The Locker Exchange Read online

  I spun the lock to the numbers written on the note and pulled the handle toward me. The door came to a jolting halt, then rested on its hinges as I peered in.

  Then I paused.

  Was that a poster on the back of the wall? I reached my hand out, just a little, to see if it touched the back. But there was no back, just air. And abs.

  I swear there were abs.

  “Like what you see?” a deep voice asked from the other side of the locker. My feet stumbled backward before I caught myself and realized what was going on. With widened eyes, I bent forward to get a clearer view.

  There was no back wall to my locker. It connected directly to the locker that opened on the boys’ side.

  And here was a boy.

  “What?” I sputtered. I’d never been in this kind of situation before. Sure, I’d seen shirtless guys; I had an older brother. But this definitely wasn’t my older brother. “Where’s your shirt?

  Shouldn’t there be a back to this locker?”

  The voice answered, neglecting the first question. “There should be,” he started to say, his body tilting down so I could see better. His face was tan, narrow, complemented with dark eyebrows that arched in amusement as his gaze locked with mine.

  I recognized those eyes: the blue of the winter sky, glassy in its reflection through icicles, seemed trapped in the eyes of a boy with a conceited grin. “But there isn’t.”

  I knew who he was. Almost everyone at Westwood did.

  That was Kyler Fellan.

  Chapter TWO

  “So, you share a locker with a really hot guy.” Adalia elbowed my side as we made our way into the first class of the new day. A few other classmates shuffled into the room, some pulling off hoodies, others making fun of them, since this was Colorado and we would just get cold again later.

  Adalia wasn’t wearing a hoodie, though. My best friend liked to experiment with her look, and today’s was one of my favorites. She wore a tucked-in sweater and wide-legged jeans with her hair half-up. She was a shorter girl with long blond hair, dark emerald eyes, and a smile that was sweet enough to trust. That trust meant she knew everything happening at Westwood, including the rumors about Kyler.

  I still couldn’t believe I’d opened my gym locker yesterday to find the one and only—and half-naked—Kyler staring back at me with an unashamed grin. Adalia and Liam had been making fun of me nonstop since I’d told them on the phone, and it only seemed to emphasize that this year was off to an unnatural start.

  “It could be worse,” she said.

  I rolled my eyes playfully at Adalia before shrugging my backpack off. “When you put it like that, sure. But it’s Kyler. I don’t know if I really want to get close to him.”

  “Kyler Fellan, the type to never get serious,” Adalia stated, taking the seat next to me. “He’s charming, smart, reserved, and superhot. Only Sterling Reyes comes close. They’re best friends, but they’re complete—”

  “Opposites. Yes, yes, like I haven’t heard you give this speech a hundred times before.” I smiled at her to let her know I was kidding, but I felt the corners of my lips sink. “Besides, I’m worried about other things right now.”

  Adalia shifted uncomfortably. “Me too. I can’t believe they didn’t find the guy who pushed her.”

  “I know. It doesn’t seem like they’re looking too hard,” I said from the edge of my seat.

  “But he’s a murderer,” Adalia said.

  Exasperation flooded my expression as I fell back farther into my chair. “That’s what I said. It’s like they don’t even care.”

  Suddenly I leaned forward, letting my eyes skim the room before whispering in her direction, “What if he’s a high school student?”

  “Then he could be anywhere,” she murmured. With a shudder, her green eyes found the floor. “It’s pretty scary.”

  The two of us sat in silence, thoughts of terror and fear hanging over us. The rest of the school seemed to be feeling the same way; usually the classroom was full of sleepy laughter, but that had turned into low-level mumbles.

  Adalia placed a hand on my knee as a gesture of reassurance, but the solemn expression remained etched on my face. “I’m sure the school will make an announcement later so students will be careful.” Adalia paused and put a finger on her chin.

  “Well, at least around stairs.”

