The Locker Exchange

  THE LOCKER EXCHANGE

  ANN RAE

  The

  Locker

  Exchange

  a novel

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  How to be the Best Third Wheel Sample

  THE LOCKER EXCHANGE

  Chapter ONE

  It should have been darker.

  My foot crunched a fallen brown leaf as I left the school and headed toward an empty student parking lot. It was close to eight at night, which meant my white Jeep sat alone, sun reflecting off it at low angles. There was something odd about having the light over my shoulder just before it began its descent into darkness.

  The fall air bit at my heels and cheeks, prompting me to quicken my pace as I drew closer to the Jeep and tugged open the heavy door.

  My backpack slid off my shoulder as I tossed it into the passenger seat and collapsed, exhausted from filing paperwork for different classes. I was an office aide at my high school, which meant I had a “responsibility” to assist. It was still only the second week of classes, and I’d been filing student schedules, requests for class changes, and the like for hours. I hadn’t signed up for helping after school, though, and vowed then and there to never do it again.

  I shook my head at the memory of all the forms I’d dealt with that day and reached forward to start the Jeep. All I wanted now was to listen to some music and enjoy a peaceful drive back home. Just as my fingers barely brushed against the volume dial, an ear-splitting screech shot through the air, and I recoiled in shock, my head shooting upward.

  Anticipation took hold of my heart.

  I waited in silence for it to come again. Maybe I’d imagined it, or, more realistically, I hoped I’d imagined it. I wasn’t equipped for this kind of situation, and my eyes skimmed my car for anything I could use just in case I wasn’t hallucinating.

  “Help!”

  The desperate, distant scream shook me into motion, and I bolted up, scrambling for the phone in my car’s cupholder. I knew I should’ve called the police, but there had been a few incidents on the news that didn’t necessarily showcase their abilities, so I dialed someone I trusted.

  “Hello?” a deep voice answered. My heart was thumping so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

  “Thank God.” I almost gasped. “Baylor, I’m in the parking lot at school, and no one else is here, but I heard a scream and then someone yell for help, and I want to go check—”

  “Stop,” my older brother said sternly. Even from miles away at college, he could still command and I’d listen. “Call the police and get out of there. It’s not safe.”

  “What if I call them and it’s too late? I need to go over there now, at least to check, or I won’t be able to sleep tonight. I thought I’d ask you to stay on the line with me. You know, just in case.”

  “Are you wearing a hoodie?” he asked finally. “Cover your face as much as you can.”

  Luckily, I had a spare one in the car.

  My arms trembled as I hurriedly threw it on and leapt out of the Jeep. Adrenaline coursed through my blood like I’d never felt before. I’d learned about this before, the fight-or-flight response, but I never thought I’d experience it so vividly. I crept in the direction of the noise, my breathing hitched, unconsciously treading on the balls of my feet.

  When I turned the corner, it was still. The football field looked empty, but my hands still quivered.

  “Do you see anything?” Baylor asked quietly. His voice was calm. I couldn’t necessarily say his virtual presence was soothing, but it was still better than being alone.

  As my lips formed the shape of no, a sudden movement attracted my gaze. A black figure loomed at the top of the bleachers before noticing my position and flinching. Sudden panic propelled my body forward in a desperate attempt to get a better look, but the man ducked down behind the bleachers, scurrying past the fence and out of my sight.

  “I just saw someone—” I started, determined to get another glance as I stepped forward.

  Then all my courage vanished.

  I felt it against my shoe. Something warm. Wet.

  “Baylor,” I whispered, my eyes shut tight as I willed my lips not to tremble.

  “What? What happened?”

  “I . . .”

  I didn’t want to look. I didn’t know what it was, but the guesses swarming my mind were enough to make me hesitate. Yet I knew I had to, and, with a daring I didn’t typically possess, my eyes slowly swept the bleachers, then the cement, and finally the puddle of blood mixed in a whirlpool of soaked blond hair.

  My Jeep was no longer alone. Red and blue lights flashed against the now consuming dark as Colorado police strolled around the scene of Westwood High. I crossed my arms around my chest, relying on my own warmth as I shrank into a body that shook.

  “Did you find him?” I asked again as a man in a uniform walked past. I stood up from where I’d been leaning on the hood of my car; while being surrounded by the authorities wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable situation ever, I needed answers. “The guy who was on the stairs.”

  He didn’t seem to hear me.

  “Hello?”

  His eyes almost rolled as he turned in my direction. “No.”

  “No, you didn’t find him?” I asked for clarification.

  “We didn’t find him. And we probably won’t, but we’re doing a sweep of the area just in case you really did see someone.”

  “What?” I gawked at him. “What do you mean ‘really did see someone’? You think I made it up?”

  “Look,” he said, shadows outlining his glum face. “We got your report and all your information. Thank you for cooperat-ing, but you should head home. It’s late, and there’s nothing else you can do. We have it under control.”

