right here. You can go ahead and put your jacket in if you want-the building's always hotter than anyone can stand."

I was watching him as he talked, but he wasn't looking at me now, and he wasn't looking at the locker, either. His eyes were fixed on some vague spot in the air above my head, and he was shoving the piece of paper into my hand as if he didn't want to read it anymore. After throwing him a puzzled glance, I read the combination, then reached up to open the door.

"That's funny." I frowned. "I can't get the lock open."

I tried the combination again, holding my breath as I twisted the dial. When I reached the last digit, I pulled at the latch, but it still wouldn't give.

"There must be a mistake," I told Quatre. "It must be the combination to some other locker."

"I don't think so," he said quietly.

"Here. Hold my bag, will you?"

Determined now, I took the lock in both hands, gritted my teeth, and turned the knob slowly and carefully.

"Third time's a charm," I mumbled, and to my surprise, the door popped open so suddenly that if I hadn't known better, I'd have sworn something heaved it out at me from inside. The impact sent me sprawling back several steps, right into Quatre, who put up his hands to steady me.

"Must have been stuck," I said, relieved. "I hope it doesn't do that every time I need to get it op-"

I never got to finish my sentence.

As a sickening stench washed over me, I choked and started to gag, dimly aware of hands clutching my throat, clawing for air-

From far away someone called to me, but the hall was a total blur now-dark and brown and runny-oozing down around me in a suffocating flood of darkness.

I opened my mouth and heard the screams.

But not my screams…

Screams of pain…horror…_agony_…

Screams coming from my locker.

-TBC-

AN: Reviews are always welcome. Particularly flames. My dogs find it entertaining when I throw myself on the floor, shriek like banshee, and beat my fists, feet, and head on the carpeting in a fit of shameful tantrum- ing. I hear that they're considering me for an Academy Award for Best Performance as a Toddler.