  At that last comment, my head snapped up. I couldn’t help the amused smile sneaking onto my lips. “That’s a bad joke.”

  “Who said I’m joking?” She laughed, her platinum hair bouncing along to the airy pitch.

  The chiming sound was cut off as our teacher entered the room. Taking her position at the front of the room, she snapped at the class, “Quiet, please.”

  Adalia gave me another look before facing forward. Others raced to do the same before Mrs. Drella decided to turn around again.

  With a spin of her heels, she faced the classroom with an expression that seemed softer than her usual hardened look.

  There was a long pause before her lips finally parted. “As your first-period teacher, I’m obligated to let you know some unfortunate news.”

  Adalia and I traded looks. So did others in the room.

  “Two nights ago, a student many of you know. . .” She stopped, as if trying to figure out the best phrasing. “Erm, Ingrid. Ingrid Lund, a junior, suffered from a fatal accident near the football field. Truly, truly terrible.” She sighed. “It’s unfortunate that I have to deliver news like this. Please be careful so accidents like this don’t repeat—”

  My hand shot up.

  “Miss Hastings?”

  “I was there that night,” I said, trying to keep the anger out of my words. The room went silent as I continued. “I saw someone at the top of the stairs, and I don’t think she tripped. The school should be warning us to watch out at night, or they should at least add some extra security.”

  Mrs. Drella’s lips pursed. “If you have more information or evidence, see me after class. Otherwise, I think that’s enough.

  There’s no need to scare your fellow students.”

  “They should be scared,” I muttered. My teeth began to grind as our teacher cleared her throat and reached for a stack of papers behind her.

  “Let’s start class.”

  Mrs. Drella stopped at each row of desks, passing out papers that probably wouldn’t get done until tomorrow morning, and when a certain black-haired boy turned around to hand me my own, my heartbeat did a leap.

  A very small leap.

  Sterling Reyes. He’d been sitting in front of me every day since school began. Every day, he gave me one of those loose smiles and then faced forward, ready to start the day fresh, as if we weren’t all dying from the horrors of public school and, more realistically, murderers.

  I’d admit he made my heart flutter sometimes. And now that I was able to see his face, a sense of calm washed over me, my previous biting anger subsiding just a bit when he smiled. The sight of his dimpled cheeks and warm umber eyes always had that effect on me, but I’d never really done much about it.

  “Morning,” he said in a low voice before turning his focus away from me. It was so casual that I didn’t think he expected a reply, so I smiled back instead.

  Sterling had something most guys didn’t.

  He had manners. He was polite. He cared about other people.

  Simply put, he was a nice person. Boys like that were hard to find in general, and especially in our school. So with a face and personality like Sterling’s, it was almost impossible not to feel a little attracted to him.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t stare at his back all day and squinted past him instead. Mrs. Drella started hitting her marker against the smart board, writing letters and words that I never paid attention to because learning history was fun and all, but add a monotone voice and constant lectures? Not really my thing.

  My thoughts began to drift, and a feeling of smallness settled in my chest again. It was obvious I needed to do something, not just for everyone at school but for Ingrid too. I knew she’d been involved in something bigger than an

  “accident,” and I wasn’t going to just let it go.

  However, it was daunting. Realistically speaking, what could someone like me do? I was just a junior in high school who didn’t even have her parents at home to help her.

  But now Ingrid’s parents didn’t have a daughter.

  What if another student found themselves alone, unsuspect-ing, and that murderer came back for round two? What if the next victim was someone I knew? A friend?

  My stomach knotted at the thought.

  I hadn’t known Ingrid that well, but I knew no one deserved to be written off like that.

  She’d called for help, and I’d failed her.

  I wasn’t going to fail again.

  —

  I marched into second period with newfound determination. My brows furrowed as I fell into my seat and pulled out my notebook, my pen tapping the page as I thought of a plan. I needed to do something about Ingrid, but I didn’t know anything about her. I couldn’t just find the guy who’d pushed her, either, not that I particularly wanted to.