  “Wait!” I started, but he was already tilting a hat over his eyes and turning away. “I’m not lying! Wait!”

  I tried countless others, asking them the same questions about the victim and the murderer, but all I got were impassive looks and short replies. My blood boiled as I finally sank into my car and slammed the door shut.

  “I don’t get it,” I fumed, my hand clutching a silver fork. My parents sat across from me, both chasing their pasta around in an uncomfortable silence. “They said their ‘early investigation’ indicates she tripped and fell, but I literally told them what I saw! Why don’t they believe me?”

  “Honey,” my mom started, finally meeting my gaze. Her irises were a smoky gray with smile creases sharpening the edges of her eyes. I’d always been told I looked like her, as we shared the same color eyes and full lips, but it was only recently that I’d begun to see the resemblance. “I know tonight was rough, and I’m sorry you had to experience any of it, but we should be thankful they don’t consider you a suspect. Right?”

  She looked helplessly at my father, who had just raised a bite of spaghetti toward his mouth. He lowered it and let out an awkward cough. “Right. I mean, it’s lucky they caught you on the surveillance cameras in the school and the parking lot. It could have gone a lot worse than it did. Thankfully you’ve always been lucky, Brynn.”

  Lucky? They thought the fact that I’d stumbled upon a murderer and watched as he got away was lucky?

  “What aren’t you guys understanding? Do you think I just made it up too?” I accused, anger biting at my words.

  “No, that’s not it,” my mom said hastily. She set her fork down and sighed. “Your dad and I have something to tell you, and we would’ve told you earlier, but the decision was very last minute.

  It’s just . . . well, the timing couldn’t be worse.”

  “What?” I asked. This was why they’d waited until I got home to have dinner. A hole began to form in the pit of my stomach as I waited for them to tell me their news.

  “Well,” she started, her eyes drifting aimlessly before coming back to me, “we’re going on a business trip. I’m not exactly sure how long it’ll be, but we were told it could last at least a month, maybe more.” Her expression pleaded with me. “I’m so sorry, honey. We didn’t think something like this would happen, and we tried to reschedule, but it was too late.”

  My parents worked in programming. I knew they used to do freelance stuff until Baylor and I came along, but now they worked for a corporation in the city that focused on creating websites and gathering intel. Trips weren’t uncommon in their line of business, but I still didn’t like it. Why did they have to leave now of all times? It was like the fates were laughing at me.

  “Where are you guys going?”

  “California,” my dad said. The circles under his eyes had gotten darker lately, and both my parents had hair that was starting to gray. My hair was a similar shade of brown to theirs, muted, dark, so sometimes I wondered if I’d look like them as I approached their age.

  It was hard watching as they got older, and having them so far away always made me feel uneasy. I’d never really been left alone for long periods of time, mo
stly because Baylor would stay with me if they went on vacation by themselves. As a junior in high school, I didn’t get too many opportunities for independence, but right now, it wasn’t something I wanted. I was close with my parents, and, although I didn’t want to admit it, I felt vulnerable after what had just happened.

  And now they were leaving.

  “You really have to go?” I asked in a faint voice. I didn’t want them to, but it felt like I didn’t have a choice.

  “Unfortunately,” my dad said, grasping my hand from across the table. His skin felt soft, fragile, and I gripped it tight.

  “Baylor will come up from school on the weekends to keep you company. We know you’ve missed him since he started college, so hopefully you guys can use this time to catch up.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes, but I could appreciate the forced optimism.

  The part about Baylor visiting wasn’t so bad. He was three years older than me, a sophomore in college, and we’d always been close. Baylor was adopted, which made it funny when people would say he looked like either of our parents because, of course, he didn’t. Everything about him contrasted with me: his tanned skin, sandy hair, and bright golden eyes. The sun and the clouds, that’s how I always imagined the pair of us.

  Not that I was gloomy or anything.

  “When are you guys leaving?” I asked.

  They shared that look again. A look of uneasiness, like they were delivering news about something dreadful.

  “Tonight.”

  I launched out of my chair. “Tonight? ”

  “After dinner,” my mom said. “But we’ll be back soon, I promise. It’ll be like we were never gone.”

  Somehow, that seemed doubtful.

  Dinner didn’t last very long after that, even though I tried to drag it out as much as I could by taking small bites and asking for more water about ten times. Finally, there was nothing left I could do.

  They brought their suitcases downstairs and gave me hugs so tight I thought I would break. My mother’s knuckles turned white as her fingers laced together, and, when I caught her glance, she gave one more guilt-laden smile. With wistful expressions on their faces, they waved good-bye, but just before leaving, my dad looked back.

  “We love you. Call us anytime.”

  I gave him a nod despite wanting to fight for them to stay. I’d done enough fighting tonight. “Love you.”

  Our eyes locked for a long second before I shut the door behind them and watched from the window as the bright lights of their car faded into black.