  Maybe I could convince the school to at least issue some warnings. Even if she hadn’t been murdered, which she had, safety was always important when it came to teenagers, right?

  My head drooped to the side as I began writing the plan down but shot up again when a familiar face walked by my desk.

  Kyler glanced down and smiled. “Hey, locker buddy.”

  He continued down the aisle silently and slid into the seat behind me. I’d been so focused on Ingrid that I hadn’t even thought about the awkwardness of sitting right in front of him after yesterday’s encounter.

  We’d never talked before
that. We’d never had a reason to, but I guessed sharing a locker counted as one now.

  He was popular, and I knew bits and pieces about him because Adalia liked to keep track of those kinds of details. One reason for his fame was obvious, though. He had the kind of face that girls liked.

  His nose was straight, symmetrical, and he had sharp eyes that flared upward with dark eyelashes to top them off. It didn’t help that his gaze was so penetrating; he could see everything you didn’t want him to.

  I didn’t trust pretty boys like him.

  He probably didn’t trust a lot of people, either, especially not after his family tragedy became the subject of gossip around school. Kyler’s dad had died in a car accident last year; unfortunately, everyone knew about it. I guessed it came with the territory when you were as popular as he was. I felt bad that I knew. I wasn’t close to him, and something like that wasn’t a stranger’s business.

  Adalia and Liam made up my friend group, and I wasn’t trying to climb our school hierarchy by interacting with Kyler. I liked where I was. People knew of me, I knew of them, and if we talked it wasn’t uncomfortable. I had some classroom friends that I liked, but all my time and energy went toward the two I cherished the most.

  Kyler, on the other hand, was known by everyone.

  I couldn’t imagine how exhausting that would be. He seemed unbothered by it, though, with an unfalteringly cool expression, as if nothing could get to him. Everything was amusing.

  Nothing was serious.

  I pulled my thoughts away from him as class began with a teacher who was much nicer than Mrs. Drella, and I tried to forget about the overwhelming presence coming from behind me.

  For the majority of class, I’d done a pretty good job of it . . . until we had to pass back pamphlets.

  Kyler didn’t seem to notice when I turned around.

  His dusky hair was disheveled; it fell to the side, looking like a guided mess as his fingers ran through it. Then he glanced up, and my gaze shot away as if I were guilty of something.

  I didn’t realize how closely I’d been looking at him and cursed my curiosity then and there. His gaze shifted toward my hand and then the papers, and when he reached out to take them, his finger brushed against mine.

  “Thanks,” he said. His eyes were unwavering as the corners of his lips turned up, and I copied his smile.

  “Yeah.”

  “Liam, that’s disgusting!” Adalia squealed as Liam moved closer to her with a picture of God-knows-what popped up on his phone screen. No one seemed to notice their performance despite the fact that we were in the middle of the cafeteria. Luckily, we usually got to sit alone during lunch. “Let me eat without feeling repulsed for once!”

  Liam threw his head back, laughing as the two of us shook our heads in disapproval. Liam had dark hair that he’d always kept short and tawny brown skin. He was the definition of a typical teenage boy, and one day, we hoped he’d come to the realization that he was, in fact, an idiot.

  That last part was a joke.

  In reality, Liam was witty and caring, and despite the teasing the three of us dished out to each other, Liam would always be one of my best friends.

  “C’mon, B. Tell her it’s funny.”

  “It’s not funny,” I deadpanned.

  “It’s hilarious!” he replied, faking hurt as he pressed a hand against his heart. Immediately, his feigned shock turned into a widespread grin as he leaned across the table. “Wanna see?”

  “No!” Adalia and I shouted in unison, but that only encouraged his laughter more. Adalia slapped her palm over his mouth, and having been around them for an extended amount of time, I knew what was coming next.

  “Eww! You can’t just lick people, Liam!” Adalia jumped out of her seat with a cry, maneuvering herself so that she was behind him. She caught him in a headlock that he hardly tried to escape. “Why are you like this?”

  I rolled my eyes from across the table. “Why are either of you like this?”

  I asked that, but I knew they were doing their best to distract me from getting caught up in my thoughts about Ingrid. I’d been thinking about what had happened all morning, and it was starting to take its toll on my mood. To be fair, though, most of the school was thinking about it too. I’d heard people talking about her in every class, every passing period, even when I’d gone to the bathroom.

  I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

  My two friends simultaneously looked at me with eyes that complemented each other. With the same type of smile, they exchanged a look and then shrugged. “But you love us,” Adalia piped.

  “It’s a wonder,” I replied, shaking my head lightly, but Liam had already begun talking.

  “Let’s hang out tonight,” he suggested, glancing toward me and then up at Adalia, who still had a firm hold on him. They were always touchy like that, and I knew Liam liked it more than he let on. It was obvious to everyone except Adalia.

  “It’s been a while, and I know no one’s at your house, Brynn.

  Unless you’re secretly hiding some mysterious guy we don’t know about . . .”

  When I sighed instead of answering, Adalia’s voice took on a higher pitch. “Maybe she is!”

  “Who is it?” Liam stretched across the table eagerly, taking a very excited Adalia with him. “Do we know him?”

  “You should,” I said with a curt nod, “since he is a figment of your imagination.”

  “Smartass,” mumbled Adalia, but she took back her seat next to Liam and grinned. “I wanna sleep over tonight.”

  “I will too,” Liam added. But when he pulled out his phone, he scrunched his eyebrows together and let out a small groan.

  “Football practice gets out late tonight.”

  “What a jock,” I joked, and he stuck out his tongue in response.

  When he tucked his phone back into his pocket, he continued, “I’ve gone to almost every practice, unlike some people.”

  “Who are you talking about?” I asked. Adalia turned to face him with a curious expression as well.

  “Your locker boyfriend.” Liam smirked. “You know, Kyler.

  He almost never shows up to practice, and when he does, he’s always late and his hair’s a mess.” He raised an eyebrow. “We can all guess why his hair’s a mess.”

  “Aren’t you just upset you’re not getting as many girls as him, Liam?” Adalia joked with a ruffle of his hair. “That’s why you started playing football in the first place, isn’t it?”

  “Of course not. I’ve already got two girls who can’t keep their hands off me,” he said with a wink at the two of us. When we laughed, Liam added, “I’ll come over late.”

  He paused before continuing.

  “I’ll bring food.”

  —

  “The death of a high schooler at Westwood, Ingrid Lund, is still under investigation. We’re expecting to know the verdict soon, but as of now, signs seem to point toward an unfortunate accident. Joining us here today are her parents—”

  “Should we watch something else?” Liam asked. His hand was frozen above the last burger left on the pile of takeout bags on the coffee table in front of us. The three of us were gathered around my living room TV after a late dinner.

  I sat forward on the couch. “No. I want to see,” I said. My grip was tight around the remote as I increased the volume on our local evening news. Two people, an older woman and a man with barely graying hair, were being interviewed. They looked about my parents’ ages.

  “We—I don’t, I mean—I didn’t know that something like this would . . .” The man took a deep breath after trampling over his words. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” His pale face was shell-shocked, and his sunken eyes looked like a rabbit’s: antsy, paranoid, terrified.

  His wife glanced at him with an unreadable expression, but the camera was no longer focused on them. Adalia squirmed in her chair as the next picture became clear, and I felt my stomach drop.

  A deep red puddle sank into the cement right at the base of the bleacher steps. Luckily, the photos weren’t too graphic, but I could still make out threads of pale hair weaving from the edges of the screen. A picture of her body under a sheet also came up, and only I knew how her arms and legs were bent at odd angles underneath the drape.