  Then I stood alone in a house too big for a girl too close to tears.

  I didn’t go to school the next day.

  I felt like my trauma from seeing a dead body was a good enough excuse to lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling for hours on end. Luckily, Baylor saw my point and called the school to let them know I was suffering from a “cold.”

  My friends, however, were a bit more relentless.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to just stop by? Maybe it’ll help get your mind off things,” Adalia, one of my best friends, said through the speaker on my phone. She had a high voice, but it was the type that soothed you, the type that made you feel like someone was listening to your problems instead of judging.

  “Yeah!” a deeper voice chimed. “We miss you!”

  “Whatever, Liam.” I scoffed, but I couldn’t help the smile forming on my lips. “You guys saw me yesterday.”

  “So, it’s been a whole day! That’s enough time to, like, I don’t know, move to another state. Wait, ow—” he yelped, and I figured Adalia had given him a punch. “I didn’t mean her parents! I was just giving an example!”

  “Well, think of a better one!” Adalia said.

  “You guys are way too energetic for me right now. I’ll come to school tomorrow, so don’t worry too much,” I said, shaking my head. I wasn’t that upset at Liam’s choice of words, but it reminded me once again why I was feeling so dull inside. It was nice having friends who listened, and I wanted to be in good shape when I saw them again. At least, better shape than I was right now.

  “All right. Text us if you’re bored!” Adalia replied. After agreeing to her terms, I ended the call and plopped right back onto my comforter.

  Only a few seconds passed before the screen lit up again, and I rolled to my side, bringing my phone toward my face. I’d expected it to be a text from those two, but the email notification caught my attention, and I opened a message from the school.

  Brynn Hastings (and parents),

  This is a final notice for gym lockers. Today is the last day to get assigned a locker number, so please stop by the office before 4:00 p.m. If not, you will be unable to use the lockers during and outside of PE.

  I groaned. Of course. Of course, something like this would happen. I’d been slacking a little, sure, but why did my timing have to be so bad?

  I recalled my dad’s words: You’ve always been lucky, Brynn.

  Yeah, right.

  By the time I got to school, the hallways were empty. Those who had stayed back were out on the field or practicing in the gym for school sports. I looked ridiculous pairing one of Baylor’s old hoodies with loose sweats, but I didn’t care. I was mourning the loss of a free afternoon.

  The infamous MAIN OFFICE sign felt menacing as it stared at me from above. I’d been in that office until late last night, and I was anything but happy to be back.

  “Excuse me?” I peeked my head into the room, hoping that everyone hadn’t run away at the first sound of the bell. There was a woman perched at the main desk, but she made no reply.

  I walked toward her, but I still had to stand there for a while before she finally noticed me.

  “Excuse me,” I said again, tired of having to convince people to listen to me.

  The lady looked up, tilted her glasses down, then gave a vicious scowl. Her hair was in short, uneven curls, and her eyes squinted in an unamused manner. The lipstick she wore was too heavy and had smeared, since it was the end of the day. It was obvious we both wanted to leave.

  “What can I help you with?” she asked, uninterested.

  I tried to keep my expression calm. I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, and starting a fight didn’t seem like the best way. “I got an email telling me to come in to get a locker number.”

  “What’s your name?” Her eyes drooped.

  “Brynn Hastings.”

  The woman didn’t respond, but the typing coming from her keyboard gave me hope that she’d heard me.

  I didn’t know if she was always like this, but I was guessing it wasn’t personal. I mean, I didn’t know her. She wasn’t the one I worked with during fifth period, and though she always sat at this desk, she never seemed to look up unless she was called.

  Finally, the keyboard pecking came to a halt, and she tore off a sticky note, jotted down a number, then slapped it onto the counter in front of me. “This is the last locker in there, so no changes.”

  I had never known how in demand school gym lockers were.

  “Thanks,” I said as I took the note.

  Silence.

  I figured that was all I’d get, so I quickly scurried out of the office, glad our odd interaction was over.

  Glassy brick walls curved into two separate entrances for the locker room: one for the girls and one for the boys. It was a little different from the typical high school model. The only thing that separated the boys and girls was a wall of lockers, which basically meant we all shared a giant room split in the middle. Luckily, there was a thin, solid wall that rose from above where the boys’ and girls’ lockers divided the room all the way to the ceiling, which drowned out the noise from the guys’ side of the room.

  I had gym during my third period, but I always blocked out the memory. The only thing that made it bearable was Adalia’s presence, though even I had to admit she was more athletic than I was. I liked dancing, but if there was a ball involved? Count me out.

  The only reason I was even taking gym was because I could only use outside sources, like my past dance classes, for two years. Unfortunately, I needed three years of physical education in order to graduate, so here I was.

  I glanced at the piece of paper and sighed.

  Of course, I got a locker right in the middle of the dividing wall. At least I got the top half, which was about two feet wide and stopped just above my eye level.